Read Online Stone Rising by Gareth K Pengelly - Free Book Online Page B

tobacco that caught the back of his throat and threatened to make him cough.
                  A tavern. How long had it been? That begged another question; how long had he been with the Outlaws in the forest? Two years? Three? He smiled as he followed Will down into the bar area, the rough-hewn tables with barrels about them that served as seats, filled with drinkers, all hunched low, heads down, minding their own business and paying no attention to the newcomers. Felt like longer, he thought. He’d had a name back then.
                  The Boy. That was his only name now.
                  The landlord turned to them as they rested against the bar, polishing a pewter mug against his greasy apron, eyes furrowed in a perpetual frown.
                  “What’ll it be, gents? Ale?”
                  Will sniffed, his nose running now he’d come into the warm, trying his best to angle himself towards the hearth whilst still facing the barkeep.
                  “Something that’ll warm us up.”
                  A nod and a grunt.
                  “Ale it be, then.”
                  He grabbed two mugs that were hanging above the bar, filling them from a tapped barrel behind him as the Boy leant over to speak.
                  “Interesting name this place has…”
                  “Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem?”  The barkeep gave a quick grin as he placed the foaming mugs back on the counter, but the mirth didn’t reach his eyes. “This is the last stop for many young men such as yourselves, before shipping out to the holy lands.”
                  The Boy raised an eyebrow in puzzlement as he handed over some copper coins, but it was a voice from behind that answered his unasked question.
                  “The Shiriff’s coin is what awaits most lads in here, my young friends.” The man sat, hunched by the fire, atop the one, shorter stool that allowed for his meagre frame. He was old, his hair white, skin parchment-dry and riven with advancing years. “Only by luck have you missed them tonight. Or it’d be service for you two as well…”
                  The pair of outlaws looked at each other, then made their way over to the man’s table, relishing the warmth of the hearth as they sat on the barrels. The barman went back to his business as the three began to talk.
                  “The Shiriff’s coin?” enquired Will, a slight smile playing his lips. “This is where they come to conscript you say, old man?”
                  A sage nod.
                  “Aye. One of many. Each of the taverns offers them pickings of a night; a drunk youth is oftentimes easily swayed with promise of gold or glory. And call me Nathaniel…”
                  “Will,” the youth replied, before gesturing to his companion. “And this is the Boy.”
                  Nathaniel raised his eyebrows in amusement as he took in the strapping youth.
                  “The Boy? Perhaps once a suitable title, but surely the years necessitate a change at some point?”
                  The Boy stared into the flames as he pondered his reply.
                  “A person’s name gives him power. Likewise, knowledge of that name can then give power to his foes. The Boy suits my purposes for now.”
                  The old man nodded, then replied as he drew forth a pipe, proceeding to fill the bowl with tobacco.
                  “Wise words, if not a little paranoid, if you don’t mind my say so. I have heard tell from holy men that a demon can be controlled by the knowledge of its name. But you are no demon, lad, or at least you hide your horns well, if that you be. I’m sure whatever doom you feel might befall you upon use of your true title would not