“It’ll come. It may come in bursts like you just experienced or all at once, but it’ll come.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t for sure. But I’ve been around people who’ve lost their memory before. The fact that you experienced something like that is a good thing. You’re healing, and the rest of your mind seems unaffected. All of that works in your favor.”
Kaz muttered something and sulked away from Jonrell without responding. As he headed toward his horse, others in the group distanced themselves from the warrior.
“A pleasant fellow, isn’t he?” said Krytien as he pulled in next to Jonrell.
“Put yourself in his spot. You find yourself in a strange land, where everyone looks different, and you have no idea where you are or even who you are. I’d imagine you’d be frightened.”
“Frightened isn’t what I’d call his behavior. And I would like to think that if I were in a similar situation, I would be a little more courteous to those who had taken me in and tried to help me. The only person he speaks with besides you is Hag. One Above knows why.”
“Probably because we’re the only two who haven’t treated him like he’s got the plague.”
“I haven’t treated him like that.”
“True. But he’s got that hang up about sorcery.”
“And that’s my fault?” said Krytien. “I thought he might’ve bonded with Wiqua since they resemble each other a bit. But the second Kaz learned Wiqua was a healer through sorcery, that was it. It’s too bad. I was hoping some of the old man’s disposition would have rubbed off on him.
“It still doesn’t explain everyone else’s attitude toward him. I know his skin is darker than even the Byzernians but beneath that he’s still a man.”
“It’s hard for people to get past their prejudices, Jonrell. Kaz can’t get past his with sorcery, why should the men be any different?” He paused. “However, I think some would come around if he just carried himself differently. The men can see that even someone as strong as Glacar or as cold blooded as Kroke would be hard pressed if they went up against him.”
Jonrell nodded. “The thought has crossed my mind. Makes me glad I sent them with the other group on the north side of the island. It’ll buy me a couple of weeks.”
“They’ll have to meet him eventually.”
“Yeah, but I’m hoping things will improve by then.”
“You know, you’re really taking a gamble for one man that we know absolutely nothing about. He could be playing up the memory loss thing for all we know.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true. And how would hiding his past make him any different than most of us? We all ran away from something when we joined up.” He paused. “In fact, I know very little about your life before the Hell Patrol.”
“Well, ah…” said Krytien.
Jonrell put a hand up. “Stop. I’m not asking you to tell me your reasons. It isn’t my place to pry. And that’s the same way we should be with Kaz. I’ve got a good feeling about him, and I need you to back me on this. I’ll keep talking to him.”
“I trust you. I always have. Just answer me one thing about that good feeling of yours,” said Krytien cocking his head to one side. “Does it relate to the man he was or the man he is now?”
Jonrell shook his head. “I could care less about the man he was. I’m only concerned with the man he is now and, more importantly, with the man he’ll become.”
* * *
The group picked their way along the patchy terrain, avoiding the fallen limbs and rotted out trees that littered the faded road. On either side of the winding path lay tumbled stone and briars. The occasional body, stripped and left to the worms added to the somber tone of the journey.
“Here’s another one,” said Rygar up ahead, pointing out a corpse littered with arrows.
“Aye,” said Raker coming up from behind. “I smelled this one long before I saw him.” He paused. “I know it’s been awhile since we’ve been to Slum Isle, but I don’t remember the countryside being so much worse than the ports.”
Jonrell pulled up alongside the two mercenaries and looked down at the remains with a frown. “A lot can happen in a couple years. He’s about a week old, I’d imagine.” He stared down the road with squinted eyes.
“What do you see?” asked Rygar.
“Nothing right now. Ride on ahead a little and come back if you see three boulders stacked on top of each other,” said Jonrell.
“Yes, sir. Three boulders,” said Rygar. It was an odd request but the young recruit didn’t ask for clarification.
Just like Yanasi, loyal and trusting. I see why they get along so well. Too bad I had to send her with Kroke.
“What’s this about three boulders?” asked Raker.
“It’s supposed to be a landmark to show us where to venture off into the woods,” said Jonrell as he watched Rygar speed off.
“And why would we want to do that?” asked Raker, biting off a piece of chew.
“We’re going to the Hideaway,” said Jonrell.
“What are we doing bothering with that?”
Jonrell shook his head in disgust as he watched the mercenary wipe his dirty hands on his horse’s mane. “To recruit. It’s obvious we aren’t going to find any takers along the road. Everyone’s long since abandoned their land.”
“And how did you find out about these three boulders?”
“Freeman’s City. While you guys were drinking each other under a table, harassing the whores and picking fights, I was doing research.” Jonrell gestured back to the rotting figure. “From what I hear, the Hideaway is responsible for all this killing. They’re not too fond of any bandits looking to set up near the land they’ve staked out.”
Raker shook his head. “Our one night off in months and the one chance we had to let loose and you worked. Talk about a shame,” he said, leaning over and spitting on the dead body.
Krytien wheeled his horse around, causing the remains of his white hair to fall into his eyes. He brushed it back with his hand, revealing a face flushed with anger. “Raker, show some respect. How would you like it if someone did that to you?”
The mercenary shrugged. “I reckon if I was in his spot, a little spit would be the last thing on my mind. Besides, if he doesn’t like it, then let him do something about it himself,” he said with a laugh.
The mage turned away scowling and spoke to Jonrell. “I take it you aren’t concerned they may confuse us as bandits?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
Rygar came galloping back to the group. He was a little out of breath when he spoke. “I saw it. Three boulders, stacked one on top of the other, though I don’t know how. It must be some kind of sorcery for them to stay up like that.”
“How far?”
“Half a mile or so, just around that bend up ahead,” Rygar said, pointing over his shoulder. “I didn’t see anyone else around either, but to be honest, I didn’t take the time to check everywhere.”
“Good.” He turned in his saddle to face the rest of his men. “Everyone be on your toes. We’re probably walking into an ambush. Do not, under any circumstances, attack first. You are only to act by my command or if provoked. Is that clear?”
After a round of nods and grunts, he turned back to Rygar. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Just as the barkeeper had described, three boulders stacked one on top of the other stood on side of the road. Off to one side of the structure, the grass was trampled and wheel ruts marked the ground.
“For being called ‘The Hideaway’, they sure let you know where to find it,” said Raker.
Jonrell signaled Rygar into the woods first, along the narrow trail. He edged his horse after and the others followed.
A short while later Rygar stiffened in his saddle and came to a halt. His head turned to the left and to the right. Jonrell took note and raised a silent hand for the others to be on guard. His eyes scanned over the thick foliage to either side of the path, hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. Without turning round, he whispered. “Krytien.”
A soft voice answered back. “I’m ready.”
Jonrell decided to take a chance. He shouted, unsure where to project his voice. “We know you’re watching us. We mean no harm.” He paused, adding grit to his tone. “However, if you do anything to hinder our passage or hurt anyone in our group, I promise that not one of you will live to see tomorrow.”
A faint chuckle came from Jonrell’s left and a man appeared from behind a thick bush carrying a loaded crossbow aimed at Jonrell’s breastplate. Others followed, emerging from trees and bushes on either side of the road. Some even walked out of pits dug into the ground, hidden by leaves and underbrush. Over thirty men leveled either bow or crossbow at their group.
The first one still laughed. He took a step forward and Jonrell saw how young he was.
Probably late teens, and far too cocky.
“That’s a lot of empty talk for a man in your position,” said the boy.
Jonrell set his jaw and gave the youth an icy stare. “I promise there was nothing empty about what I said. I meant every word. We are on our way to The Hideaway where I’m assuming you reside. We would welcome an escort.”
The boy snorted. “An escort? You’ve got to be the most arrogant person we’ve met yet. But you seem new to this area, so let me fill you in on something. The Hideaway is off-limits to anyone we don’t approve of and that goes especially for a fully armed outfit your size. What are you supposed to be? Some misfit group of soldiers, or something?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” said Jonrell, allowing himself a grin, though he made sure it lacked any hint of amusement.
“Then you aren’t passing this point, but you’re in luck. I’m feeling generous today so I will allow you to leave here but only after each of you strips down to your skivvies. You will walk out of here empty handed, but at least you’ll be alive.”
I can’t believe I’m humoring this kid. Probably because he reminds me of myself at that age.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, son.”
The boy’s face turned red. Another voice, this one from the trees spoke up. “Careful, Mal. Look at that feller’s robes. I bet he’s a mage of some sort.”
“I can see that,” said Mal. “I’m not worried about any mage. That’s what we got Zemiah for.” His eyes darted about. “Where is he?”
“I think he’s puking up in the bushes over here,” someone called out.
“Well, then get him out here,” yelled Mal, shifting his stance.
A moment later an old man came stumbling out of the woods, nearly tripping over a rotted stump. Jonrell shook his head. “I believe your mage is drunk.”
The boy shrugged. “He might be, but it doesn’t matter. Just look at those dark red robes. Even I know this here is a High Mage and you ain’t got anyone to stop him.”
A snort sounded over Jonrell’s shoulder where Krytien waited. “The color of a man’s robes doesn’t make him a High Mage, son,” said the Commander. Jonrell leaned forward in his saddle. “I’m willing to bet on my man. Are you willing to do the same?”
Zemiah bent over and heaved. Mal shifted the crossbow in his hands, looking less sure of himself. “We’ve still got you surrounded. Your guy ain’t going to be able to stop all of us. I just need to…”
Mal was interrupted by his own sudden intake of breath. The point of a dagger lifted his chin up high as the blade pressed into the pale skin of his throat. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the large black man towering over him, bearing ivory white teeth.
One Above, where did Kaz come from? He’s twice the size of anyone here and I didn’t even see him until the dagger touched skin. He must have slipped through a dozen men to reach the boy.
Jonrell grinned at Mal as if he knew all along that they would reach this point. “You know, son, you may have something there. I’m sure you might take a few of us down, though in truth I’m starting to doubt it. But one thing is for sure. Regardless of what happens, you’ll be the first one to die.”
Someone called out, “He’s bluffing, Mal. We can take them, including that black demon.”
A slow trickle of blood crept down Mal’s neck and his head rose higher as Kaz dug the point into his skin. Panicked, Mal called out. “No! He ain’t bluffing. Put your weapons down.”
“But we ain’t supposed to give in to anyone,” called out another.
“One Above, I said put your weapons down. Now or I’ll kill you myself! Let Denneth take care of them. We didn’t sign up for this.”
Jonrell looked down as a small pool formed at the bottom of Mal’s boots. He smiled. “You’re not as dumb as I thought you were. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
The rest of the motley group was less eager to lay down their weapons than their once cocky leader. But after a little more coaxing, and a quick show of sorcery that embarrassed the man they called a High Mage, the others realized they weren’t particularly ready to die. Jonrell was grateful that he avoided any bloodshed. The last thing he needed was to lose any of his men while trying to recruit more able bodies.
As a sign of good faith, Jonrell allowed Mal’s group to keep their weapons with them, though he forced them to unstring their bows and set off their crossbows.
Mal and his men led them toward the Hideaway. Rygar, Jonrell, and Krytien rode upfront with the kid. The rest of the Hell Patrol stayed further back. All except Kaz that is, who rode amongst the Hideaway’s soldiers as a reminder that any questionable move would be their end. Jonrell ensured it never came to that. He eased the tension between both groups by joking and telling stories.
The deeper into the woods they traveled, the wider and clearer the path grew with stumps lining the road. They passed over a small stream by way of a newly built bridge.
After several hours they left the woods. The trees had been completely cleared away, several miles in either direction. Off in the distance, at the clearing’s center, stood a large wooden fortification with tall palisades jutting from the ground. He couldn’t make out the details of what lay inside the fort, but he did note that several buildings loomed over the walls.
The land outside the fort bustled with activity as farmers tended crops and cared for livestock. Along the outskirts of the cleared land, stood small towers, each manned by a lookout.
Someone knew what they were doing here.