Road To Wrath (Book 2)

  Road to Wrath

  Book II of the Kobalos Trilogy

  The Ursian Chronicles

  by Ty Johnston

  Copyright 2009

  for the Goble Clan

  Acknowledgments

  The novel you are reading, its prequel and its sequel, could not have come together without the help I received from family and friends. Here I offer my thanks to Steve and Gere Goble for being my first readers and editors, and to my wife, Kelly, for her patience during the years it took me to put together this trilogy. Also, I want to send a shout out to publisher Jason Waltz of Rogue Blades Entertainment books for all his advice and help. To anyone else I have forgotten, please accept my apologies.

  Chapter One

  “It’s them. It’s got to be them.”

  The words were Skeet’s. He stood atop a grassy hill overlooking the dusty brick road to the west. His eyes were trained on a group of three riders slowly heading in his and Benny’s direction. By Skeet’s guess, the three would follow the road until it curved around the hill and would be below he and Benny within the hour.

  “Can’t be them. Too soon,” the ox of a man next to Skeet said.

  Skeet glanced up at his tall companion. “Get down, you idiot! You’re so big they’ll see you!”

  Benny dropped to one knee next to his friend, but his blonde head still towered over the tall grass around them.

  Skeet scowled and dropped to his hands and knees. “You’ll get us killed, you dumb elephant,” he said, crawling backward down the hill toward their two horses.

  As if he had forgotten his recent berating, Benny got to his feet again and stared off at the three riders in the distance. “One of them is wearing black, though,” he said. “That’s for sure.”

  Skeet yanked out the short sword from its sheath on his left hip and glared up the hill. “Get your ass down here!” he yelled. “They’ll be here soon and we need to be ready.”

  Benny took one last glance at the riders, then lumbered his way through the grass to his friend. “I forgot,” he said. “What are the other two supposed to look like.”

  Skeet scowled again. “I’ve told you half a dozen times already. There’s a man in black, another man in white robes and a woman dressed like a nobleman.”

  “And why do we want to kill them?”

  Skeet stamped the ground and spun away from his big comrade. “Ashal’s balls, Benny! If you weren’t so strong with a sword, I swear to the Eastern saints I would gut you myself.”

  “But you won’t, will you, Skeet,” Benny said, “ ’cause we’re pals, right?”

  Skeet cursed under his breath and kicked the ground again while staring off through a thin layer of trees to the Ursian River rambling not far to the south.

  “Right?” Benny said.

  Skeet frowned as he glanced over his shoulder at his companion, but the dumb, innocent look in Benny’s eyes had Skeet smiling soon enough. “Yes, you big goon,” he said. “We’re pals.”

  Benny grinned, showing his few remaining teeth, and reached for a gigantic axe with two sharp edges strapped on his horse’s back. He hefted the heavy weapon in two hands.

  “You ready?” Skeet asked.

  Benny held up the axe. “Ready!”

  “Good.” Skeet glanced around his big friend to where the road traveled by their side of the hill. “I want you to hide behind some trees on the other side while I conceal our horses.”

  Benny’s head nodded up and down.

  “Then I’m going to hide in some bushes on this side of the road,” Skeet went on. “When you see me step out to the road, I want you to come out swinging. You understand?”

  “Uh huh.” Benny’s head kept bobbing up and down.

  “Just take out the one nearest you with your first swing,” Skeet said, “then on your backswing take out another. Hopefully I can finish the third one off, but if I have trouble I want you there to back me up. Understand?”

  “Yep.” Benny’s head didn’t look as if it would stop on its own.

  “Good. Now git!”

  Without questioning, Benny trotted away.

  Skeet watched the big man shamble across the road to a spot behind a tree. “This could make us rich men, Benny,” Skeet whispered, snagging their horses by the reins and drawing the animals away.

  Within minutes Skeet had the horses tied to a tree and he was in his hiding place behind some bushes on the southern side of the road. He could just see Benny behind the tree on the opposite side, but was sure the riders could not spot either of them.

  It seemed to Skeet it took forever for the three riders to appear around a bend in the hill. When the group did show, to Skeet’s surprise there were only two riders, the man in white robes and the woman. Skeet glanced up and down the road, but saw no sign of the third rider other than his horse tied behind the woman’s animal.

  “Where is he?” Skeet whispered to himself.

  “Where you least expect,” a voice spoke from behind.

  Skeet almost turned. Cold steel at his throat kept him from moving.

  “Drop the sword,” the voice said.

  Skeet did what he was told.

  “Now stand up.”

  Skeet did that too.

  “Turn around.”

  Skeet turned. His eyes first spied the point of a sword mere inches from his neck. Then he stared up the long blade to a hand gloved in black. Wearing the glove was a large man cloaked in black, the hood back to reveal a pale face beneath short, dark hair.

  “Hello,” the man said.

  “Hello.”

  “It seems you were looking to set up an ambush,” the man said.

  “Actually, I was looking to make some money,” Skeet responded.

  The man in black smiled a grin that sent shivers down Skeet’s back and into his legs. For a second the smaller man thought he would lose control of his bladder.

  “Call out to your friend,” the man in black said. “Tell him to drop his weapons and to walk into the middle of the road where I can see him plainly.”

  Skeet remained silent. The three riders were not likely to turn him and Benny over to local constables, but that was only because they were wanted themselves. Skeet did fear, however, that the three might decide to kill him and Benny. His big partner’s strength and weapons would be all that could save them if that should happen.

  Skeet felt the cold of the sword against his throat once more.

  “Or I can kill you now,” the man in black said.

  Skeet opened his mouth to speak, but Benny interrupted.

  The large man had finally seen his friend’s predicament and was none too happy about it. Benny galloped across the brick road with his axe swinging over his head.

  “Let him go! Let him go!” the giant of a man yelled as he ran.

  The man in black stepped in close behind Skeet and slid the edge of his sword so it was just beneath Skeet’s chin. “Tell him to stop or you’re the first to die.”

  “Benny!” Skeet yelled. “Stop it now or they’ll kill me.”

  The big blonde man came to a halt in front of his friend, his axe still held high for a killing blow against the man holding the sword.

  “You’re smart,” the man in black said behind Skeet. “If you stay that way, you’re likely to see another sunrise.”

  “What are you going to do, Kron?” the man in white said from atop his horse. “Kill both of them?”

  The man in black looked to his companions. They had stopped their steeds not too distant and appeared to be waiting for their fellow traveler to finish with his current situation. Now that they were nearer, Skeet could tell the man in white and the woman were much younger than he expected, barely in their twenties from the looks of them. />
  “That would be the safe thing to do,” the man in black, Kron Darkbow, said to the man in white.

  “We can’t kill everyone we meet on the road,” the man in white said.

  “We can if they’re working for Fortisquo,” Kron said.

  Skeet’s eyes flashed to Benny, but his friend was slow to recognize the name that had been mentioned.

  “How do we know they work for Fortisquo?” the woman, Adara Corvus, asked.

  Kron leaned in so close to Skeet the smaller man could feel the man in black’s breath on his neck. “Do you work for Fortisquo?” Kron asked.

  Skeet shook his head. “No,” was all he said.

  “Then you’re highway bandits,” Kron said, “and not very good highway bandits. We should kill you just for trying to rob us.”

  “We wasn’t tryin’ to rob you,” Benny said.

  “Shut up, Benny,” Skeet said.

  Kron glared at the big man with the big axe. “No, go ahead, Benny,” he said. “Tell us what you were trying to do.”

  “We was tryin’ to kill you to collect the reward,” Benny said.

  Kron’s eyes flashed to those of his traveling companions.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Skeet began. “We were only—”

  The pommel of Kron’s sword thunked against Skeet’s skull, sending the smaller man reeling to the ground.

  Benny saw his chance and lifted his axe higher, ready to send Kron Darkbow to his death.

  “Sleep,” the man in white said from his horse.

  Benny blinked. His huge axe slipped from his hands and crashed into the ground behind him. The big man took one step toward Kron, then he too plummeted. Soft snoring noises were all that told Benny was still among the living.

  “You were saying,” Kron said as the toe of his left boot turned Skeet over and held him to the ground.

  The little man winced and rubbed at the bleeding wound on the back of his head. “You didn’t have to hit me so hard,” he said.

  “You were about to lie,” Kron said. “I can’t tolerate lying.”

  Adara interrupted. “Your friend said something about a reward.”

  “A pair of riders came through Holderby’s Landing yesterday,” Skeet said. He saw no more reason to lie. Telling the truth might be all that would save his life. “They were spreading word that Belgad the Liar would pay big money to the man who could capture the fellow in white robes and kill the other two.”

  “Belgad the Liar is dead,” Kron said.

  “I don’t know nothing about that,” Skeet said.

  “I didn’t think Fotisquo would send out riders looking for us,” the robed youth said.

  “Of course he would, Randall,” Kron said. “Every piece of scum within fifty miles of Bond probably knows about us by now.”

  “We know we’re wanted, but what can we do about it?” Adara said, then turned her attention to Skeet and Benny. “And what do we do about these two?”

  Kron lifted his sword. “We kill them. We have no choice.”

  “We’re not going to kill them,” Randall Tendbones said. “I’m a healer. I don’t kill unless necessary.”

  “They’ll tell others what direction we’ve gone,” Kron said.

  “Belgad will find out soon enough, if he’s truly alive,” Randall said. “If we’re going to kill everyone who crosses our path, then we’re no better than Belgad or Verkain.”

  “We are a split party, then,” Kron said. He turned to Adara. “You make the final vote. Decide.”

  The woman eyed Skeet and the unconscious Benny with distaste. If Skeet had had a gold coin to wager, he would have bet the woman would decide to have him and Benny slain.

  Skeet was wrong.

  “Allow them their lives,” Adara said. “They’ve caused no harm this day, and have actually supplied us with the knowledge we are being hunted.”

  Kron frowned and sheathed his sword. “Leave your weapons and take your big friend,” he said to Skeet.

  “I can’t carry that big lummox,” Skeet said pointing at Benny. “Do you see the size of him?”

  “True enough,” Kron said. “Fetch your horses and I’ll help you load him on one of them.”

  Skeet turned to do as he was told.

  “And one other thing,” Kron said, halting Skeet in his tracks. “Do anything stupid, and I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll not easily forget.”

  Skeet gulped. “Yes, sir.” With that he was gone.

  Ten minutes later, Benny was strapped onto his saddle. Skeet sat next to the sleeping brute on his own horse.

  “If I see you again, I’m just going to draw my sword and attack,” Kron said. “I’ll figure you’ve sold us out at that point.”

  “I’m not going anywhere near Bond,” Skeet said.

  “If he lives, Belgad will leave the city eventually,” Kron said. “He’ll come out for us himself.”

  “You must have done something pretty bad to have Belgad the Liar on your tails,” Skeet said.

  “You don’t know anything of it,” Adara said from her saddle. “It’s best you keep it that way.”

  “Go. Now,” Kron ordered.

  Without further words, Skeet turned his riding beast away from the three others and led his friend away. Only after he had trotted along for a hundred yards or so did he dare to look back. The three were gone. Skeet guessed he would likely never see them again. He was glad of it.

  ***

  Two days after leaving the city of Bond, the three riders found themselves hungry on a road of worn brick that traveled east on the north shore of the Ursian River. They were not starving, having brought along some rolls and meat strips, but they were nearly out of food and little game wandered near the main road.

  The three rode abreast, Randall in the center with Adara to his right and Kron to his left. They had seen little traffic in their travels, but that was not unusual during the hottest months; merchants often preferred the cooler springs and autumns.

  At night, bedding down with saddles for pillows and horse blankets, they took turns watching their encampment.

  Fortunately, Kron was a skilled woodsman and could make a fire without flint and steel and was adept at telling what foliage and berries they could subsist upon. Randall’s magical skills came in handy on occasion, healing the typical bruises and soreness caused by long periods in the saddle. Adara proved handy with the horses, having spent much time as a young girl riding the animals; Kron tried to teach her his forestry skills, but she would remind him she was with him to learn about the sword and not about plants.

  “Speaking of which, when is my first lesson?” Adara asked the man in black while they stood near the river, watching their horses sip from the river that rushed by near their feet.

  “Those two road bandits weren’t enough for you?” Kron asked.

  “There was no combat,” Adara said. “It was simply an ambush which you turned against them.”

  “Let that be your first lesson,” Kron said. “Be ever watchful, and use your opponent’s tactics against them when possible.”

  “You promised you would teach me,” Adara said.

  Kron was quiet in thought for a moment, then said, “Why do you believe I defeated Fortisquo during my three engagements against him?”

  Adara looked surprised. She had to think for a moment about the three combats that had included Kron and her former fencing teacher Fortisquo. “The first fight, the one on the roof, was mostly luck on your part,” Adara said. “You were unfamiliar to us, and you used that and the darkness as weapons. Your exceptional athletic ability also helped.”

  Adara paused long enough to see if Kron would say anything, but he only nodded for her to continue.

  “The second fight I would not say you won,” Adara said. “You appeared clumsy, or wounded, and Fortisquo would have had you if I had not stepped in.”

  Again Kron said nothing.

  “The third combat wasn’t much of a fight. I believe I was Fortisqu
o’s main target, but you disarmed him with your throwing darts before he could stab me,” Adara said.

  “You are right in all accounts, including that you saved me during the second fight,” Kron said, “but you are missing one important detail, especially about that second fight. Not considering my injury, why was it that Fortisquo almost kill me that night?”

  Adara had to think again. She went over that particular combat situation in her mind several times. She was a trained fighter already, and better than many who wore a sword, but she wasn’t sure what answer Kron wanted her to give.

  “Fortisquo surprised you in the doorway of the tavern,” she finally said.

  “Yes and no,” Kron said. “He did indeed surprise me, but what was different about that confrontation?”

  Adara was getting tired of the questions. She realized Kron was trying to make her think for herself, but did any of this help her become a better sword fighter?

  “He was in close proximity to me,” Kron finally said answering his own question.

  Adara felt like slapping herself. The answer had been so obvious she had looked over it.

  “Keep your enemy at a distance as long as possible, especially if he has a long reach and is possibly more powerful than you,” Kron said. “Hit him with everything you have from a distance, because once he is close with you he will hit you with everything he has. Weaken your foe before he gets to you.”

  Adara squeezed the pommel of the rapier on her left hip. “How will that help me to stay alive?” she asked. “I already understand about the reach of an opponent, but I only carry a rapier and a main gauche. I don’t carry a bow or a spear or throwing knives and I don’t want to.”

  “Then eventually you will be defeated,” Kron said, “which is likely to happen sooner or later anyway as you age and lose your natural ability.”

  “That sounds cheery,” Adara said. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

  “I’m telling you to get a ranged weapon!” Kron nearly yelled. “It will keep you alive.”

  Adara was stunned by his outburst. She took a step back and glared at the man.