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Thraxas and the Ice Dragon (Thraxas, book 9) by Martin Scott

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Add to Wishlist. USD 6. Sign in to Purchase Instantly. Explore Now. Buy As Gift. After a miserable voyage on a leaky fishing boat, Thraxas just wants to drink beer, but there are other matters to attend to. Turai has fallen to the enemy, and the armies of the West are gathering. Before war breaks out, there's the great sword-fighting tournament, which gives Thraxas the chance of almost unlimited gambling, if only he can persuade Makri to enter.

Makri is surprised to find herself looking after a baby dragon, and even more surprised to discover that Thraxas has a romantic past, one which leads them into a murder investigation in an unfamiliar land, where hostile forces oppose them at every turn. This is the ninth book in the Thraxas series. Product Details. Average Review.

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Write a Review. Thraxas and the Ice Dragon 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. Anonymous More than 1 year ago. Related Searches. Tom must battle the most dangerous Ghost Beasts yet! Eight or nine beers usually does it. What's eating you? You've been criticised in court before. Now I think about it, weren't you criticised in the Senate only last year? I've been lambasted by the best of them. Do you realise that I'm in exactly the same position I was when you arrived in this city a couple of years ago? I mean broke. Without a coin to my name.

Dependent on Gurd for ale on credit, till some degenerate walks through my door asking me to investigate some case which will no doubt involve me risking my life for a lousy thirty gurans a day.

It's not right. Look what I've done for this city. Fought in the wars, held back the Niojans and repelled the Orcish hordes. Did anyone pin a medal on me for that? Forget it. A little. Which doesn't alter the fact that I deserve a lot more than being stuck in this foul tavern. I ought to be employed by the Palace. That only goes to prove my point. There's no gratitude. I tell you, if that useless Deputy Consul Cicerius comes down here again begging for help I'm sending him away with a dragon's tooth up his nose.

To hell with them all.

I don't see why I have to take this examination. I'm so busy waiting tables I hardly have time to study. I glare at Makri with loathing. As far as I can see, if a person who's part Elf, part Orc and part Human decides to slaughter her captors, escape to civilisation, then sign up for college, she's only got herself to blame for her problems. She could have remained a gladiator. Makri was good at that. Undefeated champion. She's just about the most savage fighter ever seen in the west.

Slaughtering people is her speciality. Guild College is a foolish enterprise requiring long hours of study in rhetoric, philosophy, mathematics and God knows what else. No wonder she's stressed. The woman - and I use the term loosely - is next door to insane at the best of times; a result, I imagine, of having mixed blood, pointy ears and a general tendency to believe that all of life's difficulties can be solved with violence.

Makri departs downstairs.


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I take my beer to my room, slam the door, and clear some junk off the couch. I've had enough of this. Poverty is getting me down. I need a plan. There must be a way for a talented man to get ahead in this city. I finish my beer.


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  6. After a while I drag a bottle of klee out of a drawer and start in on it. The klee burns my throat as it goes down. Finest quality, distilled in the hills. The sun streams in, through the holes in the curtains. My room is hotter than Orcish hell. No one can think in heat like this. I guess I'm just going to finish my days in Twelve Seas broke, angry and unlamented.

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    I finish the klee, toss the bottle in the bin, and fall asleep. I'm dreaming about the time I won a beer-drinking contest down in Abelesi. Seven opponents, and every one of them unconscious on the floor while I was still demanding more ale, and quickly. One of my finest moments.

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    I'm rudely awakened by someone shaking my arm. I leap to my feet and make a grab for my sword. I'm angry at the invasion. How often do I have to tell you to stay out of my room! I yell at her. I swear if you walk in here uninvited again I'll run you through. You couldn't run me through if I had both arms tied behind my back, you fat ox, retorts Makri, never one to smooth over a disagreement.

    My heart sinks.