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    The Lord Collector
    The Lord Collector
    The Lord Collector
    Ebook61 pages59 minutes

    The Lord Collector

    By Anthony Ryan

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Author's Note - The following story takes place in the same world as my novel Blood Song, the first volume in the Raven’s Shadow trilogy. I wrote it because I wanted to more fully explore characters who appear in Blood Song and the sequels Tower Lord and Queen of Fire. Readers familiar with my work are sure to recognise a certain pale-eyed, raspy voiced Sword Master of the Sixth Order and those curious as to the origins of the Tower Lord of the Southern Shore will find answers here. The tale takes place at the mid-point of the timeline described in Blood Song, a time when King Janus, with typical ruthlessness, is in the process of fully consolidating his grip on the Unified Realm.

    'The Lord Collector by Anthony Ryan: a grim introduction to our protagonist, Jehrid, leader of an Excise Guard unit (think a kind of investigative military) to kick this story off. Jehrid is tasked by his Tower Lord with working with Brother Sollis of the Sixth Order and two others with finding a passenger from a month-old shipwreck. But Jehrid has another agenda: vengeance. A story told with standard Anthony Ryan style. Enjoyable, violent, somber at times and galloping like a horse at others.' - Adrian Collins, Grimdark Magazine

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnthony Ryan
    Release dateMar 1, 2016
    ISBN9781311532916
    The Lord Collector
    Author

    Anthony Ryan

    Anthony Ryan was born in Scotland in 1970 but spent much of his adult life living and working in London. After a long career in the British Civil Service he took up writing full time after the success of his first novel Blood Song, Book One of the Raven's Shadow trilogy. He has a degree in history, and his interests include art, science and the unending quest for the perfect pint of real ale.For news and general wittering about stuff he likes, check out Anthony's blog at: http://anthonystuff.wordpress.com.

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      Book preview

      The Lord Collector - Anthony Ryan

      The Lord Collector

      The Lord Collector

      A Raven’s Shadow Novella

      Anthony Ryan

      Copyright © 2019 by Anthony Ryan

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

      Contents

      Author’s Note

      The Lord Collector

      About the Author

      Author’s Note

      The following story takes place in the same world as my novel Blood Song, the first volume in the Raven’s Shadow trilogy. I wrote it because I wanted to more fully explore characters who appear in Blood Song and the sequels Tower Lord and Queen of Fire. Readers familiar with my work are sure to recognise a certain pale-eyed, raspy voiced Sword Master of the Sixth Order and those curious as to the origins of the Tower Lord of the Southern Shore will find answers here. The tale takes place at the mid-point of the timeline described in Blood Song, a time when King Janus, with typical ruthlessness, is in the process of fully consolidating his grip on the Unified Realm.

      The Lord Collector

      W here are they, Varesh?

      Varesh Baldir was a tall man, somewhere past his fortieth year, thickset with a copious unkempt beard that partly concealed the weathered features common to those who eked a a living from the shore. His heavy brows furrowed as he stared at Jehrid, eyes lit mostly with hate and fury, but also betraying a momentary flicker of fear.

      We counted near two score corpses on the beach after you lured that freighter to its death, Jehrid continued, sensing a fractional advantage. I know the code as well as you. Blood pays for blood.

      Varesh took a deep breath, closing his eyes and turning his face out towards the sea, hate and fear fading as his brow softened under the salted wind. After a moment he opened his eyes and turned back to Jehrid, mouth set in a hard, unyielding line, and his tattooed fists bunched, jangling the manacles on his meaty wrists.

      Silence is the only law, Jehrid thought. First rule of the smuggler’s code, drilled into him over many an unhappy year. This is a waste of time.

      He sighed and moved closer to Nawen’s Maw, an unnaturally regular bore-hole through the rocky overhang on which they stood. Varesh’s chain traced from his manacles to an iron brace set into the top of a stone resembling an upended pear, a wide rounded top narrowing to a flat base. It had been carved from the pale red sandstone that proliferated on the southern Asraelin shore and made the buildings here so distinctive. One of Jehrid’s first acts upon assuming his role had been to hire a mason to fashion the stones, insisting they be at least twice the weight of a man and shaped so as to allow them to be easily tipped into the maw. When complete, he had his men arrange them in a tidy row atop the overhang; a clear statement of intent. He had begun with twenty, now only five remained, soon to become four.

      Jehrid rested a boot on the stone, glancing down at the waves crashing on the rocks far below. The terns had already begun to gather, wings folding back as they plunged into the swell, eager for the fresh pickings below. This shore had ever been kind to scavengers. The diving birds were the only sign of the six men he had already consigned to the Maw, Varesh’s kin; : four cousins, a brother and a nephew. Last of the Stone Teeth, a brotherhood of smugglers and wreckers that had plagued this shore for more than three generations. Before kicking each boulder into the Maw Jehrid had asked Varesh the same question, and each time the leader of the Stone Teeth had stood silent and watched his kin dragged to their deaths. Varesh’s only child, a daughter of notoriously vicious temper, had fallen to a crossbow bolt when Jehrid led his company into the smuggler’s den, a narrow crack in the maze of cliffs east of South Tower, crammed with sundry spoils looted from the Alpiran freighter they had enticed onto the rocks a month before. One of Varesh’s cousins had allowed wine to loosen his tongue upon visiting a brothel in town the previous night, and Jehrid had always found whores to be excellent informants.

      My mother once told me a story of how the Maw got its name, he told Varesh in

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