About the Book: Reign of the Leech King is the fourth in the "Dreams of Betrayal" series of science fiction adventures.

Excerpt From the Book

Inga moved through the tables with the ease of a dancer as she balanced a tray of mugs frothing full of ale on her shoulder. The pub had a small crowd of people pushed indoors by the rain which hadn't let up for weeks. Inga didn't mind the crowd. She actually preferred it busy because it helped to keep her thoughts away from Laktos.

Outside, the streets of the shire were flooded above the curbstones which added to the misery of the townsfolk. The roads were knee-deep in mud so thick it could at times suck the boots off of a person's foot.

The fields around the shire were quagmires, and the people were already feeling the loss of their fresh crops. The shortages would only get worse as winter took hold of the land.

It was impossible to keep from getting soaked even on the briefest of journeys. Inga's shoes were still damp from her own sodden plod to the pub two hours earlier.

She wound her way towards the back table, dodging customers and buckets placed to catch the steady drips of rainwater from the leaking roof. In a darkened corner at the very back of the pub's main room sat two patrons sitting in the shadows. Inga rarely judged people, but when she neared these two, she sensed the aura of the stench of corruption permeating the air around the unlikely couple. The uncomfortable sensation caused her to hesitate briefly before approaching with their drinks.

Apaula shifted her bulk around unable to get comfortable on the stiff wooden chair. The armrests were set too close together and were pinching her sides painfully. It felt to her as if she had been stuffed into the tiny piece of furniture. In reality, a fact she refused to accept, her tremendous increase in physical size and weight was the problem. Her relationship with the soon-to-be-crowned Fu-Bar had given her access to a plethora of delightful foods. She had been gorging herself for weeks on exotic varieties of sweetmeats, breadstuffs, wild fruits, odd shaped orange gourds, stuffed pigs and more. The mere thought of all that delicious food made Apaula's stomach gurgle with anticipation. Digestive acids boiled until she felt an upwelling of pressure in her abdomen which made her very uncomfortable.

With a grunt, she tugged her waist up past the arms of the chair. By shifting her hip, she was able to raise one buttock off the seat and release the pressure that burned inside her lower intestines.

Fu-Bar sat across from her at the scarred plank of wood which served as a table silently watching Apaula as she squirmed around in her chair. An instant later, the lantern which hung above her head flared, then brightened, while the flame flickered wildly inside the glass enclosure.

The smell moved towards Fu-Bar. He imagined he could actually see a very pale mustard-colored cloud slowly expanding, reaching for him. Then it hit him like a slap in the face. His nose was assaulted by a smell of rotten eggs and over-ripened fruit which made his nostrils burn. He held his breath placing his hopes on the lantern's flickering flame to clear the air. His eyes rolled upward focusing on the lantern as it hungrily consumed the gaseous cloud.

Apaula was oblivious to Fu-Bar's discomfort as she droned on about her plans. "I'm going to have a talk with the carpenters later. I want to be sure that your throne is designed properly." She sipped the last dregs of ale from the bottom of her cup thinking more about her own throne than his. "It should be large and ornate, perhaps gilded."

Fu-Bar ignored her ramblings pushing aside her voice with the rest of the background noise. He hated his current situation, and the overflow of his anger was felt by anyone who had the misfortune of garnering his attention.

Living in his one-room hovel was made worse by the permanent squalor. And Apaula's unwanted company made the room feel less than half its original size. She had attached herself to him like the leeches that clung to his still swollen cheek, but he had a plan of his own, and when the time was right, he would get rid of her. For now, he would keep her alive as long as she served his purposes, but once he crowned himself king, he could replace her with any maiden of his choosing.

If only the weather would clear so his men could get back to work putting the finishing touches on the castle interior. Frustrated, Fu-Bar grumbled about the rain. "This damn rain. Will it never end so that I can move into my castle?"

Inga glided close to the table and held her breath as she penetrated Apaula's sulfurous cloud. Balancing her tray in one hand, she quickly replaced the empty mugs from the table with full tankards capped with froth. She hurried as best she could, careful not to spill a single drop. Her eyes were stinging and she could feel her face flushing from the lack of oxygen.

Fu-Bar openly ogled her. He liked the way she appeared in the light from the lantern, especially the rosy glow to her cheeks. He let his imagination tell him where else on her shapely body she might blush. He noticed how the glow transformed her hair into gold threads and her fair skin into a creamy, smooth beauty. He shifted in his seat so he could look down her blouse as she bent over to pick up his mug, but he couldn't see much. She had her bodice laced up securely. He got the feeling that her tightly bound clothing was intended to keep men out as much as to keep all of her womanly assets confined. Disappointed and irritated he dismissively waved her away. "Be done with it," he said mildly.

Inga backed humbly away. "Yes, milord." She hated having to bow down to the customers, but Sifty the barkeep insisted that the patrons always be treated with respect. But he was also fiercely loyal to his waitresses and would not tolerate anyone bothering them. Sifty was a smallish man, but everyone respected him because being the owner of the only pub in the shire made Sifty a very powerful man. Nobody wanted to be banned from the one tavern in the whole inhabited kingdom.

Sifty also made her feel safe, and that was one of the reasons that she kept working for him. Another reason she felt protected was Sal. He always managed to show up at closing time to escort her back to the inn where they each had a room. Once she had looked up in time to see Sal nodding at Sifty as he entered the pub. Sifty, perpetually wiping a glass with his favorite rag, nodded back as if he'd just passed the torch, relinquishing his assigned duty. She wasn't completely comfortable with the notion of being someone's assigned task, but she had to admit to herself that deep down she liked the feeling of being safeguarded.

Sifty had befriended both Sal and Inga several weeks earlier. They had come into the pub looking travel-weary and solemn. Sifty had seen all types of people over the years and he had learned to read them pretty well. In their eyes he had seen descent, honest people carrying a burden in their hearts amid traces of grief. Saddened by their hardship, Sifty had brought them each a cool glass of stout, on the house. Over the weeks since then, Sifty had become like a second brother to Inga and a friend to Sal.

Inga placed the empty mugs on the counter and frowned at Sifty as he drew up four more tankards. "I don't like that Fu-Bar man. The way he looks at me like I'm a side of beefalo, he makes my skin crawl."

Sifty placed two mugs on her tray. "Keep yer tone down, lass. Fu-Bar is to be our next king," he whispered. "There's no need for you to be worried. I'll take his order from now on."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain. It's just that there's," she leaned in closer and lowered her voice, "something unsettling about him and that disgusting woman with him."

Sifty gave her a stern look of disapproval and in a harsh whisper he admonished her. "Best you not be saying those things out loud. Fu-Bar is not a forgiving man. I pity anyone who Fu-Bar takes a disliking to, like that mysterious Laktos person the baron is always ranting on about. If Fu-Bar-"

Inga couldn't believe her ears. "Did you say 'Laktos'?"

Sifty caught himself in mid word. "Huh?"

Inga's heart was thumping wildly beneath her breast. "Laktos? You said Fu-Bar was looking for Laktos?!" She could barely contain her excitement at hearing about her lost love. Could it be true? Was he nearby? She fought the urge to bolt out into the street and shout his name over and over again until he came to her.

Sifty's eyes urged her to silence, but it was too late. A booming voice echoed from the back of the tavern. "Laktos?! Who has seen him?! And where is he now?!"

Inga saw the look of fear in Sifty's eyes and realized with a sickening feeling inside that everyone in the pub was now looking at her, including Fu-Bar, who was expecting an answer.

"This can't be good," mumbled Sifty.
 

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The books in this fantasy series are (1) Dreams of Betrayal, (2) Realm of Nightmares, (3) Dreams of a King and (4) Reign of the Leech King.

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