Warriors, Wizards, & Rogues: Tales of Swords & Sorcery by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

Author:Jeffrey L. Kohanek [Kohanek, Jeffrey L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B08575T8G6
Goodreads: 52067688
Publisher: Fallbrandt Press
Published: 2020-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Angry clouds darkened the sky, matching Jerrell’s disposition. His backside was sore, as expected, but he refused to let it show and give Brogan the satisfaction. The day had been long, and nightfall appeared to be coming. It was difficult to be sure with the approaching storm.

To the northwest, streaks of lightning flashed in the distance. After each strike, Jerrell would count the seconds before the sound of thunder reached them. He hoped the storm might slide past, but the count between lightning and thunder continued to dwindle. With each rise they crested, Jerrell eagerly searched for signs of a village or a wayside inn where they could stop. Those hopes repeatedly met with disappointment.

By the time he pulled the reins and stopped his horse, the gloom had drastically reduced Jerrell’s vision. Brogan slowed to a stop beside him.

“The storm will hit soon,” Jerrell said.

“Yep.”

“We should find shelter.”

“Seems like a smart idea. You’re the leader. What’s the plan?”

Looking around, Jerrell saw nothing but forest and a narrow trail to one side of the road. He led his horse through the trees until the trail opened to a small glade. Downhill from the meadow was a narrow, bubbling brook.

“We will stop here. The horses can drink and eat.”

Jerrell dismounted and led his horse down to the stream before squatting to refill his two waterskins. After a moment, Brogan led his horse down to the brook, as well.

Jerrell wanted to ask for advice, but the idea of giving Brogan added satisfaction made him angry. He hated that the man had been right about the food and water. Having grown up as a thief in a great city, Jerrell was streetwise, knew his environment and the people who frequented it. In Fastella, he seldom faced a situation when he couldn’t rely on his own experience. Here, out in the wilderness, Jerrell had to guess at each turn. He hated that.

Returning to the glade, the two men tethered the horses to a downed tree, giving the mounts enough freedom to move around and munch on the long, yellowed grass. The sky flashed and the ground shook with a deep rumble of thunder. The sky opened up and it began to pour.

Jerrell pulled his hood up and fought an inner struggle, one side wishing to ask Brogan for advice, the other despising the very idea. Finally, he asked, “Do you have any suggestions?”

The man grunted from somewhere beneath his cloak. “About what?”

“The rain.”

He grunted again. “Since you didn’t procure a tent, we have to tough it out. You made it clear. You’re the boss. You wanted to camp here. Well, this is going to be a wet night.”

The rainfall doubled in intensity, coming down so heavily, puddles began to pool. Jerrell hated being wet.

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