Read Dark King Of The North (Book 3) Online

Authors: Ty Johnston

Dark King Of The North (Book 3) (33 page)

BOOK: Dark King Of The North (Book 3)

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Kron’s gaze turned serious, as did his voice. “Before we enter town, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Randall nodded for his friend to proceed.

“If you are ... if you are the Ashal reborn ... why are you hiding in Bond?”.

“I am not hiding. This is the life I have chosen.”

Kron appeared confused. “Why not spread word of your powers? Surely there are millions you could potentially save?”

Randall’s gaze returned to the city ahead. “I’ve given that much thought during our travels,” he said, “but it comes down to a matter of practicality. My magic has grown greatly, but even I have limits. If word spread of what I am ...
who
I am ... I would be deluged with the sick and wounded, the dead and dying.”

“You fear it would be too much for you?” Kron asked.

“I don’t believe other men could control themselves,” Randall explained. “It would start small, with men shoving aside others to get to me, but eventually it would lead to kings and pontiffs and wars. That I could not tolerate. And despite what many might believe, I am no god. Simply a wizard.”

“A very powerful wizard.”

“Yes.”

“I understand,” Kron said.

“It will be better for me, and the world, if I live a small life,” Randall said. “And I can still do much good.”

Kron patted his friend on the back. “You will.”

The man in black began to walk down the hill to their steeds. Soon he had the animals by their leads. He climbed onto the back of his beast as Randall approached.

“I can likely find room for you at the tower if none of your plans follow through,” Randall offered as they trotted toward open road.

“You never know,” Kron said, glancing back at the weighted bags jingling behind him, “I might purchase some property, find decent employment and settle down.”

Randall chuckled. “I find that hard to imagine.”

***

Sergeant Gris shifted his sword to one side and settled his bulky frame onto a stool while staring across the stained wooden top of the bar. “Ale,” he said to the tavern keeper.

The Rusty Scabbard’s bartender nodded and drifted away to tap a keg for the sergeant of the city watch.

Gris spun slowly on the three-legged chair and surveyed the dining room behind him. He had always liked the Scabbard. The place wasn’t so nice a man off the street couldn’t come in for a drink, but it was no dive. He and his men made sure of that.

He smiled as old memories drifted back. Gris had spent more than one night at the Scabbard after his daily duties had been completed. On a rare occasion he had even been called to the tavern to bust up a fight.

The bartender placed a leather jack on the bar. “Here you go, sir.”

Gris slipped a hand into the satchel tied to his belt and pulled out a copper coin.

“I’ll be paying for that,” a voice said to one side.

Gris twisted on the stool to see the speaker.

“By Ashal, Lucius Tallerus.”

Kron dropped a silver coin on the counter before the bartender. “Bring my friend another, and myself a glass of red wine.”

Gris looked his old friend up and down. Kron looked well, stocky and strong in his ebony garb. A big, black sword and a new bow resided on the man’s back, as it often had in Gris’s experience.

“You look good,” Kron said. “No longer in the guard?”

Gris glanced down at his simple leather armor and the sword on his hip and laughed. “Off duty. I leave the chain and tabard at home when drinking.”

The barkeep placed another mug and a glass of wine before them.

Gris lifted his drink toward his friend. “To seeing you again, Lucius.” He raised the ale to his lips.

“The name is Kron Darkbow,” the man in black reminded, sipping his own drink.

Gris finished off the first mug and grinned. “Still with that, are you?”

“Lucius Tallerus is a man of the past,” Kron said. “He is no longer necessary.”

The sergeant’s smile vanished. “Very well,
Kron
, tell me why I have the pleasure of your company this night.”

“There is the matter of a possible warrant for my arrest.”

Gris’s smile returned as he reached for the next mug. “Quashed it,” he said. “Was easy, especially after Belgad had hired Percifidus to work me over. Torturing a city official is not a good way to get the law on your side.”

“Then I am a free man?”

“As free as any other in West Ursia.” Gris gulped down some ale.

“Good,” Kron said.

“What are you up to now?” Gris asked. “All I’ve heard is Belgad won’t be returning to town. What did you do? Disable the man?”

“We came to terms,” Kron said. “As for my future, I have had plenty of time to make plans ... but for now I am seeking something to keep me busy for a little while.”

“The last time I heard similar words a street war nearly erupted.”

“Hopefully not this time. I’m planning on purchasing land, settling down.”

“That is hard to believe,” Gris said.

“You are the second person to utter similar words today.”

The sergeant took another swig of ale. “If you’re serious, I know a decent piece of property, and it’s cheap.”

“Where?”

“The Asylum,” Gris answered.

***

Stilp was a simple man, and he liked it that way. He had no dreams of rising above his station, of someday being as rich and powerful as his former employer, Belgad the Liar, nor his current employer, Lalo the Finder. All Stilp wanted out of life was a bit of coin, a few drinks and the occasional touch of a woman. Of course he didn’t mind a bit of adventure to achieve what he wanted. Sometimes he even had to be a bit harsh.

Like tonight.

He swung the club, connecting with the other fellow’s jaw and sending him sprawling into the dusty alleyway behind the Royal Bear tavern.

“That’s for not paying your debts.” The moon above made Stilp’s teeth stand out in the dark alley.

The much smaller man on the ground just lay there, blood spurting from between his lips as his dazed eyes rolled around in his head.

Stilp shifted to stand over the man, his brown cloak twirling around him as he raised the cudgel once more. “This one’s for nicking off with my best girl the other night.”

The club came down.

A gloved hand sprang from the darkness, yanking the oak branch from Stilp’s hands.

“What in hell?” the brigand said as he glanced up.

A familiar set of dark blue eyes gazed back at him, hints of moonlight revealing the edges of a tall, muscular figure cloaked in black.

“You!”

“Yes, me.” Kron lifted the club high, threatening. “And I see you’ve not changed your ways.”

Stilp took a step back and pointed to the groaning man at his feet. “He’s just had the wind knocked out of him. I’m sure he’ll be up and running by morning.”

“I’m sure he will, once I’ve taken him to a healing tower.” Kron advanced with the club still in his hand.

Stilp backed further. “Look, I don’t work for Belgad no more.”

“I know,” Kron said, “but I’ve heard you work for the Finder.”

Stilp gulped.

“A new master, but the same game,” Kron went on. “You might have to suffer the same consequences as before.”

Stilp dropped to his knees and held his hands up as if in prayer. “Please, please don’t kill me! I’m not even forty yet. I’m too young to die!”

Kron chuckled, a deep laugh that reverberated down the lengths of the alley. “Maybe I should keep you alive. There
is
something you can do for me. I’ve heard your new master recently acquired a piece of property and he’s looking to sell for a profit.”

Stilp blinked.

“The Asylum,” Kron said. “I want it. Tell Lalo to name his price.”

Stilp blinked again. “That’s all?”

“Not quite.” Kron flung the club as far as his strong arm would allow, the piece of wood disappearing down the alley with a distant crashing noise.

The man in black leaned over the kneeling sniveler. “If you do not change your ways, you will have to deal with me again.” The menace in his voice ran deep.

Stilp cringed.

Kron spun away, pausing to heft Stilp’s victim onto a shoulder.

With the trace amount of courage still possessed by him, Stilp slowly stood. “How do I find you if Lalo wants to sell?”

Kron did not bother to look back. “You don’t find me. I find you. And he
will
sell.”

Then the man in black and his unconscious package were gone into the shadows.

Stilp sniffled and sat back on his heels. “Damn. Darkbow.”

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