Free Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3) by Craig Gaydas Page A

couch. “There seems to be a lot of that going around lately. He turned slowly and his eyes fell on me. “Do whatever you can to defeat your enemies,” he repeated.
    “Within reason,” I blurted. I had no idea at the time why I said it. Perhaps I felt the need to justify our decisions—either to him or to myself.
    Yori chuckled. “Did you hear that, Mazu? Within reason he says.” He turned and looked at our prisoner.
    “Go to hell,” Mazu grumbled in response.
    Yori turned back to me. “I don't think he agrees with you.” The bus slowed down and a concerned look crossed his face. He hurried to the front of the bus.
    Kedge sat up and joined Vigil at the window. Up ahead, the road veered around a corner and disappeared behind a wooded area. To the left of the woods stood a foreboding gray brick wall which, by my estimate, had to be at least four hundred feet tall. I moved toward the front of the vehicle to get a better view. About thirty yards ahead, a lone figure sat hunched over an object in the middle of the street.
    Jori stopped the bus, turned to Yori and nodded. Yori sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I had hoped we would make it further than this,” he muttered.
    “What's wrong?” I asked.
    Mazu broke out in laughter. “What he is trying to say is you are dead.” He struggled against his bonds and tried to stand up. Yori roughly shoved him, causing him to fall backwards on the couch.
    “You'll be needing that,” he said to me, indicating the rifle strapped over my shoulder. “Follow Jori out the door, stick close to me. Whatever you do, don't wander off the road.”
    “So what is it?” I asked. “What's going on?”
    Yori frowned. “You will see.”
    Jori stood by the exit door with a darkened scowl spread across his wide face. “Keep your mouths shut and your weapons close.”
    “It's just one person,” Kedge replied sarcastically. “I'm sure us big strong fellas can handle him.”
    Yori's mouth curled into a wry smile. “With The Forsaken, it is never just one.”
    “How do you know it is a Forsaken?” Vigil asked. “Perhaps he is just a wanderer?” I noticed Vigil fidgeting with the silver bracelet on his arm. His finger caressed the falcon's eye gently. Despite his question, he was taking no chances.
    “I guess we will see,” Jori replied enigmatically before opening the door. Air from the outside poured in. It smelled stale, almost sulfuric and I realized that despite the wall, the air from the Badlands overtook the good air from the other districts.
    Kedge, Vigil and I stepped out of the bus, sandwiched by the brothers. Yori held his sword tightly by his side. Jori held a pistol out, trained on the subject in the road.
    We were about fifteen feet behind him when Jori turned to us. “Stay here.” He left us and approached the figure cautiously. His gun never wavered while pointed at the back of the person's head. He stopped about five feet away.
    The object on the ground was not an object at all, but a body. It was so badly decomposed I couldn't tell if it was a male or female. The hunched figure was rummaging through the corpse's pocket and scavenging items when he heard Jori approach. He stopped what he was doing and turned his head slowly.
    When he turned completely, I nearly dropped my gun. His face was missing. His head was nothing more than a pale blank slate of skin. His hair was spaced apart in short, dark patches, giving his head a soccer ball appearance. I wondered how he could see us until I saw the two eyeballs embedded in his neck line. When he saw us, he made a soft, mewling sound—similar to a wounded cat.
    “Holy Jesus!” I croaked.
    Kedge uttered a surprised gasp. “What the hell is that?” He lifted his rifle defensively.
    The faceless man stood. He was gaunt and his clothes barely clung to him. They were a tattered mess and looked as if they had been run through a shredder. He was unarmed with the exception of a small, silver cylindrical object, which he