Bob The Wizard 4 Final by Prindle M. V

Author:Prindle, M. V.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: M. V. Prindle
Published: 2023-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Despite so many of his questions being answered, Bob’s head was spinning with them. He didn’t know where to start, and in any case, he was probably leaving in the morning for Ransom Ridge. He and Osivia touched Bernard’s sanded staff, travelled through the high-pressure tunnel, and arrived back in the tapestried hut in the Koreka. Once in Bob’s hut, Osivia fell asleep at the foot of his bed. He thought he might stay awake all night going over what Bernard had said about the Order, over what Quaker’s footage had revealed. But he was exhausted, so fell asleep quickly.

The next morning, he had no time to think. It was all hustle and bustle. Fan arrived at his tent and woke him apologetically, saying he was needed at the front gate. For the first time since Bob had met her, he’d had to wake Osivia. She woke cheerful enough but expressed no interest in accompanying Bob on the raid.

“Violence is the language of the ignorant,” she said.

He wasn’t sure about that, but he understood not wanting to go. He didn’t want to go. As he packed ammunition and checked the rifle’s action, he considered asking her to come along just because he enjoyed her company. But he decided against it. That would be selfish, to ask her to endanger herself and to witness violence, just so he could feel a little better. She wished him good luck and fluttered away as he strode out into the cool morning air, toward Arbor House and the front gate.

He grabbed a quick bite at the kitchen, and Hirrell, his yellow hair grown so long it was up in a ponytail, also wished him luck. All Bob’s other friends seemed to be elsewhere. After breakfast he rounded Arbor House on the stable-side to find Harold Whitespring of Nine Peaks waiting for him with a pair of horses. Bob greeted the chestnut mare Harold offered him, then awkwardly stepped into a stirrup and swung himself up onto the saddle. He’d ridden animals before, but he was still very much a novice. The mare seemed patient and good-natured, though, and Bob was grateful for that.

Harold mounted the other horse—an enormous black and white destrier—and then he and Bob were cantering past a stand of trees toward the front gate. When the gate came into view, Bob’s heart sank a little. The raiding party was mounted and ready, awaiting Bob and Harold’s arrival. It was about a dozen En’harae, all equipped with longbows, shortswords, and bucklers. Among them, six inches taller than his fellows, sat Gorrelai. He held no bow, but he wore a vicious-looking curved blade on his back and an impressive suit of gambeson, chain, and studded leather. At the group’s head, sitting easily in the saddle atop a beautiful gray horse, was Kelael. He was the party leader, of course. Bob silently cursed. For the next few days, Kelael was his boss.

Bernard, bleary eyed, stood next to Melanae by the gate, neither of them mounted.

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