Free The Undead King: The Saga of Jai Lin: Book One by Jared Rinaldi

apart,” he said. “Dusty Yen could be on the march any day now. You say the Fort at Kingston is already mobilizing its forces, Solloway, which leads me to believe that the two armies will converge right over our heads and raze the entire countryside to the ground in the ensuing battle.”
    “That is the lay of it, Old Wren,” Solloway said. “Unless I can convince Dusty Yen to rethink his foolish war, or kill him, should the negotiations fail. That’s why I’m trying to get east as fast as I can.” Mercer now understood why the large man was so irritable: Solloway was to try and make terms with a warlord whose only response could be to laugh before flaying the grizzled old sergeant alive.
    Old Wren continued. “I understand. It was good of you to help with our search party last night, though I know you were tired from travel. You’re welcome to stay another evening if you’d like. I’m sure you could use the rest.”
    “There’s no time to rest, Wren. I have to go to Young Poe and see what these two have described for myself. The undead and poison roots… Gods...”
    “Poison roots?” Mercer had never heard of such a thing.
    “Yes, carnivorous tree roots that have the same desire for flesh as killim. They are extremely dangerous. Brook said she saw them while foraging in the Borderlands yesterday afternoon. Again, things that have not been seen in twenty eight years…”
    “Since General Godwin and the War for the Green Lands,” Solloway said. “This seems to mean only one thing, and I don’t like it, not one bit.” Solloway and Old Wren shared a look.
    Again, Mercer was in the dark. “What does it mean?” He asked.
    Solloway looked down at him, and Mercer could see the fear in the older man’s eyes. “It means that thirty years after Godwin, there is another zombie-tongue. We have reason to think he’s somewhere beyond the Borderlands, in the Blight. Whoever he is, he’s leading a plague of the undead and other creatures of darkness into the Green Lands.”
    Brook’s mouth fell open. She looked from Old Wren to Solloway to Mercer, hoping one of them would tell her that this was just one big joke, or that at least there was another possible explanation for all of it. Yet, she had seen too much in the past day to know that none of them would. They were about to be caught between two armies and a wave of undead.
    “There is no more time,” Solloway said. “I must continue on. After Young Poe, I’ll go on to the Mountain Road Fork and continue up the Kill Fish Road, take it all the way to the Rip. Dusty Yen is said to be a few eye-spans beyond the bridge, or so I’ve heard. Wren, it would be good if you could send as swift a messenger as you have to the Fort at Kingston to tell them of what we’ve discovered. They’ll get word to the other great cities, so they’ll know how best to prepare.”
    “Of course, Roderick. Wait, before you go...” Old Wren stood up from his chair and ambled over to a shelf empty save for some plastic tubs of rice. He moved the rice aside, revealing an iron safe, its black paint flaking, its knob rusted. After unlocking it and mumbling some numbers to himself, the old man turned and threw Solloway a bag of coin. “For the Wandering Bastards. If they are indeed joining with Dusty Yen, then you’ll see them. That should be enough for Crow. Do your best at getting him back.”
    “I give you my word,” Solloway said, tucking the bag of coin away. He stood up and came around the table again. Mercer thought the large man was staring straight at him, but as Solloway got closer, he realized that the soldier’s gaze was actually on Jai Lin, the Crane insignia on the hilt peeking over his shoulder. “That’s a warrior’s sword and one of a kind. Your old man ever tell you what makes it so special?”
    “No. He only ever said it was specially made for killing dead men.”
    “It was, and still is. That sword is unlike any other. It would be useful on the road