Trial and Glory (55 page)

“You could have gone to Hesh. Raker might be interested in taking on a partner.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind spending a night with a woman, but the last thing I want to do is run a bathhouse. Especially with him. You know how bad he is with money.”

“What about all those special assignments Elyse gave you? Didn’t she have you eliminate those trying to restart the Assassin’s Guild?”

“Yeah, that kept me busy for about a month. The others didn’t even last that long. I’ve been idle for nearly half a year.” He paused. “Look, I’m not trying to begrudge anyone for moving on with their lives. The Hell Patrol disbanding might be the best thing for everyone.”

“Just not you?”

“Not me.”

“So, this is just a chance to have another adventure?

No. This is to ease Elyse’s mind and make a kingdom safe for all the friends I’ve left behind. My family.

Kroke shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Liar.” Cassus grinned. “I think the truth is that you’ve gone soft.”

“What?”

Cassus chuckled. “Don’t worry. Who am I going to tell?” He paused. “So, how has the beginning of this adventure been? We left Lyrosene a week ago.”

Kroke sighed. “Kind of boring to be honest.”

“Why?”

He nodded to his mount. “He’s not much for conversation. I guess somewhere along the last dozen years or so, I got used to being around people.”

“More of a reason for me to come along then,” said Cassus as he went over to the fire, and stirred the stew. “It’s almost done, I think.”

“Why are you here, Cassus? I thought you were happy in Lyrosene, especially since the mighty Hero of Slaves helped open a rapport between Cadonia and the Byzernians.”

He smiled. “I was, but I wouldn’t have stayed that way. I would have been worried about you. And if I hadn’t left when I did, it’s likely I never would have found you.”

“So, your reason is not to make sure the scepter is destroyed in case I fail, but to watch my back? To keep me company?”

Cassus shrugged.

You and that heart of yours.

“You know it’s possible we won’t come back from this,” said Kroke.

“I know. But that’s no different than any other job we’ve had.”

Part of Kroke wanted to scream at Cassus for wanting to risk everything on his account. However, a larger part of him couldn’t turn down the companionship.

“Alright. Then you get first watch.”

“Sounds good.” He took the pot of stew off the fire. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starved.”

Kroke watched Cassus spoon portions of the stew into bowls near the fire. Cassus started telling a story as he did. It was one from the Hell Patrol’s past involving Hag and Jonrell, playfully bickering back and forth with each other over dinner. Kroke could have stopped him at any moment and finished the thing himself, having memorized every line long ago.

But what would be the point in that?

“. . . and then she lifted up her shirt, shaking those things like two sacks of potatoes. One Above, I thought Jonrell was going to lose his dinner from the sight.”

Their laughter echoed in the night.

Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a rating or review at the site of purchase as well as other places such as Goodreads and Librarything. Like many other indie authors, I do not have a marketing team working for me and a positive review (even if only a couple of sentences long) can go a long way in enticing others to give my works a try.

Trial and Glory is my last novel set in this world and with these characters, but that doesn’t mean I’m done writing. I have two separate fantasy series in the works with ideas for many more. If you’d like to know when these will be made available, please consider signing up for my mailing list. It is used solely to announce new releases or other major announcements.

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Thanks again for your support.

Joshua P. Simon

About the Author

Unlike most authors, Joshua did not immerse himself into the world of books as a child. After finishing graduate school, he quickly made up for lost time by buying and devouring countless graphic novels. Remembering his love of the original Conan movies, he moved on to the fantasy genre with the compilations of Robert E. Howard. He was hooked.

Since then, he has moved on to other authors such as Glen Cook, Joe Abercrombie, George R.R. Martin, Steven Erikson, Paul Kearney, Steven Brust, Peter V. Brett, Patrick Rothfuss and many more.

Joshua was inspired to write and create his own fantasy world after reading Glen Cook’s Black Company series. Thanks to a vivid imagination, he soon found himself with more ideas than he knew what to do with. After some prompting by his wife, he took the plunge.

When not writing, Joshua lives a life devoted to God and spends time with his beautiful family. He is employed as an accountant.

Excerpt of
Walk Through Fire - A Prequel Novella in the Blood and Tears Series

Prologue

Stepping off the ship and walking down the cluttered streets of Mudhole Bay had felt like entering a new world. Jonrell and his best friend, Cassus, tried to acclimate themselves to the rough way people behaved and the broken speech patterns of the grime-covered town. Yet, even after a change of clothes, they could not shake the mark of being outsiders.

Stares from the locals followed them wherever they looked for work.

Jonrell noticed Cassus nervously eyeing the passersby, his thick black hair bouncing with each swing of his head. “Wishing you would have stayed behind?” he asked.

“The thought had crossed my mind.” A fight broke out in the middle of the street and they skirted around the altercation. “High Mage Amcaro always told us the world was much different outside of Cadonia. I just never realized how different.”

“It’s not too late to turn back, you know?”

“Are you going back?”

Jonrell shook his head. “Not while my father lives.”

“Then neither am I.”

Jonrell pointed at a tavern up the street. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

They stumbled into The Orchid, assuming from the name it was a relatively reserved place. Within minutes after sitting at the bar, Jonrell learned that the worst of the worst frequented the bar—many taking issue with new arrivals.

Three men approached them and Jonrell knew there would be trouble. He tried to smooth things over by offering them drinks. But the men wanted more than a drink.

Jonrell looked them over and knew a fight could not be avoided. He jumped from his seat and went for the biggest man first, rocking his head back with a punch to the jaw. Cassus kicked another in the groin. The third got a shot in on Cassus, sending him to the ground. Jonrell took out the knee of the first man and then subdued the third with a boot to the gut.

Cassus rubbed his jaw as Jonrell helped him to his feet. He pushed back his long auburn hair, feeling pretty good about himself and proud of Cassus for taking some initiative. But any reprieve Jonrell hoped they had earned was dashed by the heavy sounds of thudding boots against the raised wooden floor.

Five men headed their way and four held drawn swords. The fifth was huge, older, and carried himself with a hardness that Jonrell had never seen before. The man needed no sword to be taken seriously. Right away Jonrell knew him as the leader of the group. Expecting more trouble, Cassus drew his own sword and took a step back. The others stopped and readied themselves.

Jonrell stood his ground, unmoving, as the leader raised a hand, signaling his men to stand down.

“Why haven’t you drawn your sword as well?” asked the big man.

“You have the look of a man who’s interested in talking, not killing.” Jonrell noticed the attire of the five standing before him matched the three who groaned on the floor.
Blood red.

The big man grinned wide and nodded. “Why don’t you tell your friend to put away his weapon so we can talk?”

“Only after your men do the same,” said Cassus over Jonrell’s shoulder.

The leader shrugged and gave the command to his men. Even with weapons put away, the tension lingered in the air. Jonrell and the leader stared unwavering into each other’s eyes, neither willing to break away first. The man smiled again as if Jonrell had passed some test. He extended his hand. “My name is Ronav. You took out three of my men.”

Jonrell hesitated then extended his own. “We weren’t looking for a fight, but they wouldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Ronav laughed. “I bet they didn’t. Few of my men would.”

Jonrell didn’t know what to say to that.

“New to Slum Isle then?”

Jonrell nodded. “Looking for work. We thought we’d try Mudhole Bay first.”

“Then you’re in luck,” said Ronav, grinning wider. “I’ve got a proposition for you two.”

Chapter 1

…Two years later.

Jonrell, like any other soldier, hated to wait. As a captain in the mercenary Hell Patrol, he filled the time between assignments by drilling his men and pitching in where needed. Even in an encampment of thousands, time seemed to slow as soldiers crept into their routines.

Messengers rode out days ago with terms to offer the other side. When the riders returned, Jonrell expected his next set of orders. He knew he should be thankful for the break since at any moment, everything could change, but the sitting around made him restless. He rose to his feet, stretching the stiffness from his limbs.

“You’re leaving now? I’m just about to start up a game of dice.”

“Then you should be happy I’m leaving. That’s one less person to take your money.”

Raker scowled and spat. He wiped the tobacco juices from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was ready to give you some company but after that, I’ve changed my mind.”

“When have you ever passed up a chance to cheat someone out of their pay?”

Raker shook his head. “Go on and get out of here. The last thing I need is your sour mood affecting my luck.”

Jonrell left the army’s encampment in the hot afternoon and within minutes headed into the ruins of an ancient city, its name long forgotten.
Another victim of the great earthquake
, he thought.

Battered walls crumbled as weeds pushed through the cracks and mortar. Gaping holes in the earth had split some buildings in two, while trees sprouted through the collapsed roofs of others. Coming across several dry wells Jonrell imagined the citizens of the land suffering through the aftermath of such a disaster, betrayed by the man sworn to protect them.

He shook his head thinking about what it must have been like during those dark times that still lingered even now.
“The worst trials of our lives will be what define us. A man must not forget himself or his ideals, lest he become a husk of who he once was.”

Another of High Mage Amcaro’s words of wisdom Jonrell learned long ago.
Why did Aurnon the Second turn his back on his people? He should have embraced them.

Jonrell brooded. He weaved between the broken buildings and cluttered alleys of a distant past, wondering if the lost souls of the ancient civilization questioned their decisions as he so often did.

Am I an empty husk of the man I once was?

Hours passed as the evening’s red sky turned a leaden gray. A warm breeze danced across the windswept city, brushing aside his long auburn hair.

I better head back to camp before dinner is gone.

He rounded the corner of a building when a high-pitched squeal followed by a slur of deep-throated curses stopped him. His hand went to the sword at his waist. Drawing the blade, he ran around the half-standing walls on his right to the sounds of debris falling and coarse yelling. He darted into a narrow alley.

Limbs flailed in a cloud of dust and a heap of wood. A soldier from Effren’s army, the Hell Patrol’s employer, climbed to his feet, howling a string of curses. Blood and spit sprayed from him as he searched around his feet. He pushed aside a plank that fell apart in his hands and snatched up a dirk. Jonrell edged through the mouth of the alley. He took in his surroundings and searched for what could have let out the screech.

“Where are you? I know you’re still here,” said the man.

“Cord, what’s going on?” whispered Jonrell when he was within a few feet of the man.

The man wheeled around with his blade. Jonrell caught his arm and pushed him backward. “One Above, what’s gotten into you?”

Cord staggered back, looking dumbfounded to see Jonrell. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “I thought you were that little devil.”

Jonrell cocked his head. “What?”

“Shhh,” said Cord, holding up his free hand, wild eyes darting around the alley.

A hint of movement caught Jonrell’s eye as a small figure hidden in shadow crept from a window opening. It dropped to the ground without a sound. Slowly, it inched away from the two men.

Cord whipped his head around at the movement, and ran toward the figure, dagger in hand. The blade missed as he slashed furiously at the shadows. Off balance, Cord fell into a wall, toppling several blocks and sending another storm of dust into the air.

The form tried to slip around Cord with another high-pitched screech as the soldier’s flailing limbs knocked it to the ground. A grin crawled across the soldier’s face as he eyed his prey, blade ready.

Now bathed in the light of a rising moon, Jonrell clearly saw the soldier’s opponent, and with several quick steps barreled into Cord as the man tried to rise.

“What in the name of the One Above is wrong with you? She’s just a child!” Jonrell took the girl by an arm as he regained his footing and backed away.

Cord scrambled to his feet, eyes narrowed with a determined focus. “Get away from her, Jonrell. That ain’t just some innocent little girl. She’s been scrounging around camp and stealing from me for over a week. When I caught her earlier, she bit me. Then I chased after her and she pushed a door on me and pelted me with rocks. The girl needs to be taught a lesson.”