Hero of Slaves (6 page)

He noted that the sun had only been up for a short while. By the light of day, the aftermath of the fight appeared more gruesome than Cassus had imagined. The surviving Byzernians swabbed the deck, washing blood and gore over the side in long red streaks. Cassus looked over the railing as they walked toward the bow. Sharks whipped the water into a bloody froth.

While the Byzernians worked, crewmembers brought from below by Quai manned the ship and repaired damaged rigging. They did so in chains while under the watchful eyes of several Byzernians. The remaining crewmembers remained locked in the ship’s hull.

Past the cargo on the main deck sat Melchizan, tied carefully at the arms and legs.

The slave trader looked up at Cassus. “Should have listened to Roshan and just had you killed.”

“Probably.”

Melchizan chuckled. “Well, I guess you lived up to your name, huh? Hero of Slaves and all that. I’m sure they’ll be telling this tale for some time.”

“For a man in your position, you seem to be in high spirits.”

Melchizan’s face darkened. “You want me to beg?” He spat. “You can go to the One Below, Lover of Slaves.” His eyes brightened for a moment. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “And when you get there, give Jonrell my regards.”

Cassus drew his sword, and sliced it across Melchizan’s throat in one motion. Blood gushed down his chest and stomach, forming a puddle at his legs.

Cassus knew he should have felt happy, but he only felt numb.

“Where do we go from here?” asked Yenaz.

Where indeed?

Thinking of Jonrell, only one place came to mind. “Home,” whispered Cassus.

Chapter 7

Cassus and Jonrell walked the field of battle, taking an account of casualties.

“They almost had us a few times,” said Cassus.

“It was definitely close there for awhile,” said Jonrell. “But we came through.”

“It was because of you. You held us together again. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Trust me, you’d manage. One day I’ll die and someone will take my place. The Hell Patrol will move on.”

“Maybe.” Cassus paused.

“I’m not irreplaceable.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sure the Hell Patrol will move on. But if you’re not around, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what I’d do.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, but you’ll be fine. In fact, I’m sure you’ll be more than that.”

Cassus snorted.

Jonrell grabbed Cassus by the arm and stared at him with those cold, gray eyes. Eyes that seemed to change into a sheet of ice when he meant to get someone’s attention. “Trust me. You’re better than anyone here, whether you believe it or not.” He jabbed a finger in Cassus’ breastplate. “In here. One day you’re going to be a hero whose name will live on long after all of us are dead. Of that I have no doubt.”

* * *

Water lapped against the shore. Longboats slid onto the coarse sand. Cassus breathed deeply as he stepped onto land. The corners of his mouth tugged at a slow smile as he looked at the peaceful village.

Many of the freed slaves ran on ahead to speak with the residents of the village.

Yenaz clasped Cassus on the shoulder. “We made it.”

They had been at sea for three more days before sighting one of the outer islands.

“I thought everyone would have moved to the inner islands for the added protection of the barrier.”

Yenaz shook his head. “No. The barrier was a great idea, but most who live on the outer islands are too stubborn to leave them. People have resided here for thousands of years.”

“So, they are still susceptible to others like Melchizan.”

Yenaz slid his hand away. “For now, yes. But I don’t intend for it to stay that way.”

“What will you do?”

“Rest here for a day, maybe two, and then go to our capital. With Quai supporting me, our leaders are more likely to listen.”

“So, your people will fight?”

Yenaz’s voice grew heavy. “Not if I can help it. You’ve only seen a small glimpse of the power our elders possess. I’m certain they can find another way to not only protect us, but also to free those still in bondage on Mytarcis.”

“And if they can’t?”

“Then I’ll fight, even if no one else will. Though I swear I’ll hate every minute of it.” He paused. “Will you reconsider staying with us? At least long enough to talk with our leaders? I’m sure they would want to hear your side of the story.”

Cassus shook his head. “No. I’m afraid if I don’t leave now, I’ll lose my nerve. I have friends to look after.” He paused. “And family as well, if they’ll speak with me after so long away.”

“You’re a good man.” Yenaz chuckled. “I know you hate the title, but without the Hero of Slaves my people would not have been able to overcome thousands of years of tradition. You’ve helped at least this small group see what is sometimes necessary. Even if that means nothing to your family, it means everything to me.”

Hero of Slaves? Jonrell once used the term in anger, now Yenaz uses it to honor me.

Cassus eyed Yenaz and the other Byzernians coming ashore. They looked stronger, more confident, than when he first met them.

And I had a hand it helping them along. Hero? No. But I guess I did make a difference after all.

What would Jonrell have said to that?

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.

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.

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

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

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.