The Krozair Cycle (The Saga of Dray Prescot omnibus Book 4)

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Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Kenneth Bulmer. Four hundred light years from Earth, Kregen is a marvelous world, peopled by wonderful beings, filled with light and clamor and furor of life lived to the hilt. But Kregen has its darker side, where horror and terror batten on innocent people, where sorceries rend reason, where injustice denies light. Here, in the unforgiving yet rewarding world of Kregen, struggling throug Four hundred light years from Earth, Kregen is a marvelous world, peopled by wonderful beings, filled with light and clamor and furor of life lived to the hilt.

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Here, in the unforgiving yet rewarding world of Kregen, struggling through disaster and triumph, Dray Prescot has made his home. He has acquired a number of titles and estates but now the people of the island empire of Vallia, which has been ripped into shreds by ambitious and mercenary invaders, have called on him to lead them to freedom as their emperor. Reluctant to accept the imperium, he shoulders the burden because, rightly or wrongly, he sees this as the lesser evil Get A Copy.

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Showing Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Jonathan Greisz rated it it was amazing Jul 20, Randy Harmelink rated it it was amazing Mar 04, Marc Watson rated it really liked it Feb 07, Rob Diaz rated it liked it Aug 18, Jerry White rated it it was amazing Jan 06, A number of volunteers then worked hard to tidy this machine translation into readable English. More volunteers then brought their extensive knowledge of Dray Prescot and Kregen to bear, honing the text into a style hard to distinguish from the rest of the books in the series.

I am also confident that there are mistakes. Please let me know martyn mushroom-ebooks. Lit by the ruby and emerald fires of Antares, the planet Kregen, four hundred light years from Earth, is a world harsh yet beautiful, terrible yet alluring.

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There any man or woman may achieve what their heart desires if they plan and struggle and keep faith with their innate purpose. The Star Lords have brought Dray Prescot to this place and plunged him headlong into danger and adventure, and he must cope with tasks in their service that at first glance seem insurmountable. Dray Prescot, as described by one who has seen him on this Earth, is a man above middle height with brown hair and level brown eyes, brooding and dominating, with enormously broad shoulders and a powerful physique. There is about him an abrasive honesty and indomitable courage.

He moves like a savage hunting cat, sudden, silent and lethal. Currently, he is on the subcontinent of Balintol where he has the task of uniting the disparate countries so that all Paz can defend itself against the predatory, fish-headed Shanks from the other side of the world. For this reason they have hired mercenary armies and allied themselves with the traditional enemies of the country. Dray Prescot has to use all his strengths and all his scheming and tricks to achieve his goal with as little bloodshed as possible.

For the sake of his love of Delia, Delia of Delphond, Delia of the Blue Mountains, Dray Prescot sets everything else aside and throws himself into new and deadly hazards under the streaming mingled lights of the Suns of Scorpio. One of the best ways to survive on Kregen is to know at all times exactly what is going on behind your back.

The cat-man, his whiskery face distorted with rage, turned towards his adversary and exchanged blows, but apparently forgot in the heat of battle this essential habit that makes for an unabbreviated life. As the airboat swayed in the sky, a hulking fellow stormed up behind the Fristle and clubbed him over the head. The Fristle let out a short, surprised, pained cry, and fell helplessly out of the lifter. They laughed. They were Rapas, with heads that bore a close resemblance to black vultures.

They carried swords, but for the Fristle the cudgel had been sufficient. They mocked him. Dokerty has no time for blintzes who worship Tolaar! They turned around. I held the cudgel in a grip that I judged would prevent any further use — either against me or against the Fristle. I was in no mood to be overly polite, nor even to have sport with them. With a sudden jerk that surprised both of them the cudgel came into my possession and I brandished it first under one beak and then under the other. For a moment, nothing happened. The airboat, a quite ordinary passenger lifter, was flying above the clouds on its way to Oxonium.

An invitation from San Paynor, the high priest of Cymbaro, had taken me to Farinsee where I paid a visit to young Tiri who was progressing well in the studies that would eventually confer strange and mystical powers upon her. It had gone well.

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Now the next task awaited me. Young Dimpy had remained in Farinsee. All of us wore ponsho fleeces over our fashionable shamlaks because at this height the bite of the cold could be considerable. The brief, breathless moment came to an abrupt end. I reached down with my free hand to heave the trembling Fristle aboard — and both Rapas threw themselves on me. A strange cloud blocked my view. Either the Rapas were damned fast, or I was incredibly slow, because they were instantly on me, by Krun! The first threw himself against my legs. His sidekick aimed at my head with his cudgel. He hit me but I did not feel the impact.

Somehow, I was hanging onto the railing, holding tight with one hand while with the other I tried to protect my head.

Of the Fristle there was no sign. No cry of despair could be heard. The cudgel struck my hand. Again I felt nothing. But I fell. Of that I was sure. The strange cloud that impaired my vision blotted out the leaf-shaped silhouette of the flier. Instead I saw treetops, the glint of a river and a red roof. I fell head over heels through the air. I plummeted downwards, and could do nothing except wonder if the Star Lords would hoick me out of mortal danger at the last minute.

Strangely, the trees, river and roof beneath me dissolved. I hurtled past steep rocky cliffs bathed in a gloomy red light from the fiery lava lake lurking at the bottom.

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Everything around me was red. For two heartbeats, I wondered if these were the hellish mists that veiled the gateway to the Ice Floes of Sicce. Or maybe it was a Herrelldrin Hell. Then I came to my senses. By the ruptured eyeballs and dangling entrails of Makki-Grodno! I had dreamed it all. I was staying overnight in a caravanserai north of Oxonium, which was recently hit by an earthquake. The owner of the gruff voice was a traveler like me. I did not sweat, but I felt a shudder, by Krun!

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That dream had been too real in a very unpleasant way. Granted, it had vividly demonstrated one of the many problems with which Tolindrin in the subcontinent of Balintol struggled. The two religions of Tolaar and Dokerty, opponents in a religious war, were the cause of riots and civil commotion all over the country, and nowhere caused more damage than in the capital Oxonium.

To my way of thinking the superior religion of Cymbaro was being pushed to one side. I pulled myself up from the floor without making any effort to reply to the unfriendly remark, and crawled back onto the bed. The obsessive attempts of powerful nobles and princesses to overthrow King Tom, and even to lay claim to the crown, already gave the country enough problems to cope with — and it could well do without a religious war, by Vox!