Blade and bone, p.1
Blade and Bone, page 1
BLADE AND BONE
Blade and Bone Book 1
D.K. HOLMBERG
Copyright © 2021 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover art by Felix Ortiz
Cover design by Shawn King
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Contents
Chapter 1
Kanar
Chapter 2
Kanar
Chapter 3
Lily
Chapter 4
Kanar
Chapter 5
Lily
Chapter 6
Kanar
Chapter 7
Lily
Chapter 8
Kanar
Chapter 9
Kanar
Chapter 10
Lily
Chapter 11
Jal
Chapter 12
Honaaz
Chapter 13
Kanar
Chapter 14
Lily
Chapter 15
Kanar
Chapter 16
Kanar
Chapter 17
Honaaz
Chapter 18
Lily
Chapter 19
Jal
Chapter 20
Kanar
Chapter 21
Lily
Chapter 22
Honaaz
Chapter 23
Lily
Chapter 24
Lily
Chapter 25
Kanar
Chapter 26
Lily
Chapter 27
Jal
Chapter 28
Kanar
Chapter 29
Lily
Chapter 30
Kanar
Chapter 31
Honaaz
Chapter 32
Lily
Chapter 33
Kanar
Author’s Note
Series by D.K. Holmberg
Chapter One
KANAR
The dust of the road coated everything, working its way through the scarf Kanar Reims had pulled up to cover his face. A man learned to deal with almost anything, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
He scanned the horizon for possible dangers. Not that he expected to find any out here. The journey had been uneventful, and barely worthy of his services. Kanar would take the coin, though.
The wagons weren’t far from Sanaron now, and the job would be complete. Get them to the docks and unloaded safely, and they’d be done with another assignment. Then Kanar could get himself clean.
“Go check beyond the hillside,” he said to Jal.
The tall man glanced up from beneath his wide-brimmed hat and regarded Kanar with his almond-eyed gaze. “There’s nothing up there, Kan. Just more of the same dirt we’ve seen.”
“Then it shouldn’t take you long.”
Jal looked as if he wanted to argue but instead shifted his bow, touched his quiver—a nervous tic—and then loped off, his quick stride chewing up the ground between the wagon caravan and the slight rise in the distance.
“Think there’s anything up there?” Lily asked from where she sat on one of the wagons.
Kanar shook his head, not needing to look over to her. She’d taken to riding early during the assignment, choosing to sit on the wagon while Kanar and Jal walked alongside the slow-moving caravan. She had claimed to Heatharn, the merchant owner of the caravan, that it was because she was so much shorter than them and couldn’t keep pace, but the truth was that it gave her a chance to see—and hear—more than she could from the ground. Kanar had thought to teach her that sometimes dangers didn’t come from outside, but she already knew that truth.
“Probably not,” he said. “Been a quiet trip.”
“Too quiet, for what they’re paying us,” Lily said.
Now Kanar did look over to her. She was perched on the top of one of the container wagons. Her feet dangled over the edge, and her oiled boots kicked at the painted fox symbol of Heatharn’s house. She had to lean down to look at Kanar, and her long black hair fell to either side of her face.
“If it helps, I’ll keep your cut,” he said.
“You’ve probably thought about it already,” Lily said.
“I’ve always paid my debts.” Even when it cost him everything, Kanar didn’t add.
Jal jogged back to them. His gait reminded Kanar of a horse at full gallop, though that had something to do with his long legs.
“Nothing there,” Jal said, not even breathless from his run. He looked over to Lily, who worked to twist her hair into a braid while surveying the hillside in front of them. “City isn’t far, though. It’s been a far sight too long since we’ve been back in Sanaron. I’m ready for a bath and a cool mug of ale.”
Kanar grunted. It wasn’t the first time Jal had said it, as if talking about a thing brought it to life. A man got used to the dirt and stink on the road. Women do, too, he thought, glancing over to where Lily continued to run her fingers through her hair. He’d assumed she was braiding it, but now he saw that she was smoothing the dust out of it.
“You need it. The bath, at least,” Lily said to Jal.
“I suppose you think you smell like flowers? Even a pretty girl like you starts to stink.”
“Well, I am a Lily.”
“Only in name,” Jal said.
“Would the two of you be quiet?” Kanar snapped.
He glanced behind him. Heatharn sat atop the rearmost wagon, holding the reins to the pair of chestnut mares leading it tightly. The wagon was smaller than the other four in the caravan, little more than a flat bed with a bench seat, along with the black lacquered trunk chained to the wagon.
As if the chains don’t give away what he values here.
They had been hired to protect the entire caravan, though from what Kanar had been able to determine, the other wagons carried more commonplace items. He’d seen the silks in the lead wagon and the ceramics in the second one, but hadn’t figured out what the other two carried. That wasn’t the job, yet it didn’t stop him from trying to come up with answers. It was the rearmost wagon that had always caught his attention. Kanar was careful not to show his interest, but he was curious. The four armed toughs who were seated on top of the other wagons should be able to protect against most threats. Why hire Kanar’s team—unless whatever Heatharn was carting to Sanaron was extremely valuable?
Or dangerous.
That was the other possibility, though Kanar wasn’t sure how something small enough to fit into that trunk would be dangerous.
None of that was the job, though.
They were to help escort Heatharn and his wagons from the border town of Jerat to the port in Sanaron. For that, he and his team would make ten silver brals. Not a huge haul, but not terrible for a week of work. And easy work, at that.
“Say, Kan,” Jal said, his voice turning serious, “I see something up ahead. Either side of the road. Near the trees.”
Kanar frowned. From the ground next to the caravan, he couldn’t make out any danger, but he didn’t have Jal’s sight. Or Lily’s, for that matter. Not that he had bad eyesight—it was just that the two of them had better.
“I thought you scouted the road,” he said to Jal.
“There wasn’t anything up there then. There is now.”
Kanar couldn’t quite determine what Jal had seen. The peak of the hill would make a perfect spot for an ambush before they had a chance to descend into Sanaron. After that, it was mostly downhill, which meant the wagons would have a chance to outrun any highwaymen who thought to attack.
“Let Heatharn know we might have a touch of trouble,” Kanar said to Lily.
She popped to her feet. With how fast she raced atop the wagon and jumped to the next, it wouldn’t take long for her to reach Heatharn to warn him. The question now became whether Heatharn would follow Kanar’s instructions. Like other merchants, he’d probably think he knew better than the man he’d hired to protect him and would decide to stop the wagons, but Kanar wanted him to get the wagons moving faster, if anything.
“Check the trees on the left,” he said to Jal. “I’ll scope out the right.”
“What’s the plan?” Jal asked.
The unspoken question was a simple one: How much force would they use?
It was something too many teams got wrong. Killing was easy—Kanar had done that under the banner of the king for long enough to have learned that—but knowing when to exercise restraint was harder. That was a lesson he’d tried to instill in his team. Take out the wrong person, even if for the right reason, and you might find yourself hounded and any job you try to take that much harder. Or worse—you may find yourself hunted.
“Use your best judgment,” Kanar said.
Jal pulled an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it to the bow, but didn’t draw back. He rode off toward the trees.
Kanar checked his own weapons. He had a pair of knives strapped to his side, though he’d prefer not to use them. The short axe he carried offered an int imidation factor that he could take advantage of, but it would be more likely to maim or kill. He had the most control with the sword, but he almost never used it.
The blade had been a gift. A marker of his service. There had been a time when he’d been honored to carry it, but now it was reminder of who he’d been: the Blackheart, with a blackened blade to match. The artisanship of the sword was too skilled for him to abandon it, though.
Kanar slipped away. When he neared the trees, he glanced back to see the wagons lurching faster. Lily stood on Heatharn’s bench, eyes surveying everything around the caravan. The four toughs Heatharn had hired for his caravan had dislodged themselves from their seats, and now most of them held crossbows at the ready.
I really should have worked with them more during the journey.
They’d spent the better part of three days escorting this caravan. There had been time, but he doubted it would have made any difference. Men like that only thought of one thing—violence. There had been a time not that long ago when Kanar had been that way.
At least Heatharn had listened and gotten the wagons moving. The hillside wasn’t far from here. Once they crested it, the wagons would have an easy time getting down into the city.
Beneath the canopy of the leaves, the air was almost damp. That seemed strange considering how dry and dusty the road was.
Something moved about two dozen paces from him.
Idiots. Had they not seen him head into the trees?
Kanar slipped around one tree, then used another to shield his approach. By the time he came upon the figure, who wore a deep-green wool cloak, they had veered back toward the road.
A quick blow to the back of the man’s neck knocked him out.
Kanar rolled him over. He had tanned skin and a thin beard. Nothing to suggest where he came from. Or who he might serve.
He checked the man for weapons, found a knife and a crossbow, and tossed the knife deeper into the trees. Kanar kept the crossbow.
Another slip of movement caught his attention, and he picked his way carefully toward it. He found another person wearing a similar green cloak—heavily tattered and dirty—pulling an empty cart through the forest.
They weren’t after the entire caravan.
What was in that trunk?
Kanar raced forward, the damp soil and pine needles muting his steps. His training as one of the Realmsguard elite soldiers to the king of Reyand had taught him stealth. The figure started to turn, but Kanar was too quick.
He spun his knives. Darkened eyes beneath the cloak started to widen at the sight him. Had they recognized him?
Then he struck with the flat of his blade, and they crumpled.
Kanar glanced at the cart, which was small and meant for moving through the forest. The wheels were a dull gray metal, and the silvery wood looked to be sturdy. Someone with money or resources had made it.
What were a pair of highwaymen in the forest doing with something like that?
There were no other figures around.
He jogged through the trees until he reached the edge once more. The wagons had stopped.
What is Heatharn thinking?
Honaaz, one of the hulking toughs Heatharn had along with him, stood at the rear of the caravan. He held his crossbow up, ready to fire.
As Kanar approached, Honaaz pointed the crossbow at him.
“Fire at me, and my sword will go through your belly,” Kanar said.
Honaaz lowered the crossbow only a little, but enough so that it was no longer pointed directly at him.
Kanar searched on his side of the forest. There was no further sign of ambush. That meant it would come from the other side.
“Get the wagons moving again,” he said to Heatharn.
Heatharn looked down his long nose at Kanar, his scarred cheeks catching a hint of the midday sun. “I had to check my cargo. Besides, they said they can’t protect the wagons while they’re moving,” Heatharn said.
“But I can. Get them moving,” Kanar snapped. “Wait. What cargo were you checking?”
There was a soft scraping coming from one of the wagons.
“It’s none of your concern,” Heatharn said.
All of this is my concern.
“Just go, then.”
We can figure that out later.
Heatharn glanced to Honaaz, but Kanar shoved the man out of the way. Or attempted to. Honaaz might be the largest man Kanar had ever seen. Still, Kanar gave him a hard push, and he moved.
Honaaz didn’t need to argue, not when there could be an ambush. If they didn’t get the wagons to the docks the way they’d all agreed to, Honaaz wouldn’t see one bral either, let alone all ten they’d been promised.
Thankfully, the wagons started to move, albeit more slowly than Kanar preferred.
He jogged ahead. He found Lily still seated. “Two men in the trees. Reasonably well equipped,” he said, tossing the crossbow up to her.
Lily examined it. “Not bad quality for simple robbers.”
“Think that’s what they are?” Kanar asked.
She looked at the crossbow again, then got to her feet and stood with them apart as she squinted toward the trees. “Thought it was quiet.”
“It was.”
A dark figure near one of the trees up ahead caught Kanar’s attention, but before he could react, Jal was already driving his elbow into the back of the man’s neck. He crumpled.
As Jal crouched down, Kanar noticed another figure creeping closer to him.
“Think you can hit him from there?” he asked Lily.
“Not me. Jal’s the sure shot.”
Kanar went running. He didn’t need to get all the way to Jal, just close enough that he could use one of his knives. He might not have the same skill with the bow that Jal had, but he was deadly with his blades.
When he reached the trees, he let one of the knives fly. It tumbled end over end until it stuck into the man’s shoulder.
That gave Jal enough of a window that he looked up, realized that someone was closing in on him, then swept his leg around to knock the man down. With a brutal blow to his attacker’s head, the fight was over.
Kanar retrieved his knife, wiping it on the fallen man’s wool cloak. It matched the others they’d come across. Four of them, all dressed the same, and with weapons of reasonable quality. That, and the cart he’d seen.
“It would’ve been easier if you’d just let me shoot them from the wagons,” Jal said.
“Easier for now,” Kanar said. “Everything has consequences.”
As Jal finished checking for weapons, he pulled a knife from the fallen man and handed it to Kanar. “How many did you have to deal with?”
“Including the one that nearly killed you? Three.”
Jal nodded to the man Kanar had struck with his knife.
“See if he has any weapons on him, and let’s get moving,” Kanar said. “We need to get these wagons to the docks before sunset. I’m ready to be done with them, especially as Heatharn seems to be transporting something else inside one of those wagons.”
Jal looked over to them, his gaze narrowing. “Like what?”
Kanar shrugged. “Some sort of creature.”
Jal almost hissed in annoyance. “Something doesn’t feel right, Kan. Not sure what it is, but we should be ready.”
Kanar sighed. “One of those feelings?”
Jal had good instincts. Kanar knew to trust the man.
“I don’t know.”
Kanar headed over to the small hill and looked down at the city in the distance. Fog engulfed Sanaron the way it often did, to the point where he couldn’t even see the bay stretching out from the shoreline. Through the fog, he caught a few glimpses of buildings near the shore, but not so much that he could make out the distinct Sanaron architecture and the white buildings that occupied the center—and oldest—part of the city.
Kanar motioned to the wagons, encouraging them to keep moving. Now wasn’t the time to stop or slow. Now was the time to expedite this and move toward the city as quickly as possible. If there was one crew thinking to attack them here, it was possible there would be another.
