Free The Way of the Sword and Gun by Stuart Jaffe Page A

his hand had once been, and his eyes glazed over in thought. A moment passed before he shook off his own troubles and said, "The thing to understand is that I've endangered us, too. Tommy's managed it recently. It's the way of things. We live in dangerous times."
    "Not me, though. That is, not since I was a kid. Once I joined with the Order, they took care of me. I didn't have to fight for food or shelter. The only dangers I faced came from annoying the Masters and training. Life behind their walls was safe."
    "When I was a kid," Fawbry said, gesturing with his good hand as his excitement grew, "I remember hearing stories about the Order and its Guardians. I always wanted to join you guys. Learn the Way."
    "You should have. I think we would've gotten along well," Owl said with honest regret. He never had made too many friends, but Fawbry seemed so accepting that he could picture the fun they would have had together. And Fawbry wouldn't have betrayed him.
    "I'm not Order material," Fawbry said. "I never would have made it through the first week."
    "Nonsense. You've lived out here on your own and this is a truly dangerous world. I don't see how you manage to handle it."
    Fawbry nodded forward. "I have her."
     
    * * * *
     
    When the dawn arrived, Malja kicked her horse into a gallop and the others followed. The exhilaration of speeding across the Penmarvian landscape blotted out all of Owl's concerns. He concentrated on keeping control of the horse and enjoying the rush of air against his face. It was something the Masters had taught him — savor the immediate moments of one's life. Times to worry always come eventually.
    Not only did such wisdom prove to be freeing to Owl's tensions, but focusing on the immediate moment made the morning soar by as fast as the horses galloped. When Malja raised a hand to slow the group, Owl eased back in his saddle. His thighs ached and his body had become slick with sweat.
    A small stream curved nearby, and they let the horses drink up and rest. As Owl filled his canteen with water upstream from the horses, he heard a rider approach. Before he managed to stand, Malja had Viper out and readied herself for a battle. A boy no older than Tommy rode in on a small but fast horse.
    "It is you," he said, smiling at Owl.
    Without taking her eyes from the boy, Malja said over her shoulder, "You know him?"
    Owl waved Malja down from her fighting stance and rushed to the boy's side. "Sprint! You're alive!"
    "I was about to say the same of you," Sprint said with a hearty laugh. His dark hair had been cut short and spiky so that it looked like a dangerous helmet at first. Owl remembered the day the boy had shorn his waist-length hair. He said it made him faster, and it earned him the name Sprint.
    "I thought Queen Salia killed you all," Owl said.
    "She tried, but we're the Order, by Kryssta. You think some half-wit Queen and a two-faced betrayer are going to get the best of us?"
    "They killed Chief Master. And they said—"
    "The Order is still here. We're in bad shape, I won't lie to you. All the Masters are gone except Master Kee. Only a handful of magicians and Guards survived. But we're still here. And by the looks of your friends, you've brought us some reinforcements."
    Owl looked back at Malja, Tommy, and Fawbry. They made for a shabby bunch, but it would have to do. And despite a boy who refused to speak, or a man without a hand, or a woman ready to kill at the slightest provocation, for the first time, Owl felt a spark of hope in his heart.
     

 
     
    Malja
     
     
    The boy, Sprint, led them out of the forest and along the tree line. A vast open plain spread out before them. Owl called it the Great Field, and the name served it well. Nothing but wide swaths of grass as far as she could see.
    The Order compound, what remained of it, stood like a blemish on this ocean of grass. Black smoke rose from various points along its gated walls. From the outside, the compound reminded Malja of the more