The Wandering Knight Read Free Page A

Randerly. You're a knight and the brother of a powerful lord, and Lord Randerly will believe you over anything Reccard says."
    "Ridiculous," said Mazael. "I was leaving Knightport. Go back and tell..."
    He blinked as a thought occurred to him.
    Reccard and Waller hated each other.
    And here was an opportunity. 
    "Actually," said Mazael, lowering his sword. "We might have a way to free you of Reccard," he glanced at Gerald, "and to release your father at the same time."
    "I'm listening," said Alfric.

    ###

    A few moments later Mazael followed Alfric to a clearing in the woods.
    Reccard himself waited there, wearing the robe of an official in Lord Randerly’s service, a wide smile on his face. 
    A dozen men stood around him, clubs and short swords in hand. 
    Mazael walked behind Alfric, hands tied behind his back, his sword resting in Alfric’s belt. 
    “Well,” said Reccard. “Well, well. Alfric. You surprise me. How did this happen?”
    Alfric shrugged. “Dumb luck. Your friend here had a little too much to drink. I found him in the woods sleeping it off. So I cracked him over the head, took his sword, and tied him up. The hardest part was waiting for him to awaken. Might have hit him a bit too hard, I fear.”
    Reccard chuckled. “Ha! The mighty knight, vanquished by a potter. Perhaps the jongleurs will make a song of it.”
    Reccard’s men laughed. Alfric put his hand on Mazael’s shoulder and steered him forward. 
    “Why the devil are you chasing me?” said Mazael. “What did I do to you?”
    “You killed one of my lads,” said Reccard. 
    “You were trying to kill me,” said Mazael.
    Reccard shrugged. “If you just had the good grace to get kidnapped, it wouldn’t have mattered.” He laughed. “Besides, you crossed me, and I can’t have that. No one crosses Reccard the Fist and gets away with it.” He drew a dagger. “I won’t get much profit from selling your sword and armor, true, but I’ll keep your head in a jar of honey and show it to anyone foolish enough to think about crossing me.”
    He strode towards Mazael, the dagger in hand.
    It was time to act.
    Mazael waited until the last minute, and then tugged at his arms. Alfric’s loose knots came undone, and Mazael punched Alfric in the stomach. But Mazael pulled the punch, and Alfric made a great show of doubling over, wheezing. 
    “He’s loose!” croaked Alfric. “Gods, he’s loose. He’s…”
    Mazael ripped his sword from Alfric’s belt as Reccard came to an alarmed halt. He stabbed at Reccard’s face, but the smaller man jumped aside. Mazael’s boot lashed out and caught Reccard in the left knee. The customs collector went sprawling in the dirt, pine needles clinging to the sleeves of his robe. 
    Mazael laughed. “Is that the best you can do? Pathetic. No wonder Waller hired me to kill you.”
    “Waller?” said Reccard, spitting the name like a curse. “Kill him! You fools! What are you waiting for? Kill him now!”
    The thugs surged forward with a yell, and Mazael sprinted into the woods.
    Towards Waller’s hideout.
    He only hoped Gerald could follow directions.

    ###

    Gerald Roland straightened his tabard, took a deep breath, and marched to face the concealed stockade.
    The bandit on guard atop the stockade blinked in surprise and reached for his bow. Gerald hope the foolish churl didn’t shoot him.
    “I am Gerald of House Roland, the youngest son of Lord Malden of House Roland!” shouted Gerald. “In the name of my father, I demand that the rogue Waller come forth and parley at once!” 
    The sentry disappeared behind the stockade, and a moment later a fat man in leather armor appeared atop the wall, his face as red as his hair.
    “So what do we have here?” said Waller, grinning. “A little lord come to ransom his father?” He leaned over the stockade and spoke in the slow, patronizing voice men sometimes used with children. “Did you bring the shiny gold?”
    “Nothing of the sort,” said Gerald,