![]() ![]() ![]() No slightest breeze stirred, leaving the capital city of Ayodhya to swelter. The Vendhyan night was preternaturally still, the air weighty and oppressive. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us./piracy. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.Ĭopyright infringement is against the law. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. This e-book is for your personal use only. The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. Even as his steel pierced ribs and heart, he was scrambling onto the dying man’s horse, throwing both the corpse and himself against the second enemy. The movements of his attack were continuous. His blade struck a metal plate in quilted brigantine, then slid off and between the plates. The two riders tried to wheel on him together, but he closed with them, thrusting at the closer of them. Snarling, the Cimmerian leaped to the side, away from the long-bladed lances. Two horsemen pounded out of the night, bent low in their saddles, seeming to race shoulder to shoulder to see which would lance Conan first. ![]()
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