Road To Wrath (Book 2)

by Ty Johnston

  With nothing else to say, Randall climbed onto his horse with sadness written on his face.

  “Good traveling to you,” Markwood said to the healer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak with Master Darkbow in private for a few moments.”

  Randall glanced at Kron, who only motioned for the young man to ride on.

  Once Randall trotted off to join Adara ahead of them, Kron turned to the wizard but remained silent.

  “I wanted you alone to give you a warning,” Markwood said with a frown.

  “I know the dangers before us,” Kron said.

  “No, you misunderstand” the old wizard said, “I’m warning you about me. If that boy comes to a wicked end, I will be down on you for it. While I feel it is time he dealt with his heritage, it was you who put him up to this nonsense of traveling to Kobalos to confront his father.”

  “I only showed him the truth,” Kron said. “If he keeps running, sooner or later he will be caught.”

  “Regardless, I am holding you responsible for his well being,” Markwood said. “I don’t know you other than the rumors I hear, but I know a man who seeks out trouble when I see him. You, sir, are a seeker of trouble. Do not let it fall upon poor Randall’s head. He has had a hard enough life without the further burden of having to clean up any messes you create.”

  Kron chuckled. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to help.”

  “I have noticed,” Markwood said, “but that doesn’t mean I trust you. I don’t think you’ll turn the boy over to Verkain, but I’m not convinced you will keep him out of harm’s way. Just know you will have me to answer to if anything should happen to him.”

  “I understand,” Kron said.

  “Also, while I don’t trust you, I acknowledge your experience and leadership,” Markwood went on. “Randall is a babe in the woods, and Adara has been pampered far too long. They don’t realize the extent of the danger before them. I’m guessing you do.”

  Kron nodded silently.

  “Belgad has filed charges against you with magistrates in Bond,” the wizard said. “The rightful authorities now have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “On what charges?” Kron asked.

  “For everything,” Markwood answered. “For the burning of his ships, the destruction of the Asylum, even for murdering Percifidus.”

  “Most of those charges wouldn’t stand,” Kron said. “The Asylum was an accident, and Percifidus was engaged in a crime when I killed him. I would think Gris could file some charges of his own.”

  “He will once things have settled a bit in Bond,” Markwood said. “I’m helping him as much as I can. But, for the time being, every magistrate and militia group between here and the borders will be keeping an eye our for you. Never forget Belgad is a knight; he has a great bit of pull when he wants it.”

  “I must say I’m surprised the man came after us personally.”

  “He came after you personally,” Markwood said. “Randall and Adara are secondary prizes at best. You wounded his pride.”

  “I challenged him,” Kron said. “My guess would be no one has dared that in years.”

  The old wizard stared around the man in black and his horse to spot Randall and Adara waiting. “You should go,” Markwood said. “Just remember to keep a good watch.”

  Kron nodded to the wizard again.

  “May Ashal be with you,” Markwood said.

  “And with you,” Kron said and spun his animal away.

  Chapter Two

  Holderby’s Landing was little more than three structures of timbered walls and thatched roofs. The largest of the buildings was an inn, tavern and goods store all under one roof. The smallest building was next to the river and a wooden wharf that had a barge large enough to hold several horses. The other structure stood apart, slightly to the east of the village, and smoke brewed from its chimney. There were few villagers visible. A rough-looking older man was busy tying the barge to the dock while a young man in a simple brown tunic wiped down several horses tied to a hitching post in front of the inn; a teen girl swept away dust from in front of the dwelling while a small boy covered in mud ran down to the river.

  Adara, Randall and Kron had not been riding a half hour after leaving Markwood before they arrived at the village, tying their steeds alongside others in front of the inn.

  “It’s so small,” Adara said as she moved toward the front door of the tavern.

  “It will provide what we need,” Kron said pulling a silver tankard from his saddlebags.

  Adara noticed the silver mug. “I’ve seen that before,” she said. “What are you going to do with it?”

  Kron paused at the inn’s door and turned to face the woman. “I’m going to trade it,” he said. “We have a long journey ahead and need to watch our resources.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe to sell that thing this close to the city?” Randall asked, reading the word “Belgad” etched onto the side of the mug.

  “The value will likely be higher here than it would farther away where Belgad’s reach is not felt,” Kron said. “Plus, I’ve been through here several times and the owner of this establishment buys and sells unusual goods.”

  Kron pushed open the door. Smoke rolled out through the opening to reveal darkness. The man in black stepped through without hesitation and the others followed.

  A half hour later, they exited the building, each of them carrying a bundle of goods. On Kron’s back slung a sword longer and heavier than the one he had taken from one of Belgad’s guards in Bond; clutched in his hands was a leather quiver loaded with arrows, a short bow and a burlap sack full of food goods. Adara also carried a rough-looking bag full of food as did Randall, who also sported a dagger and short sword on his belt.

  “Old Reevus has never let me down,” Kron said storing his new goods on his horse and strapping the bow in a leather scabbard on the animal’s side.

  “Come through here often?” Randall asked as he put away his own goods.

  “I did as a child,” Kron said.

  Adara was busy storing her new possessions in leather saddlebags on the back of her steed when Kron approached. “I didn’t see you picking up a ranged weapon,” he said to her.

  Adara rummaged through her saddlebags. “I chose a new weapon,” she said. “Something different.”

  Kron looked skeptical.

  The woman flashed a broad grin and removed an item that appeared to be made of leather straps from the saddle bag. Hanging from her fingers was a long strip of leather that tapered to a narrow end.

  “A whip?” Randall asked.

  Kron said nothing, only stared at the weapon in Adara’s hands.

  “It’s not heavy, it fits well coiled on my belt, and most important, it has a reach of more than ten feet,” the woman said with her grin growing wider.

  “It is not what I had in mind,” Kron said.

  “It’s the best you’re going to get,” Adara said. “I’m not lugging around some awkward bow and I’m not loading myself down with a bunch of throwing weapons. If I’m not fast and agile, I’m useless in a fight.”

  Kron stared at the whip in her hands, then shook his head and climbed into his saddle. “It will have to do.”

  “Thank you,” Adara said wrapping the whip into a loop and tying it on her right hip in front of her main gauche.

  Randall put a hand on his saddle horn when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see four men in chain shirts waving swords over their heads and riding toward them at full speed.

  “Oh hell,” the healer said.

  “Halt!” one of the men hollered.

  “Ride!” Kron yelled.

  Adara and Randall wasted no time pulling themselves into their saddles, but it would be too late. They knew the four men would wade into them before they could escape.

  Kron stood in his stirrups and lobbed a small gray ball over Randall’s head in the direction of the horsemen, striking one of the men in the chest. Bl
ack smoke sprang forth, spraying the area and blinding the four riders. One of the men fell to the ground while the others tried to keep control of their animals.

  “Now!” Kron yelled spinning his steed away from the others and spurring it to action.

  Seeing they had a momentary respite, Randall and Adara charged after their companion.

  The three continued riding fast until their horses were nearly spent. Seeing no pursuit, they steered their steeds to the side of the road.

  Adara climbed out of her saddle to allow her ride to rest. “How did they catch up with us so fast?” she asked.

  Kron stood in his stirrups again to look behind them. Seeing no sign of the four men, he said, “They rode all night.”

  “Or they used magic,” Randall added.

  “Where was Belgad?” Adara asked. “Could his new wizard have gotten them here so fast?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” a voice said from the woods.

  A section of the forest’s trees shimmered like waves of heat, but quickly dissipated to reveal a woman with long, scarlet hair and brightly-painted lips. Wrapped around her was a long, purple gown with stars and moons of silver woven into it. Her fingers, outstretched toward the three, waved with jewel-encrusted rings on the digits.

  “Karitha?” Adara asked.

  A beam of gold light shot forth from the wizard’s fingers.

  Adara dropped to the ground as Randall jumped behind his horse.

  The wizard’s ray erupted over their heads in a glittering explosion that seemed harmless while Kron dove toward the red-haired woman.

  “Not today,” the wizard woman said and waved a hand in front of Darkbow’s face.

  Kron, suddenly blind, came to a halt.

  Sounds of quickening hoof beats neared and Randall dared a look toward the noise. “Oh hell.”

  The four men on horseback had cleared Kron’s smoke and were barreling down upon the three.

  “Randall, get on your horse!” Adara yelled. She was thankful to see the healer did what he was told without asking questions. “Ride as fast as you can!”

  Randall’s steed took off if an arrow had struck it’s rump.

  Kron stood still. For the first time in his life, he was thankful for the many hours his uncle Kuthius had trained him to fight without his sight. It was true he could not see, but his sense of hearing was attuned to his surroundings, telling him everything that was happening. The sound of heavy hooves striking the brick road said the four horsemen were nearing, but not within attack range. Harsh breathing and creaking leather told Kron that Adara was climbing onto her saddle. A rustling of silky cloth told him the female wizard was still in front of him but just out of range of his grasp.

  Kron yanked a dagger from his belt and slung the weapon out, in front of himself. He heard a yelp and the fumblings of the wizard as she tried to back further away into the surrounding foliage.

  “Kron! Take my hand!” Adara yelled from behind him.

  Kron spun and reached out blindly. He felt Adara’s fingers lock around his wrist and tug. He jumped forward hoping she was pulling him onto a horse and was quickly proven right.

  Adara grabbed the reigns of Kron’s animal and screamed at her own riding beast. Both horses sprang forward, carrying Kron and Adara away as fast as their tired legs could move.

  Belgad’s men did not give up the chase, their horse’s hooves shaking the ground and stirring up dust.

  “What happened to you?” Adara asked Kron.

  “She blinded me.”

  “Tricky witch,” Adara said.

  Kron turned his head so he could better hear how close were the four horsemen. “They’re right behind us,” he said.

  “What do you want me to do about it?” Adara asked.

  “Keep riding straight,” Kron said groping for his own horse flying along next to them.

  “What in the name of Ashal are you doing?” Adara yelled.

  Kron acted before she could stop him. He brought up one booted foot onto the rump of Adara’s horse and shoved off, launching himself through air onto the back of his own beast. He landed across the saddle and managed to grab the bags on the animal’s rump to steady himself.

  “Have you gone crazy?” Adara yelled at Kron’s rear.

  Kron ignored Adara’s yellings as he pulled him self to a sitting position. He reached behind himself to ransack through his saddle bags.

  “What are you doing?” Adara yelled, watching Kron while keeping an eye on their nearing enemies.

  “Keep straight!” Kron yelled, his gloved hands working in his saddle bags.

  Adara focused forward and tried her best to keep the two horses running along the center of the road that continued to unfold before them. Watching the back of Randall’s steed, she suddenly spied a bend in the road ahead.

  “We’re running out of space!” Adara yelled over the din of hoof beats right behind them.

  “Got them!” Kron pulled a handful of small items from his bags and scattered them.

  The objects flying through the air looked like children’s jacks.

  Belgad’s four riders tried to pull up their horses, but they were going too fast. Kron’s caltrops tumbled along the ground until the four horses clomped on them. Three of the animals suddenly jerked back, sending their riders smashing to the ground. One horse avoided the spikes altogether, but the rider reigned in the beast.

  Kron smiled as he heard the screams of the horsemen drift further away. “Like I said, distance.”

  The female sword fighter slowed their horses slightly to allow them to breath, but kept pushing the animals on behind Randall.

  “You’re full of surprises,” she said.

  “Always keep your foes guessing,” Kron said. “Let the unknown work for you.”

  ***

  It was an hour before Kron allowed them to stop, and then he had Adara lead them a hundred yards off the main road and below trees with heavy shadows.

  “You’re very lucky,” Randall said as he knelt over Kron sitting on a tree stump.

  “He’s blind. What’s lucky about that?” Adara said as she made sure their horses were tied to a tree.

  “It was a spell she cast and not some kind of poison,” Randall said using his fingers to pry back Kron’s eyelids to stare at the cloudy orbs. “I can heal the blindness with a few minutes preparation, or it might wear off on its own.”

  “Heal me now,” Kron said.

  Randall moved away from the man wearing black. “I thought you’d say that,” he said, opening saddle bags. “I just need some dandelion stems, then I’ll have you as good as before.”

  Adara picked up twigs and dry grass from the ground and began building a pyramid of kindling for a fire. “Are we going to be here long?” she asked.

  “What say you, healer?” Kron asked.

  Randall removed several small glass vials from within his saddle bags and stared into them. “I can have your eyesight back in a quarter of an hour,” he said, “but you’re likely to have some blurriness for a couple of hours. I’d suggest an early lunch to let your eyes recover.”

  “Two hours, then,” Kron said.

  Adara took two small pieces of flint from inside a belt pocket and began to strike them together against the dry grass in her pyramid of tinder. In less than a minute she had a small fire going.

  Kron listened to the crackling grass. “You learn quickly.”

  “I’ve been watching you,” she said in return. “I might as well pick up a few other skills while we’re on the road, though I was never much for camping. Bad room service and a stiff mattress are about as close to living outdoors as I usually suffer.”

  Kron allowed a sly grin as Randall dumped several bottles of herbs into it a wood bowl.

  “It was close back there,” Adara said.

  “Yes, it was. They must have ridden through the night to catch up with us that fast,” Kron said, “and Karitha is conniving, though she’s inexperienced at combat.”

 
“What makes you say that?” Randall asked pouring water from a goatskin into the bowl.

  “She allowed herself to be too close to us,” Kron said.

  “Distance,” Adara said.

  “Yes, distance. You’re learning all the time,” Kron said.

  “What was that golden from her fingers?” Adara asked Randall.

  The healer used a finger to stir the herbs in the water, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably some kind of magical lightning.”

  “That seems like powerful magic,” Adara said.

  “Not the most powerful,” Randall said still stirring.

  “What is the most powerful?” Adara asked.

  “Low magic,” Randall said sitting next to Kron and holding out the bowl in front of the blind man. “Here, Kron, sip this.”

  One of Kron’s hands fumbled in the air for a moment before finding the bowl, then he raised it to his lips.

  “What’s low magic?” Adara asked.

  “There are basically two types of magic,” Randall explained watching Kron’s eyes. “Almost all wizards use what’s called high magic, which doesn’t mean it’s only for good purposes, as most people believe. High magic can do whatever a wizard wants, within the limits of their imagination and strength of will.”

  “Then why do wizards chants words while casting spells, or wiggle their fingers in the air?” Adara asked.

  “Those are focusing tools,” Randall said. “It helps a mage to remember how to cast a spell by having words or movements memorized.”

  “What’s different about low magic?” Adara asked.

  “High magic uses a wizard’s own inner strength, what some call the soul, to cast spells. It’s why I get tired after healing,” Randall said. “Low magic is very rare, and it uses the souls of others, sometimes even killing people if it’s a particularly powerful spell.”

  “Like what happened at the Asylum,” Kron interjected.

  Randall frowned with a hurt look.

  Adara had heard the Asylum and cemetery story from Kron and Randall during their first day of travel, and she could tell it bothered both men. Randall seemed to feel guilty over those who had died through the use of his magic ring at the Asylum. Kron was like a stone emotionally, but he seemed upset about the death of that boy, Wyck, when the war demons had appeared in Bond.