City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy (26 page)

Chapter Twenty Seven

It was no easy task for Gris to talk Randall into going to the cemetery. The young healer was torn apart emotionally after what had happened at the Asylum the day before. Convincing Randall he was needed at the cemetery was difficult enough, but when he was told he would be administering to Kron Darkbow, the young man nearly lost his nerve. Randall still didn’t know if Kron was an agent of Lord Verkain.

As quickly and softly as he could, the city sergeant assuaged some of Randall’s fears by explaining what he knew Lucius Tallerus who was now called Kron Darkbow. Gris also explained the straits in which Kron had landed himself.

Randall didn’t seem happy about the situation. “
If Belgad finds out, this could get me killed.”

Gris nodded agreement. “
This could get us both killed.”

“
At least allow me to speak with Markwood, to let him know what is happening and where I’m going.”

“
Wouldn’t it be the safer for him if he knew nothing, at least until it is finished?”

Randall had to agree. Once Darkbow was healed, Kron could be on his way with his war against Belgad. As a healer Randall was sworn to attend to the ill or wounded, but once he was finished with Darkbow there would no longer be a link between the two.

“
I’ll do it.” The healer had finally agreed as he fingered the ring in the pocket of his robes. He had never trusted the ring, and most definitely did not trust it after its show of power at the Asylum, but he dare not leave it unprotected. He swore to himself he would never use the ring’s power again, but he wanted it with him in case Kron did turn out to be Kobalan. Randall wasn’t sure how he could use the ring to protect himself, but it was his best chance at escape.

He and Gris were soon on their way. The boy had not told Gris where exactly in the cemetery they would meet, but the sergeant figured the youth would find them.

Gris was proven correct.

“
There you are.” A young voice greeted the healer and the sergeant after they walked through an iron gate that opened onto a path of gravel leading into the large cemetery.

The boy appeared from behind a large gravestone.

Gris waved to him as they approached one another. “
My apologies for being late.”

“
It was only a few minutes.” The boy said, eyed the fellow in white robes next to the sergeant. “Who is this, then?”

“
Randall Tendbones at your service.” The healer gave a short bow of the head.

The boy’s unhappy eyes returned to the sergeant. “Decided to stick with Belgad’s boy, I see.”

“
I am no one’s servant,” Randall corrected. “I practice the healing arts for any in need.”

“
And lately that’s been Belgad.” The boy turned away and strolled through the maze of standing stones.

Randall looked to Gris, who shrugged, then both men followed the boy’s winding path through the cemetery.

After several minutes the youth came to a stop in front of a large mausoleum with its iron-gated doors hanging open.

“
Through there.” The boy pointed into the crypt.

Gris glanced inside and saw a small fire burning on the floor in the center of the empty chamber.
“
There’s no one in there.”

“
He’s in there.”

The sergeant stood in front of the open mausoleum for several silent seconds while searching the inside of the stone building. The only hiding places he could see were any of a dozen stone sarcophagi. He couldn’t imagine having to hide in one of those, among the musty bones of long-dead strangers.

“
Lucius?” Gris asked of the room.

“
The name is Kron.” The voice echoed from within the crypt.

Randall squeezed past the sergeant to enter the stone building.
“
This would appear to be the correct place.”

“
Are you the healer?” The voice remained elusive, giving no clues as to Kron’s hiding spot.

With Gris and the boy trailing, Randall stopped near the fire and allowed his eyes to become familiar with the shadows in the corners of the room. He could just make out a cloaked figure huddled on the floor in a corner, a black bundle next to him.

The healer nodded to the figure. “
I am Randall Tendbones, and yes, I have come to soothe your wounds.”

Kron’s eyes flashed on Sergeant Gris. “The only healer you could find was one who works for Belgad?”

Randall straightened as if to assure Kron of his dignity. “
I promise I will not reveal anything. I have no particular loyalty to Belgad.”

Kron grimaced. “
Then why work for such a man?”

“
I offer my services to all. Politics, religion, none of that makes a difference to me.”

“
I don’t care about the man’s politics or religion,” Kron said, wincing at the pain eating away at his gut. “I only care that he ruins people’s lives.”

“
And I would be ruining lives if I refused my healing skills.”

Gris stepped forward so his friend could see him, the sergeant’s face showing no pleasure in the situation. “
Lucius, you need help, so take it.”

“
The name is Kron,” the man on the floor repeated. “Lucius Tallerus no longer exists.”

“
This is crazy.” Gris looked to the healer. “Have you ever heard of an illness that makes a man think he is someone else?”

Randall nodded. “
It’s a form of insanity.”

“
I am not insane.” Kron shifted on the floor to ease his pain. “I have merely chosen a path in which Lucius Tallerus is no longer of use.”

The sergeant glared at the man in black. “
Lucius Tallerus was my friend, and I don’t intend to lose him just because he wants to play at revenge.”

Despite his movement, Kron appeared to have received no relief from his anguish. “
This is no game.”

Randall ignored both men and approached the injured man. He cautiously kneeled next to him and stuck a hand out. “Will you allow me to heal you?”

Kron’s stone eyes went from the healer to Gris then back again. “If you try anything, know I will kill you. And if you should reveal anything about me to Belgad the Liar, I will count you among my enemies.”

“
I suppose you would kill me then, too,” Randall said, reaching between the folds of Kron’s cloak to place a hand on the man’s chest.

“
Yes.” Kron closed his eyes as the magic began to flow throughout his body.

Gris watched as Randall too closed his eyes and leaned into Kron. It seemed to the sergeant the healer’s soul was reaching out to the man who had waged war against one of the most powerful figures in all West Ursia.

Seconds passed and Randall opened his eyes and leaned back as if weary.

Kron’s eyes also opened, staring at the healer.

Randall glanced over the injured’s man’s body. “
You’ve cracked several ribs. You’re right leg has a fresh cut down one side and an older wound in the back. There are also numerous cuts and bruises over your flesh.”

Kron allowed a weakened smile. “
You bring good tidings.”

Gris and the boy chuckled.

“
The same old Lucius,” the sergeant said.

Kron’s eyes hardened again as he glared at Gris.

The sergeant frowned, noting his wording. “My apologies.
Kron
.”

Randall ignored the brief tension and allowed a narrow grin. “
What would have been a bad report?”

Kron looked to the healer. “
Internal bleeding, or a major wound. I’ll live to fight again.”

“
Yes, you will, but you need at least a week off your feet.”

Kron paid little mind to the suggestion. “
How long will it take for your magics to work?”

“
I can offer some treatment now, but I’ll have to return to the tower for potables and herbs. I did not know the full extent of your wounds, so I did not know what to bring.”

The answer did not satisfy the man in black. “
You did not answer my question.”

“
Considering the walk back to the tower, time to gather the needed items, the walk here and time to administer the proper care, I would assume it will take about three hours to have you on the road to recovery, but eventually, preferably before the sun falls again, we need to have you in a bed.”

“
I’ll find some place,” Gris chimed in. “I’m not sure where yet, but I’ll find a place for you to rest.”

“
It looks to me you’ve found the perfect place to rest.” The sturdy voice came from the entrance.

***

Gris, Randall and Wyck turned to see who had spoken.

It was Belgad. He stood in the entrance, behind him Spider and Stilp and several armed guards.

Kron used the side of a stone coffin to pull himself to standing.
“
I wondered when you would make an appearance.”

Belgad took a step into the large mausoleum. On his back hung a huge sword nearly as long as he was tall. “All the rats in one hole.” The large man pointed at Gris. “Your friends should learn to watch their trail. It could get you killed some day.”

Kron spat blood into a corner. “
No day like the present.”

Randall moved between Kron and Belgad. “This man is in my care. I will not allow you to shed his blood.”

Belgad laughed. It was a good, long, hardy laugh. When he finished his eyes continued to smile. His lips did not. “How are you going to stop me?”

“
Randall and Kron do not stand alone.” Gris drew his sword.

“
Yeah,” Wyck said, pulling a small knife from inside his dirty shirt.

Belgad stepped to the side of the entrance, giving his men room to enter, and stared at his opponents with pity. “Give me Darkbow without a fuss and the rest of you will live.”

There was no chance to answer. Kron dove forward with a scream of rage, his fists swinging for the Dartague. Randall reached out to stop the larger man, but Kron bowled him aside with little trouble, sending the healer reeling across the room to slam against a wall and to fall into unconsciousness.

A grin slid across Belgad’s face as Kron crashed into the bulky northerner. Belgad took the brunt of the blow with only a step back, then stood his ground and wrapped a large hand around his attacker’s throat while the weakened Kron continued to swing and kick with little effect.

Gris blocked Belgad’s men from entering the crypt, planting himself in the doorway and knocking aside their swords.

Wyck jumped forward to save Kron, his rusty knife raised over his head before he brought it down with all the might he could muster in his thin arms.

The boy’s blade sank deep into the muscle of Belgad’s thigh and the Dartague screamed, dropping his opponent. Kron collapsed, choking at the big man’s feet.

“
You will pay for that, little runt.” Belgad swung an open hand, catching the boy in the face and sending him flying across the room to crash into the wall next to Randall.

“
Enough of this.” Belgad thrust a hand up and over his right shoulder, unslinging his monstrous sword.

Out of the corner of his eye Gris could see the hulking Dartague bringing around his weapon. The sergeant blocked another blow from one of the men in front of him then sprang backward. He was trapped in a hole with few options, but he knew he couldn’t take on the two soldiers at his front with Belgad at his side. Unfortunately he had also given the two soldiers room to move inside the crypt, their companions close behind.

Wyck’s knife protruding from his leg, Belgad the Liar turned to face the sergeant. “You were a good man, Gris. You could have been of use. I’m sorry to have to do this.”

Belgad raised his sword over his head in both hands, then suddenly screamed. His weapon dropped from his hands with a loud clanging as he glared down to see Kron reaching up from the ground and twisting Wyck’s knife.

The Dartague swung a fist. Darkbow tried to block with an arm, but he was too weak. The fist sent him rolling toward Randall and Wyck. Kron was still conscious after Belgad’s blow, but just barely. His eyes fluttered, scarcely able to remain open.

Gris stood his ground, sword in front as a warning to any who would come closer.

“
Finish this!” Belgad bellowed to his men as he yanked the knife from his leg, spraying blood.

The four guards moved in on Gris as Stilp and Spider entered behind them.

Spider’s eyes went to Randall and the large ring on his hand. He moved around his compatriots and knelt next to the healer.
“
This one is mine.”