{"product_id":"2940013762046","title":"Kings of the Night","description":"The dagger flashed downward. A sharp cry broke in a gasp. The form\u003cbr\u003eon the rough altar twitched convulsively and lay still. The jagged\u003cbr\u003eflint edge sawed at the crimsoned breast, and thin bony fingers,\u003cbr\u003eghastly dyed, tore out the still-twitching heart. Under matted white\u003cbr\u003ebrows, sharp eyes gleamed with a ferocious intensity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBesides the slayer, four men stood about the crude pile of stones\u003cbr\u003ethat formed the altar of the God of Shadows. One was of medium height,\u003cbr\u003elithely built, scantily clad, whose black hair was confined by a\u003cbr\u003enarrow iron band in the center of which gleamed a single red jewel. Of\u003cbr\u003ethe others, two were dark like the first. But where he was lithe, they\u003cbr\u003ewere stocky and misshapen, with knotted limbs, and tangled hair\u003cbr\u003efalling over sloping brows. His face denoted intelligence and\u003cbr\u003eimplacable will; theirs merely a beast-like ferocity. The fourth man\u003cbr\u003ehad little in common with the rest. Nearly a head taller, though his\u003cbr\u003ehair was black as theirs, his skin was comparatively light and he was\u003cbr\u003egray-eyed. He eyed the proceedings with little favor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd, in truth, Cormac of Connacht was little at ease. The Druids\u003cbr\u003eof his own isle of Erin had strange dark rites of worship, but nothing\u003cbr\u003elike this. Dark trees shut in this grim scene, lit by a single torch.\u003cbr\u003eThrough the branches moaned an eerie night-wind. Cormac was alone\u003cbr\u003eamong men of a strange race and he had just seen the heart of a man\u003cbr\u003eripped from his still-pulsing body. Now the ancient priest, who looked\u003cbr\u003escarcely human, was glaring at the throbbing thing. Cormac shuddered,\u003cbr\u003eglancing at him who wore the jewel. Did Bran Mak Morn, king of the\u003cbr\u003ePicts, believe that this white-bearded old butcher could foretell\u003cbr\u003eevents by scanning a bleeding human heart? The dark eyes of the king\u003cbr\u003ewere inscrutable. There were strange depths to the man that Cormac\u003cbr\u003ecould not fathom, nor any other man.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The portents are good!\" exclaimed the priest wildly, speaking\u003cbr\u003emore to the two chieftains than to Bran. \"Here from the pulsing heart\u003cbr\u003eof a captive Roman I read--defeat for the arms of Rome! Triumph for\u003cbr\u003ethe sons of the heather!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe two savages murmured beneath their breath, their fierce eyes\u003cbr\u003esmoldering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Go and prepare your clans for battle,\" said the king, and they\u003cbr\u003elumbered away with the ape-like gait assumed by such stunted giants.\u003cbr\u003ePaying no more heed to the priest who was examining the ghastly ruin\u003cbr\u003eon the altar, Bran beckoned to Cormac. The Gael followed him with\u003cbr\u003ealacrity. Once out of that grim grove, under the starlight, he\u003cbr\u003ebreathed more freely. They stood on an eminence, looking out over long\u003cbr\u003eswelling undulations of gently waving heather. Near at hand a few\u003cbr\u003efires twinkled, their fewness giving scant evidence of the hordes of\u003cbr\u003etribesmen who lay close by. Beyond these were more fires and beyond\u003cbr\u003ethese still more, which last marked the camp of Cormac's own men,\u003cbr\u003ehard-riding, hard-fighting Gaels, who were of that band which was just\u003cbr\u003ebeginning to get a foothold on the western coast of Caledonia--the\u003cbr\u003enucleus of what was later to become the kingdom of Dalriadia. To the\u003cbr\u003eleft of these, other fires gleamed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd far away to the south were more fires--mere pinpoints of\u003cbr\u003elight. But even at that distance the Pictish king and his Celtic ally\u003cbr\u003ecould see that these fires were laid out in regular order.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The fires of the legions,\" muttered Bran. \"The fires that have\u003cbr\u003elit a path around the world. The men who light those fires have\u003cbr\u003etrampled the races under their iron heels. And now--we of the heather\u003cbr\u003ehave our backs at the wall. What will fall on the morrow?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Victory for us, says the priest,\" answered Cormac.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBran made an impatient gesture. \"Moonlight on the ocean. Wind in\u003cbr\u003ethe fir tops. Do you think that I put faith in such mummery? Or that I\u003cbr\u003eenjoyed the butchery of a captive legionary? I must hearten my people;\u003cbr\u003eit was for Gron and Bocah that I let old Gonar read the portents. The\u003cbr\u003ewarriors will fight better.\"","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47145904636144,"sku":"2940013762046","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013762046_p0.jpg?v=1763589917","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013762046","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}