By Alex Archer, Steven Savile
A sword of legend within the fingers of an extremist…
Skalunda Barrow, Sweden, has lengthy been rumored to be the ultimate resting position of the mythical Nordic hero Beowulf. And there's whatever of Beowulf's that charismatic and zealous right-wing baby-kisser Karl Thorssen desires very badly. cause on getting his fingers at the legendary sword Nægling, Sweden's golden-boy politico places jointly a crew to excavate the barrow. A staff that American archaeologist Annja Creed manages to finagle her manner onto. She wouldn't leave out this attainable discovery for something.
With Nægling at his facet, Thorssen will be invincible…a Nordic King Arthur. What his fans don't know—and Annja is starting to suspect—is simply how a long way Thorssen will visit in achieving his rabid amibitions. whilst Thorssen marks Annja for demise, she fast realizes that this is often even more than a political video game. And the single solution to live on is to compare Thorssen's sword together with her personal.
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Additional resources for Grendel's Curse (Rogue Angel, Book 48)
A flesh-eating micro organism that had one way or the other clung to the sword? She scrambled to her toes as Thorssen yanked the sacking clear of the blade he’d attempted to smuggle into the home. The steel shone yet regardless of its seen newness she knew instinctively it was once an historical weapon, now not a newly cast reproduction of the relic. This used to be the locate that had rate Lars Mortensen his lifestyles. The blade of a fallen hero, a legendary guy, although no longer so legendary a blade, in any case. This was once Nægling. His mother’s bellowing cry broke the instant yet Thorssen was once past any compassion or predicament. He wasn’t in there anymore, or if he used to be, it used to be just a shred of the guy he had as soon as been. no matter what used to be occurring to him, no matter what used to be taking place to his flesh, used to be altering him. He used to be anything else now. whatever substantial. anything risky. “What’s happening with you? ” Annja saved her voice regular regardless of the phobia pulsing via her veins. underneath the ruined epidermis, there has been a glistening layer of recent flesh.... “I am changing into what i used to be continuously meant to be. ” What, now not who. “You’re in difficulty. Karl? are you able to listen me, Karl? you want to struggle this. concentrate on me. examine me,” Annja commanded, understanding it used to be lifeless at the same time she acknowledged the phrases. He lifted the sword, touching it to his lips. “I were discovered beneficial. Nægling is mine. it usually was once. ” “You imagine you're Beowulf? ” Annja blurted, figuring out the fellow prior to her had had a psychotic breakdown. no matter what illness had poisoned his dermis had undone his brain to the level he believed he was once a few long-dead hero. That didn’t make him any much less risky, merely extra tragic. yet tragic males can nonetheless kill you if you’re no longer cautious, Annja idea. “Beowulf? ” Thorssen spat, mocking the identify. “The conflict Wolf? Do i glance like a puppy? it's not that i am Beowulf! he's lifeless and long past, airborne dirt and dust and goals, lengthy on account that any use, at the same time nutrients for the worms. long past like every mere males. ” Annja was once already attaining into the otherwhere as he spoke, feeling the approaching hazard of violence shimmer within the air among them. this couldn't finish good. She wasn’t afraid for her personal lifestyles; as soon as her hand closed round the hilt of Joan’s sword she couldn’t be any more secure. and she or he had Garin at her aspect, a guy born to struggle, person who had by no means allow her down when you consider that he’d first pulled her out of that café in France, weapons blazing. Thorssen screamed back. She couldn’t inform if he was once combating no matter what used to be within his physique, or if he was once screaming his rage at her, at his mom, Garin and the realm. The animalistic howl tore in the course of the sleek structure, shaking the home to its foundations. He scratched on the scraps of pores and skin flaking from his face, his hands and torso to show the level of the wear. The fragments of his epidermis looked as if it would smolder and switch black, falling away just like the ash of burned paper and drifting right down to the carpet. Annja stood transfixed via the transformation, her hand nonetheless achieving out to attract her personal sword into lifestyles. “Get her out of here,” Annja instructed Garin, no longer having a look clear of Thorssen. “I can’t go away you. ” “You can. Don’t try to be chivalrous, it doesn’t fit you.