Free The Wrath of the Lizard Lord by Jon Mayhew

It would have looked vaguely comical if it hadn’t been so disgusting. Mary peered down at Dakkar. Smoke from the explosion blackened her face and her eyes were wide.
    ‘That’ll teach ’im not to bolt ’is food,’ she muttered, grinning.
    Dakkar, still dangling upside down, broke into a giggle and couldn’t help laughing along with Mary. Then the satchel strap snapped.
    Dakkar tumbled, weightless, through the air. He scrabbled at the few low branches and twigs that whipped past him but gravity wrenched them from his feeble grasp. Then the hard ground punched the air from his lungs. He lay, gasping and dazed, staring up at the branches.
    Mary’s face appeared high up above him.
    ‘Are you all right?’ she called down.
    Dakkar opened his mouth but no words came out.
    A few minutes later, Mary appeared beside him.
    ‘I think . . . we should try . . . and find another cage,’ Dakkar said in a hoarse voice.
    But Mary didn’t reply; she only stared into the undergrowth. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, his bruised back stiff and aching.
    The leaves and branches shook as something approached them – several somethings, judging by the movement all around them.
    ‘Not more of the beasts?’ Dakkar groaned, climbing to his feet and preparing to drag himself back up the tree again.
    ‘Worse, I think,’ Mary whispered, and pointed.
    The green, glossy leaves of the jungle were swept aside by a dark, muscular arm. A human arm. Enormous and covered in fine, black hair. The rest of the giant pushed his way through the foliage and stood glaring at Dakkar and Mary. As tall as the lizard they had just slain, his thick black hair tumbled on to his shoulders and down to his waist. His dark eyes glittered under heavy brows. Animal skins covered his body, some scaly and reptilian, others the fur of some kind of mammal.
    He raised the huge club in his hand and bellowed in an incoherent language. Suddenly more of the giants appeared, all clad in furs and skins, all carrying spears and clubs, all looking menacingly at Dakkar. The giants closed in on them.
    ‘I don’t think we’ll be getting back to Lyme for some time yet,’ Dakkar said.

Chapter Thirteen
    Gog
    The giant glanced around at the lumps of flesh scattered on the ground and the two legs standing at the base of the tree.
    ‘Saranda!’ He grunted, shaking his club at the smouldering ruin of the lizard. ‘Ung!’
    ‘What’s he sayin’?’ Mary said, her voice quavering. ‘He sounds angry.’
    ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Dakkar snapped back. He gave a bow to the giant and pointed at the lizard. ‘Saranda!’ he said, copying the giant.
    The big man frowned and tilted his head to one side then stepped forward, jabbing a huge, stubby finger into Dakkar’s chest. Dakkar gave a gasp and fell on to his backside.
    ‘You,’ he said. ‘Kill Saranda?’ He stabbed his finger at the lizard, a look of bewilderment on his face.
    Dakkar stared up at the giant that loomed over him. ‘Y-yes,’ he stammered. ‘I killed Saranda.’
    The giant narrowed his eyes, jutting his big chin forward. Dakkar could see his crooked brown teeth poking over his cracked lips.
    ‘Rarrgh!’ the giant shouted. He said something else and the gigantic group pounced on Dakkar and Mary. A thick net made of vines dropped over them both. With the pull of a rope, it tightened round them, dragging them off their feet.
    Rough hands grabbed and bundled them up, still in the net. Two poles slid through the net holes above them and they found themselves suspended, carried by four of the huge men.
    ‘I think you said the wrong thing,’ Mary whispered.
    Dakkar kept quiet, watching the party of savage giants behind him picking up lumps of the charred lizard and stuffing them into sacks made of hide.
    The jungle slid past as the party carried Dakkar and Mary along. Large, glossy green leaves, vines dotted with flowers and fruit, and scrubby, thorny bushes all scraped by as the giants moved with