Free Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) by Timothy Woods Page A

sky and constellation behind him spun crazily in his sight.
    "We are at your portal stones.  In what direction do your friends lie?"  Bastise asked.
    " Northwest," Tammin said softly.
    " Very good.  How many days travel are they?"
    " Over a week on foot.  Gratton is over a hundred leagues from here."
    Bastise swore vehemently.   "Thank you for the information.  I really wish I had the time to prolong this, but I must be on my way."  Bastise pulled a long hunting knife from one of the straps running over his shoulders.  He held it were Tammin could see it.  He waited until Tammin’s eyes focused on the blade then smiled down at him.
    " May your journey to Hell be short," Bastise said, still smiling, as he drug the knife across Tammin’s throat.
    Blood blossomed over Tammin’s throat and sprayed far out to the sides as both carotid arteries were severed.  Bastise watched as Tammin gurgled and choked on his own blood.
    "For the death of my men, for the abduction of Joshua, and for the pain you will have caused my friend Micah, you will taint the worlds no more with your foul presence."
    When Tammin finally stopped moving, Bastise untied the rope binding him , coiled it up, and hung it from his belt.  Remembering Micah’s orders to decapitate these beasts, Bastise pulled out his machete and with one powerful swing, severed Tammin’s head from his body.  Bastise took the cloth he had used to gag Tammin and cleaned both his knife and machete with it.  Sheathing both he tossed the cloth down on Tammin’s torso and hitched his pack up higher on to his shoulders.
    Bastise pulled out his compass and regarded it in the starlight.  The compass spun crazily and would not fix in any one position.  Again Bastise swore, cursing the fates that had brought him to this strange world.
    "I’m afraid that will do you no good here my friend," came a voice from behind.
    Bastise hung his head and his massive shoulders slumped.  "Micah."
    Turning, Bastise beheld Micah standing a short distance away with a slight man standing to his right and a little behind.  The slim man carried a bow in his left hand.  Bastise strode purposefully toward Micah and dropped to one knee in front of him , bowed his head, and refused to meet Micah’s eyes.
    " Micah, my friend.  No.  I do not deserve to call you friend any longer.  I have failed you.  Joshua has been taken."
    Micah looked down at Bastise.  The black beret and fatigues causing memories to rush back on him.  "Please get up, Colonel.  You may have been unsuccessful in stopping them from taking Joshua, but that is hardly your failure alone.  I should have been more vigilant."
    Bastise stil l refused to look up at Micah.  "No, this is on me.  You asked me to protect your nephew.  I was unable to do that which you asked of me," Bastise said firmly.
    " These are hardly normal circumstances.  I have no doubt that against anything short of magic, you would have been successful.  Rise my friend, you have lost no honor in my eyes," Micah told Bastise sincerely.
    Bastise slow ly raised his eyes to Micah’s.  "You always seem to know what is most in my heart."  Bastise rose fluidly to his feet and faced Micah.  "I am at your command.  What would you have me do?"
    " I would have you return to our world.  This is no place for you."  Seeing Bastise begin to protest, Micah held up a hand to forestall him.  "But since I know you will not return home, I would have you come with me to Kantwell.  Perhaps your knowledge in guerilla tactics can aid us."
    The elf be side Micah cleared his throat.  "My Lord, if you have no further need of us we would return to our posts."
    Turning his gaze to the slim man, Bastise exclaimed aloud as he noticed, for the first time , the slanting eyes and pointed ears.  "What manner of man are you?  I have never seen your like before."
    The elf grinned broadly.   "I am no man at all.  I am an elf.  My name is Finel of the Forest Guard."
    Bastise