by Aaron Crash
Cold stones lay under my hands. A high wind whistled above me. I smelled the ocean.
Pushing myself up onto my knees, I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. I was in jeans and a red hoodie. I knelt in the world’s worst-maintained courtyard, weeds growing from cracked and scattered pavers. I stared down at a woman’s sandaled feet.
She was standing over me, a woman with a definite Egyptian vibe about her. It was the haircut, very Cleopatra; her skin was dusky and smooth. Those sandals also had a classic feel to them, rough leather that wrapped around her shapely calves up to her knees. Yes, shapely, and I was liking the thigh I followed up under her ivory-colored tunic.
What the hell is a tunic? I was a twenty-first-century guy, and fashion wasn’t my thing. I wasn’t a hair stylist either. I thought she might have bangs, though I didn’t really know what bangs were. Brits call them a fringe. That didn’t help.
She wore a gold circlet fashioned out of interlocking golden rings. And she wasn’t happy. Her light brown eyes, nearly gold, flashed with enough fury that I thought she might Spartan kick me with her classic footwear and shapely calves. Or she could beat me to death with the butt end of her big fork. The spear was wrapped in leather, and weathered, with two long points. It wasn’t a trident. More of a duodent? Was that a thing? Across her back was a net. Weights hung off the webbing.
I was still sweating, dizzy, and just glad not to be in intestine-shredding pain. And I still couldn’t remember my name—just thinking about it sent more sharp pain through my raw belly.
I looked away from Princess Forks-a-lot—she hadn’t said a word so far, and she didn’t look like she was in the right headspace for conversation. I took a second to try and figure out where I was. It wasn’t a courtyard after all, but the ruins of a circular building, overgrown and left to the elements. An empty fountain was off to the side, and it hadn’t seen water in a long, long time. Statues stood in alcoves around an altar under a collapsed roof. That was how I could see the sky. And hear the wind.
“You don’t have wings!” the Cleopatra cosplayer shrieked. She hauled me to my feet, which was kind of comical because I outweighed her by a hundred pounds and was taller by a good six inches. Yet, she was strong. Under her tunic, she had definite X-Fit muscles. X-Fit was CrossFit’s little brother, the next generation of high-intensity training.
Ha! I knew what X-Fit was. I wasn’t completely useless. Now, if I could only master the name thing.
“Should I have wings?” I was smirking, though I knew any kind of wise-ass smile around a pissed-off woman was a bad, bad thing. Whoever I was, I had that bit of wisdom going for me.
“What is that accent? What are you wearing? Who are you?” she said, shaking me by the hoodie. “You’re not Lalindra Namenri! You’re not a mighty winged warrior! We needed a warrior! You look useless!”
Glancing around, I noticed I was standing in the middle of a circle chalked on the stones, with intersecting lines that led to candles and inscriptions on the border of the summoning area. The massive tattoo on the woman’s left arm was still glowing with a silver light. I think that was the light I’d seen. I’d definitely heard her voice.
She tried to slap me, but I saw it coming. I grabbed her arm and got in her face. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you don’t get to hit me. Ever. And I don’t know what my accent is because I’m speaking a language I don’t know.”
Weird. Somehow, I could understand this woman, and she could understand me. The words formed in my head as English and changed into whatever she was speaking.
She shoved me away and twirled her duodent. No, that wasn’t right—a bident—she had a bident.
Bells rang out, not happy bells, but the panicked gongs of alarm.
“Fool! The Kankar are minutes from our walls.” She frowned. “Do you know how to fight?”
I winced. “Hey, crazy, I don’t even know who I am. Who are you? And what the hell?” I did know how to fight. Too bad I asked her questions rather than give her an answer.
Her lips were pulled into a snarl, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Whoever she’d been expecting, it was clear my showing up instead was going to have some serious consequences for her game plan, whatever that was.
She spat at my feet, spun, and ran from the courtyard. But not before I heard her breath catch in a sob. I didn’t know much right then. I did know she’d summoned the wrong guy, it had broken her heart, and the Kankar weren’t going to be very cuddly.
I felt bad and chased after her. My stomach was still torn to pieces by whatever had filled my belly with fire.
I went through a dark corridor and burst out into the awful smell of battle. The Kankar hadn’t been minutes away from their walls but seconds. When I say walls, I mean a swiss-cheesed assortment of loose bricks and stones haphazardly thrown together, interwoven with tree branches lashed together with what looked like seaweed. It smelled like it. The whole place stank of murk, rot, and smoke. Parts of the fence were burning. Black plumes boiled into the air. As for the Kankar? They stunk like a dog pound a week after a zombie apocalypse.
I was in an open space of cobblestones and empty stalls, an old-school marketplace in an old-school city. Half-timbered houses lined the market. The wooden beams were obviously ancient but holding, while the infill, a yellow mud, was flaking away. It was like I’d stumbled into a neglected European village that had been overrun with monsters.
The woman who’d summoned me, and who had insisted I should have wings, fought with her bident. She drove it into the chest of a big antlered beast thing, skin like oiled midnight. The monster stood on hooves and had legs like a horse. It also had a horse face but with big black eyes and a bright red mouth—the contrast made its hide seem darker. Instead of an herbivore’s grinding molars, it had big, meat-tearing fangs. Black antlers, like polished ebony, rose off its head. The thing wielded two short broad blades in thick three-fingered hands. Hardened leather armor hung off its shoulders, covering its chest and belly. It wore a loincloth. I was really glad about that last bit because I didn’t want my last sight on Earth—or wherever the hell I was—to be some freaky wolfed-out moose junk.
The woman’s bident pierced both the monster’s armor and its skin. Black blood dripped onto the stones.
I figured I was a little over six feet tall, the woman was five six probably, and the antlered creature, a Kankar, was a good foot or taller than I was. The monster hacked at the woman. The tattoo on her left arm flashed. Ice appeared on the creature’s sword, covering the weapon in a thin layer, before extending into the meaty hand of the thing and freezing that as well. The thing was forced to drop it. Okay, so the woman could cast spells. Sure. Because she’d summoned me, and that was a thing.
I wished she would’ve just texted.
Hey, looking for a winged hero. Interested?
I don’t have wings.
Sad face emoji. OK.
Maybe next time?
LOL. No.
Instead, she’d plucked me away from family, friends, and coffee and brought me here. Wherever here was.
The antlered man-beast shrieked in pain. I would’ve thought her initial strike would’ve killed it—being skewered on the end of her fork couldn’t have felt good. Instead, it thrashed on the end of the skewer, swinging its flat blades for all it was worth.
Other people, humans, were battling in the streets. Mostly it was women, in tunics, but a few men were there, wearing medieval chain mail. Not all of the Kankar were on foot. Some rode monstrous elk-like creatures who snorted fire from their nostrils. From their eyes blazed flames. Those big elk were the size of Clydesdales—they had to be to carry around the weight of their riders. The fire-breathers gave off a bestial stink, like a bad day at your local slaughterhouse.
I was stuck in the middle of the battle royale, in a strange place, suffering from indigestion and amnesia. Demon deer men riding hellish elk things were everywhere—that was a whole holly bush of antlers to deal with.
&n
bsp; I had two choices. Run and hide and try to figure out what the hell was going on, or stand and fight.
There were some pretty compelling arguments for my booking out of there as fast as my red Converses would carry me, but something inside me flat-out refused to do it. I was a warrior, wings or no. I could feel it. Somehow, I knew that the universe was a nasty, dangerous place, and humans had to stick together. Besides, I couldn’t wait to see Cleopatra’s face when I saved the day.
Click here to continue reading Raider Annihilation.
Dedication
THIS BOOK IS FOR MY friend Holly, who is awesome and full of life. I want to be Holly when I grow up.
Acknowledgements
DONNY BOY BAUMAN TALKED with me on the phone while he was getting his new house in order and taking care of business. And IBP3 might have had Blue Oyster Cult on the soundtrack because of you, Don. Thanks for helping me write another book.
For all the alchemy stuff, which is both real and imagined, I reached out to my science officer in blue, Lou J. Berger. Vinegar leeches the calcium out of bones, so they become malleable. How fucking cool is that?
I can’t thank my two Lord-level patrons enough: Clinton Haid and TJ McFadden. You guys are awesome, and I appreciate the shecks.
Finally, here’s another book from the amazing Black Forge Books team. Thanks to DJ, Kelly, and the gang for taking us all to Vempor’s Cape. I love that I get to spend so much time at Old Ironbound with Ymir and the princesses of Old Ironbound.
Patreon
THANKS SO MUCH FOR reading Barbarian Alchemist (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 3)! I’ve started a Patreon page and I’m posting cover art, chapters, and giving away free ebooks when they come out. Yes, being my patron, gets you the chapters and the ebook before anyone else! It’s a deal.
Also, if you have an idea for a story, or a suggestion, my Patreon page is the perfect place to reach out. That’s the thing with Patreon—if the fans want a specific story, I’ll write one, however spicy, in any of my worlds including American Dragons, Full Frontal Galaxy, The Princesses of the Ironbound, or the Son of Fire.
It’s been my lifelong dream to become a professional novelist, and I hope to share more of my journey with you as I continue to write books people love.
Sign up here at www.patreon.com/aaroncrashbooks.
Thanks again!
Aaron Crash
Books by Black Forge
War God’s Mantle: Ascension (Book 1)
War God’s Mantle: Descent (Book 2)
War God’s Mantle: Underworld (Book 3)
Denver Fury: American Dragons (Book 1)
Cheyenne Magic: American Dragons (Book 2)
Montana Firestorm: American Dragons (Book 3)
Texas Showdown: American Dragons (Book 4)
California Imperium: American Dragons (Book 5)
Dodge City Knights: American Dragons (Book 6)
Leadville Crucible: American Dragons (Book 7)
Alaska Kingdom: American Dragons (Book 8)
Alamosa Arena: American Dragons (Book 9)
Wyoming Dynasty: American Dragons (Book 10)
Raider Annihilation (Son of Fire Book 1)
Dungeon Bringer 1
Dungeon Bringer 2
Dungeon Bringer 3
Witch King 1
Witch King 2
Witch King 3
Barbarian Outcast (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 1)
Barbarian Assassin (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 2)
Barbarian Alchemist (Princesses of the Ironbound Book 3)
Robot Bangarang: Full Frontal Galaxy (Book 1)
Space Dragon Boogaloo: Full Frontal Galaxy (Book 2)
Books by Shadow Alley Press
LitRPG
Rogue Dungeon: The Rogue Dungeon Series (Book 1)
Civil War: The Rogue Dungeon Series (Book 2)
Troll Nation: The Rogue Dungeon Series (Book 3)
Rogue Evolution: The Rogue Dungeon Series (Book 4)
Neon Dark: Zero.Hero Book 1
Inheritance: The Last Enclave Book 1
A Snake’s Life Book 1
Viridian Gate Online (LitRPG)
Viridian Gate Online: Cataclysm (Book 1)
Viridian Gate Online: Crimson Alliance (Book 2)
Viridian Gate Online: The Jade Lord (Book 3)
Viridian Gate Online: Imperial Legion (Book 4)
Viridian Gate Online: The Lich Priest (Book 5)
Viridian Gate Online: Doom Forge (Book 6)
Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (Book 7)
Viridian Gate Online: Side Quests (Anthology)
Viridian Gate Online: The Artificer (Imperial Initiative 1)
Viridian Gate Online: Nomad Soul (The Illusionist Book 1)
Viridian Gate Online: Dead Man’s Tide (The Illusionist Book 2)
Viridian Gate Online: Inquisitor’s Foil (The Illusionist Book 3)
Viridian Gate Online: Firebrand (The Firebrand Book 1)
Viridian Gate Online: Embers of Rebellion (The Firebrand Book 2)
Viridian Gate Online: Path of the Blood Phoenix (The Firebrand Book 3)
Viridian Gate Online: Vindication (The Alchemic Weaponeer Book 1)
Viridian Gate Online: Absolution (The Alchemic Weaponeer Book 2)
Viridian Gate Online: Insurrection (The Alchemic Weaponeer Book 3)
Wuxia
Darkening Skies (Path of the Thunderbird Book 1)
Stone Soul (Path of the Thunderbird Book 2)
Demon Beast (Path of the Thunderbird Book 3)
Hollow Core (School of Swords and Serpents Book 1)
Eclipse Core (School of Swords and Serpents Book 2)
Chaos Core (School of Swords and Serpents Book 3)
Burning Core (School of Swords and Serpents Book 4)
Sages of the Underpass (Battle Artists Book 1)
Urban Fantasy
Strange Magic (Yancy Lazarus Episode One)
Cold Hearted (Yancy Lazarus Episode Two)
Flashback: Siren Song (Yancy Lazarus Episode 2.5)
Wendigo Rising (Yancy Lazarus Episode Three)
Flashback: The Morrigan (Yancy Lazarus Episode 3.5)
Savage Prophet (Yancy Lazarus Episode Four)
Brimstone Blues: A Yancy Lazarus Novel
MudMan (A Lazarus World Novel)
Two-Faced: Legend of the Treesinger (Book 1)
Soul Game: Legend of the Treesinger (Book 2)
Post-apocalyptic
Armageddon Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 1)
Machine-Gun Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 2)
Inferno Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 3)
Storm Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 4)
GameLit, Harem, and Cultivation on Facebook
IF YOU LOVE GAMELIT and Cultivation and want to find more awesome books, check out the GameLit Society on Facebook! Or if you’re a wuxia diehard, you’ll want to stop by the Western Cultivation Stories Group! Looking for a Harem fix? You can get more on the Harem Lit Group!
LitRPG on Facebook
YOU CAN FIND BOOKS and awesome recommendations by checking out the litRPG Group on Facebook!
Even More LitRPG on Facebook
YOU CAN FIND EVEN MORE books and awesome recommendations by checking out LitRPG Books on Facebook!
Copyright
Barbarian Alchemist is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Aaron Crash and Black Forge Books.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyrig
ht law. For permission requests, email the publisher, subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.
[email protected]
About the Author
Aaron Crash writes adrenaline-fueled odysseys into the extreme regions of speculative fiction. If you're looking for cyborg vampires or jellyfish centaurs, you've come to the right place. He is the co-author of the War God’s Mantle series (Shadow Alley Press) and other over-the-top sci-fi/fantasy novels. He’s been an Amazon All-Star and his books have broken into Amazon’s Top 100. When he’s not wrestling the word dragons, he mountain bikes, kills pixels dead, and has been known to watch a movie or three. He lives in Colorado where he does devilish things.
