Once again Prescott goes from slave to ruler at least twice and from Kregen to Earth to Kregen again. Hell bent on catching back up with Delia, the princess of Valia, Prescott is confronted by the Starlords in a new and interesting way. The culmination of the story is too good to be true without outside interference, maybe the Starlord Really digging the first person perspective but aside from that I am unsure of how I feel about this book. The culmination of the story is too good to be true without outside interference, maybe the Starlords? Well, there is a map in the back of this one and an appendix so maybe it'll help me keep the characters straight.
The map is very crude, supposedly drawn by Prescott himself. Aug 01, Joseph rated it it was amazing Shelves: sword-and-planet. This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. In this volume we are at last surrounded by a myriad of Dray's closest followers, comrades and friends. I always thought there was still room for the likes of characters like Seg and Inch and especially the plains crew and finally here they are, albeit briefly altogether under 2 Suns destroying all that stands in the way of Dray and Delia.
I'm very excited at the prospects of the 6th book, as Dray was not immediately pulled off the ground by that irritating blue light and scorpion figure, howeve In this volume we are at last surrounded by a myriad of Dray's closest followers, comrades and friends. I'm very excited at the prospects of the 6th book, as Dray was not immediately pulled off the ground by that irritating blue light and scorpion figure, however I'm sure as soon as the book opens Dray'll be pulled at the whim of the Star Lords to once again do their bidding.
1st, Dray Prescot Book 5: Prince of Scorpio by Alan Burt Akers (, PBO) | eBay
Jan 26, Timothy Boyd rated it liked it. If you are a John Carter of Mars fan or enjoy the "displaced person on another world" then this series is for you.
The books run in long story arcs so you can read just a few to complete a plot line or go for the whole set. Akers creates a very complex world for the hero to adventure in. Jul 18, Charles rated it it was amazing Shelves: fantasy. I just loved all of these.
Liz rated it liked it May 07, Jack rated it liked it Oct 10, Aeriell rated it it was amazing May 01, Douglas Smith rated it really liked it Jun 25, Kevin rated it really liked it Feb 16, Bobby Nichols rated it really liked it Oct 27, Pierre rated it liked it Feb 23, Jim McCrank rated it liked it Jul 17, AC rated it really liked it Feb 26, Nio rated it liked it Aug 01, Jack Teague rated it liked it Jun 06, Gary McNabb rated it liked it Jul 30, Carolyn Davis rated it really liked it Jan 05, Tim rated it it was amazing Sep 10, Felix rated it liked it Mar 18, Jonathan Greisz rated it it was amazing Jul 20, Dan rated it really liked it Aug 30, Mikhail Kiryazov rated it it was amazing Aug 05, Judson rated it liked it Aug 26, Moskbnea rated it it was amazing Mar 23, Roger Spotts rated it really liked it Feb 11, Martyn rated it really liked it Aug 22, Morhathol rated it really liked it Dec 10, Keith Lovell rated it really liked it Mar 31, There are no discussion topics on this book yet.
Readers also enjoyed. Science Fiction. About Alan Burt Akers. Alan Burt Akers. Pseudonym for Kenneth Bulmer. Other books in the series. I took his throat in my right hand and squeezed, then I brought my left fist down and around and under and hit him in the belly. He wriggled and flailed and tried to shorten his blade to stab me in the back, but I glared into his eyes with what I know is a wild and maniacal stare habitual to me when someone is trying to kill me, and I choked him and flung him down like a harvested sheaf of grain.
I took his rapier. His left-hand dagger swung still at his waist; of what need had he of main-gauche against an unarmed slave? With the weapons in my fists I sprang up, and at a half-crouch, ready for the next fool to show up, I surveyed the scene. The bare rocks, with their thin scattering of dirt cover in which straggly beach-grasses and thorn-ivy struggled to grow here and there, led down to a shaly beach.
Scattered along the beach an enormous mass of timbers, bales, bundles, ropes, and spars indicated a shipwreck.go to site
Prince of Scorpio [Dray Prescot #5] (Electronic book text)
At first I thought the naked screaming running men and women had been oar-slaves, but what was left of the vessel did not match my knowledge either of a swifter of the Eye of the World or a swordship of the Sunset Sea. A fellow rolling with muscle, vociferous, authoritarian, yelled and waved his rapier.
Every last one of the Pandrite-benighted panvals. Like the other guards he was clad in black leathers, and tall black boots. Like them he wore beneath the leather tunic a garment whose sleeves covered his arms with bands of red and black. He wore a helmet, narrow-brimmed at the sides and curled up at the fore and aft brim, after the fashion of a morion. His face was congested, bloated, full of annoyance that his command had broken down in what to him was clearly a most messy business. I looked at the sea — to me, then, an unknown sea — and felt the deep longing for the fresh sweep of the breeze and the clean feel of a keel beneath me scudding through the waves.
Then I advanced on this man, this leader of men who slaughtered unarmed men and women as they shrieked and begged for mercy. The jagged boulders beneath my feet felt decidedly uncomfortable after my sojourn on Earth wearing decent shoes, but I have spent most of my life barefoot, and I took little notice.
See a Problem?
The Star Lords, this time, evidently had asked a very great deal of me. As always I had been dumped down on Kregen naked and defenseless, and as always a crisis situation was presented to me. This time I had been flung headfirst right slap into the middle of the action. I jumped down off the rocks onto the beach and for a moment the big ruffian was hidden from me by contorting bodies. A girl screamed right at my feet and I looked down and to my left.
She sprawled on the shaly beach, and I saw that the chains between the fetters on her ankles had tripped and brought her down. A black-clad guard was quite callously, quite intentionally, preparing to drive his rapier through her stomach. I bent and with the main-gauche slewed a scatter of the shale into his face. He cursed and sprang back. He saw me. His main-gauche came out with the practiced ease of the fighting-man, and I knew I would have to take him first.
He tried to circle me. That was a waste of time — of my time, for his was going to finish here and now. A second guard ran across with a four-foot-long javelin and hurled it at me. I swayed and the missile hissed past. The second drew both his blades. The girl lay, staring up with wide eyes; fear had drugged her emotions, so that she could no longer weep or cry out.
I wanted to get over this fight quickly. There were well over a hundred naked men and women in chains, and something like fifteen or twenty guards methodically butchering them. The two split up, to take me from left and right. I have fought many times, and no doubt will fight many more times. These two were fair to middling examples of rapier men, which meant that, combined, they added up to a combination that could always take the better single man.
I just had to be better than both. The shipwreck, the black shale beach, the susurrations of that unknown sea, the black rocks, and the evil thorn-ivy bushes coalesced into the backdrop for wild action and devilish murder. I dispatched two more guards. I could hear a roaring and a raging nearer the scattered timbers of the wreck and I ran toward the focus of the sounds, dropping another guard as I ran. On the beach the big bull-roarer of a guard captain was down.
He sat on the black shale looking stupidly at the stump of his left arm. The red and black sleeved arm lay on the ground at his side, still with the hand clutching his dagger. Three other guards were backtracking rapidly.
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I looked at the man facing them, and I felt a painful and thrilling thump of blood from my heart tingle all through my body. Fair and open of face, with smooth blond hair, and eyes of an icy-blue, he fought with a grace and a delicacy that warmed my heart. Young, strong, confident, bold, he weaved a net of glittering steel before him, and, one, two, three, down went those guards, gouting blood. He wore soft leathers cincturing his waist and drawn up between his legs, the whole held in position by a wide belt the buckle of which gleamed dully gold.
On his left arm he wore a stout leather bracer. He wore soft leather gloves. On his feet he wore leather hunting boots. I had worn that gear once, myself, in the long ago Oh, yes, I felt all the strife and evil of two worlds flowing out and away from me and the beginnings of a new and altogether glorious promise.