by Ty Johnston
Randall frowned as he looked to the sergeant. “I don’t want Maslin involved any more than he already is. The less he knows, the safer he will be.”
Gris nodded and turned his attentions on Kron. “I can’t change your minds about going to Kobalos, can I?”
Kron shook his head. Adara and Randall remained silent.
“So you’ve taken on the most powerful businessman and underworld figure in Bond,” Gris continued to his friend, “and now you’re turning your sights to Kobalos and the most powerful madman on the continent. That makes perfect sense. Whatever happened to settling down, getting married, having a few kids and enjoying the good life?”
Kron face was impassive, like dead stone. “It died with my parents, and with Wyck.”
“It died with my parents, too,” Adara added.
Randall saw no reason not to join. “And mine when my father murdered the rest of my family.”
Kron smirked at the sergeant. “It’s not as if you have become a family man.”
“No, but I had hoped I’d put most of this type nonsense behind me when I left the Prisonlands.” Gris grumbled and stared about at the other three.
Kron’s only response was a darker grin.
“When are you leaving and which way are you going?” Gris then interrupted himself. “No, don’t tell me. The less I know the safer it will be for the three of you.”
The others gave one another surprised looks.
“You will be going with us,” Kron said.
“Me? No.” Gris shook his head. “You can ride faster without me.”
Adara seemed the most disturbed by the idea, her voice pitched high. “It won’t be safe for you here.”
“Fortisquo and Verkain will be busy hunting you three.”
“You would be taking a large risk,” Randall said.
Gris turned to look at the healer. “Do you honestly think I will be safer on the road with you three?”
None of the others had an answer. They knew the truth. Their path would be a dangerous one.
Kron also expected another potential danger. Kobalos lay far to the northeast, a month’s hard ride. The mountain range called the Needles lay between West Ursia and the eastern part of the continent. Once over the Needles, the group would have to travel through either the Prisonlands or East Ursia to reach Kobalos. Neither path was appealing and each had dangers of its own. The only other option was an oceanic route through the northern sea, and that way was little better what with the snowy cold conditions and Jorsican pirates.
“He’s right.” Kron looked to Randall and Adara after having pondered Gris’s words. “He will be as safe in Bond as he would on the road with us. Also, he can serve a purpose by letting Markwood know we are not in immediate danger.”
The healer’s eyes flared. “I said I did not want Maslin involved.”
Kron spun on Randall, then eased his approach. “If he is not told something, he will try to find you himself. And as you yourself said, he is likely to try and join our band. While his aid would be appreciated and helpful, there is little use in us endangering an old man.”
Randall appeared taken back by the last words. “That old man is the greatest wizard living.”
No one could disagree with the healer.
“When are you setting out?” Gris asked.
“The morning sun will be up within the hour.” Kron glanced toward high windows in the warehouse walls. “We’ll rest until then. If you want us to, we will escort you to Markwood. If not, then we’ll make sure you are in condition to meet him. Either way, we will be leaving before noon.”
***
The morning was one of mute sadness. None of the group spoke as they stoically ate a breakfast of biscuits and tarts Adara purchased from a near vending booth.
Kron’s lips turned up slightly as he stared at the blueberry tart in his hands. The meal reminded him of Wyck and the sweet treats the boy used to buy with the money Kron gave him.
After breakfast, they packed what gear they had on their horses and mounted up outside the warehouse.
Kron reached down from his horse and shook Gris’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you to Markwood’s?”
Gris gave a weak smiled. “I’ll be safe enough. It’s you lot Ashal needs to be watching.”
Randall steered his animal to the other side of the sergeant and reached down to shake the man’s hand. “Tell Maslin not to worry. It will be some time before we reach Kobalos, and that is when the real danger will begin.”
Gris grinned up at the younger man. “I will do as you say, but don’t be surprised if the old wizard shows up on your trail.”
Randall laughed as he steered away. “I wouldn’t at all be surprised.”
Adara sat unmoving in her saddle. She had no one for the sergeant to pass words along to.
Gris turned to the woman but did not approach. “Fortisquo will be looking for you.” He smiled with gritted teeth. “I hope you give him the end of your blade.”
Adara returned the ferocious smile. “Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. The words of encouragement soared through her. She feared Fortisquo, but not because he was a grand master of the rapier; she feared the man because of the betrayal she had done to him and the emotional pain it had caused both of them. Still, she would not have done things differently. Life was a challenge, and Adara always sought more challenges. Kron offered her training to face those challenges and he and Randall brought along enough challenge of their own.
Kron sauntered forward. “We should be going.”
The three riders directed their horses away from the sergeant as he waved a goodbye.
Kron turned in his saddle and gave Gris a two-fingered salute, the sign for recognition of one Prisonlands border warden to another.
Still smiling, the sergeant returned the salute, fearing he would never see his old friend or the others again.
***
Kron steered the others across the North River bridge and into Uptown, thinking Belgad would not have as many contacts in the wealthiest section of the city, thus lessening any chances they would run across spies of the Dartague.
The group remained quiet for most of the ride through the town’s crowded morning streets until they spied several city guards speaking with two men wearing chain shirts and carrying long, heavy swords near the eastern gates of the walled city.
Randall pulled his steed to a stop next to Kron. “They could be Belgad’s men.”
Kron showed no signs of pulling away. “Keep riding.”
To their surprise, they were not stopped by the city guard nor the other two men.
“They must not have a description of us,” Kron said as they made their way through the gates and away from the city.
Once they were nearly a mile outside the walls, Darkbow halted his horse and turned in his saddle to stare back at the city he had called home as a boy and had come to know again in the last month. He gave the warden’s salute again and turned to face forward, riding east next to the river and his traveling companions.
Continued in: Road to Wrath: Book II of The Kobalos Trilogy
The Ursian Chronicles
(in order of publication)
City of Rogues: Book I of The Kobalos Trilogy
Road to Wrath: Book II of The Kobalos Trilogy
Dark King of the North: Book III of The Kobalos Trilogy
The Kobalos Trilogy OMNIBUS edition
Blade and Flame: short story sequel to The Kobalos Trilogy
Bayne’s Climb: Part I of The Sword of Bayne
A Thousand Wounds: Part II of The Sword of Bayne
Under the Mountain: Part III of The Sword of Bayne
The Sword of Bayne OMNIBUS edition
Ghosts of the Asylum
Demon Chains
The Castle of Endless Woe (novelette)
Six Swords, One Skeleton and a Sewer (short story)
Five Tales from The Rusty Scabbard
Mage Hunter: E
pisode I: Blooded Snow
Mage Hunter: Episode II: Sundered Shields
Mage Hunter: Episode III: Bared Blades
Mage Hunter: Episode IV: Hammered Iron
Mage Hunter: Episode V: Changeless Fate
Mage Hunter OMNIBUS edition
Shieldbreaker: Part I: Road of the Sword
Shieldbreaker: Part II: An End to Rage
Shieldbreaker: Part III: Betrayal of the Self
Shieldbreaker: Part IV: The Slave Pits of Mogus Potere
About the author
Ty Johnston is the author of several novels and short story collections and a former newspaper journalist who has been writing fiction for nearly twenty years. When not busy writing or reading, he enjoys spending time with his wife, their beagle and house rabbits. To find out more, check out his blog at tyjohnston.blogspot.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
Copyright © 2009 Ty Johnston
Cover artwork copyright © 2012 Ty Johnston
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 prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at [email protected].
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