The Sword Of Bayne Omnibus

by Ty Johnston

  “I know I'm right,” Bayne said. “I'm a murderer, a slayer of men and women, of your fellow priests. I spread war and death wherever I tread. To an extent, it fills my heart with joy to do so. I do love to watch the foolish suffer, and to see their demise. The fewer in the world the better, as far as I'm concerned. But that is only a part of me. The other part wishes to see justice done, and I fear I cannot do that in this world at this time.”

  “So you will sleep?”

  “I will.”

  Pedrague allowed a thin smile. “Then allow me to prepare.”

  The priest waved his hands in the air and whispered ancient words.

  Before Bayne's eyes, the room went dim for several seconds. When he could see clear once more, the chamber had changed. The circle of candles was burning once more and in place of the fire behind Pedrague there was now a stone couch that appeared to grow out of the very ground. Upon this couch was a silk scarlet cloth and at the far end a similarly-colored padded pillow.

  Bayne stepped around his friend and nodded to the raised stone. “Is this to be my resting place?”

  “It is.”

  “It will be a good place, here in the quiet of the mountain,” Bayne said.

  “I hope so.”

  The warrior glanced toward the exit. “I had a thought to question Lerebus, but there seems little reason now. He gave the impression of knowing about my future, and now I have witnessed him in that future. It is obvious he comes from that time, or at least has visited it. His reasoning for being here was vague, but it would seem I will find my answers upon waking.”

  “I hope so,” Pedrague repeated.

  The warrior looked to his friend. “Will it seem as if much time has passed? Or will I lay down to sleep and wake in what will feel a matter of minutes?”

  “Honestly, I do not know,” Pedrague said. “Some men sleep restlessly while others drop off and wake in an instant. It should be similar to however you normally sleep.”

  Bayne nodded. “Very well, then. What do we do? How do I proceed?”

  “There is nothing for you to perform,” the priest said, pointing to the stone bed. “Recline upon the resting place and I will begin my ritual.”

  Bayne nodded again. Then he sat upon one side of the stone, sitting for a moment as if feeling the comfort of the cloth. He was propped at an angle, his heavy sword keeping him from sitting proper. He looked up over his right shoulder and pulled around his sword, sheath and all. He placed the large, heavy weapon upon the side of the bed opposite the side he sat.

  Then he lay back, his scarred head upon the pillow, and stared at the cold ceiling of the cave above.

  Pedrague walked around to one side of his reclining friend and stared at the ceiling himself. He closed his eyes, waved his hands once more and spoke aloud words that seemed harsh on his tongue.

  Then the mage-priest opened his eyes and stared down into the closed lids of the warrior. “I will miss you, Bayne kul Kanon. I wish this world had offered you better than what it had, and that you had become something else.”

  The swordsman lay unmoving. Even his chest did not rise and fall in the gentle repose of sleep. His face appeared as that of a child, free of all worries and concerns.

  Pedrague stared for a moment longer, then he turned and walked out of the cave and into the tunnel.

  Upon exiting the mountain and entering the sunlight, he found Lerebus waiting for him, the northern warrior leaning against his spear just outside the tunnel's entrance.

  “It is done?” Lerebus asked.

  “It is,” Pedrague said.

  The northerner nodded. “It is a good thing. At least it will purchase this world another two thousand years.”

  “Yes,” the priest said, adding a heavy sigh, “though I wish it had not come to this.”

  Lerebus shrugged. “It is the way of things. At least now I can be on my way.”

  Pedrague opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

  “What is it?” Lerebus asked, his visage questioning.

  Pedrague stammered, but then, “Lerebus, in your time, when Bayne is brought forth once more ... please, be careful.”

  The blonde-haired fighter grinned. “I plan to.”

  Pedrague grimaced.

  “What is to happen now?” Lerebus asked. “Do you still believe you can return me to my own time?”

  Pedrague nodded. “I do, though it will take a complicated ritual. If you will return with me to the church, I believe in a few days I can send you back to Verkanus.”

  Lerebus held up a hand. “He is known as Verkain in my day.”

  “Ah, yes, of course,” Pedrague said, correcting himself. “Whatever the evil one is called, I will send you to him. Then the two of you can ... do what needs done.”

  “Before we go,” Lerebus said, “I do have one concern.”

  “Which is?”

  “It's more of a question, really,” the northerner said. “Why are you doing this? You know I work for Verkain, yet you insisted upon helping me.”

  Pedrague nodded. “You are not a bad man, Lerebus Shieldbreaker. You proved that by coming to me and telling me the truth, though I could have found out on my own through my magic. You warned me of Bayne's return. Whatever your purposes in serving Verkain, I do not believe you do so for ill purposes.”

  “True enough.”

  “Are you read to leave?” the priest asked.

  “Whenever you are.”

  “Good,” Pedrague said, turning to face the entrance to the cave. “I have busy days ahead. The temple will be alarmed after recent events, and I will have many to console after the deaths there. One last task, and then we can be on our way.”

  The wizard-priest waved his hands in a circular motion in front of the tunnel and whispered a language forgotten long by men.

  The ground at the base of the opening cracked and shook slightly, then motes of dirt and dust began to build, to climb as if guided by an invisible hand. Chips of stone grew upon rock and grass and mud and twisted and bent and began to take a shape.

  In less time than a hundred heartbeats, before the two men stood a tall statue of a well-muscled figure, a gigantic stone sword at his side leaning against him. He had one hand raised to the heavens, the other hanging freely at his side. Despite being made of stone, he appeared quite lifelike, as if ready to step forward into action.

  “It looks like him,” Lerebus pointed out.

  “Yes,” Pedrague said, then snapped his fingers.

  At the foot of the statue appeared a bronze plaque, upon it engraved these words: “Beware, o brother, before entering and returning to the world that which is best to remain leashed.”

  The two men stood and eyed the mage's handiwork.

  “Do you think the warning will do any good?” Lerebus asked.

  “There is a spell bound within those words,” Pedrague said. “It will keep all from discovering this resting place.”

  “All but myself,” Lerebus said.

  Pedrague glanced to the other man. “Only because you are here now and thus know the location of the site. If not for that, Verkanus would never have found the cave.”

  Lerebus nodded. “Good enough.”

  “Very well.” Pedrague slapped his hands together as if dusting them off, as if completing a day's labor. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  The two looked to one another then strode forward along the path that lead down from the mountain.

  Soon after their passing, all that could be heard was the gentle whistling breeze that hung about the mountain and the soft brush of clouds against the highest of the peaks.

  Inside the cave, all light had died. The candles had burnt themselves to flittering soot upon the air and the outside light was too far distant to reach into the seeming crypt. Silence ruled there, as it would for thousands of years. No living creature entered, not even the wandering insects.

  Bayne himself lay still. To anyone who could have witnes
sed him, he would have appeared dead. He seemed to have no dreams, no restlessness, as if he slept the sleep of the innocent. Within his mind there was a state of vacuity where not even darkness nor quiet nor solitude intruded.

  There was nothing.

  Then there was existence.

  Final notes

  As you might guess, this is not the last we will see of Bayne kul Kanon. He will return, though it might be some time before he appears again in my writings. Bayne's story is part of a longer cycle, what I call my Ursian Chronicles, and he plays an important role in the end of that cycle.

  How many novels or stories will it take to conclude the Ursian Chronicles? To be honest, I don't know exactly. My guess would be about 40 novels, of which only six have been written as of this moment, three of them being The Sword of Bayne trilogy and the other three being The Kobalos Trilogy.

  There are many stories yet I wish to tell in the Ursian Chronicles, most of which will feature characters with whom my readers are already familiar. The likes of Bayne, Lerebus and Kron Darkbow will appear again. But there will also be many new characters. I hope you will stay along for the ride.

  About the author

  After having spent twenty years as a newspaper journalist, Ty Johnston decided it was time he became serious about his true passion, fiction writing. What you are reading is one of the results. A Kentucky native, Ty now spends his time traveling with his wonderful wife, their beagle and house rabbits. His main interests are writing and reading. If you know of a good book, please let him know by dropping by his blog at tyjohnston.blogspot.com or by e-mailing him at htjohnston@yahoo.com.