Read Online The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag by Brian S. Pratt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian S. Pratt
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about this.”
Scar nodded and dismounted.
The boy took hold of the reins even though Potbelly remained in the saddle. “Just hold up a bit.”
Nodding and grinning, the boy kept reins in hand as Scar entered the inn.
A few moments later, Scar emerged. “He’s on the up and up.”
Potbelly swung down and grabbed his bags. Scar came and did the same.
“Here,” Potbelly said, flipping the boy a copper. “See they get fed.”
“Oh, yes indeedy,” the boy replied, catching the coin. He then led the horses around to the back.
They dined in the common room, drank a bit too much ale and then after a few feats of skill against other patrons, headed to their room. With the exertions of the day, and mead dulling their wits, sleep found them swiftly.
The world was still dark when voices from outside intruded upon Scar’s sleep. He did his best to ignore them, but when he heard one of them mention, “Garrock,” he bolted up in bed.
“…until the morning after next,” a voice said. “And if you find them, kill them and take the map.”
“You got it, boss.”
Scar went to the window and reached it in time to see a large group of riders take off to the east leaving four riders at the inn. The rider in the lead was dark haired, dressed in chainmail and had a double-headed axe slung across his back. Garrock!
When the four riders dismounted and headed for the inn, he woke Potbelly.
“Trouble,” he said, shaking his friend.
“Hmmm?” a sleepy Potbelly said.
“Garrock was here.”
That snapped him awake. “Here?” he asked. “When?”
Scar pulled on his boots. “Just now, outside. He took off down the road but left four men here.”
Potbelly grabbed his trousers and hurriedly got dressed.
“Do they know we’re here?”
Scar shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not, else they would have all stayed.” Buckling on his sword belt, he said, “They know about the map.”
“How can that be?”
“Has to be Tork.”
“Do you think so?”
“Who else could it be?” Scar replied. “He was the only one in Castin who knew what we were about.” His face turned stony. “I’ll kill that old man.”
“He might have told him we were going to Cara, too.”
“Well, that was the direction in which Garrock and the rest of his men departed.”
Noise still came from the common room below. People made merry though the bard had long since packed it in.
“There are four.”
Potbelly glanced to Scar and nodded.
“We make for the horses and don’t stop for anyone.”
Scar slung his pack over his shoulder and nodded. He moved to the door and cracked it open. Not seeing anyone in the hallway, he opened the door and left the room.
A lone lantern hung on a peg at the landing, its light illuminated most of the hallway.
“Come on,” Scar said and stepped quickly toward the stairs.
At the landing, he peered down to the ground floor. A man stood at the foot of the steps; whether or not he was Garrock’s man was impossible to determine.
Then while they were deciding whether he was or not, three men joined him at the steps and together, they started up to the second floor.
“Back to the room,” Scar urged and they hurried back down the hallway, through the door and closed it until just a crack was left for Scar to peer through.
The first man appeared at the landing. He paused and when the others joined him, two continued on up to the third floor while the other two moved down the hallway toward them.
On the way, they paused by each door and jiggled the handle. If the door opened they briefly peered in and if it was locked, they put their ear to it for a few moments.
Scar closed the door and put a finger to his lips. He very slowly threw the bolt then motioned for Potbelly to accompany him to the window.
“They’re checking the rooms,” he whispered. “Two on this floor…” He paused when the handle of their door jiggled. It continued for a couple seconds, then it stopped. “The other
Scar nodded and dismounted.
The boy took hold of the reins even though Potbelly remained in the saddle. “Just hold up a bit.”
Nodding and grinning, the boy kept reins in hand as Scar entered the inn.
A few moments later, Scar emerged. “He’s on the up and up.”
Potbelly swung down and grabbed his bags. Scar came and did the same.
“Here,” Potbelly said, flipping the boy a copper. “See they get fed.”
“Oh, yes indeedy,” the boy replied, catching the coin. He then led the horses around to the back.
They dined in the common room, drank a bit too much ale and then after a few feats of skill against other patrons, headed to their room. With the exertions of the day, and mead dulling their wits, sleep found them swiftly.
The world was still dark when voices from outside intruded upon Scar’s sleep. He did his best to ignore them, but when he heard one of them mention, “Garrock,” he bolted up in bed.
“…until the morning after next,” a voice said. “And if you find them, kill them and take the map.”
“You got it, boss.”
Scar went to the window and reached it in time to see a large group of riders take off to the east leaving four riders at the inn. The rider in the lead was dark haired, dressed in chainmail and had a double-headed axe slung across his back. Garrock!
When the four riders dismounted and headed for the inn, he woke Potbelly.
“Trouble,” he said, shaking his friend.
“Hmmm?” a sleepy Potbelly said.
“Garrock was here.”
That snapped him awake. “Here?” he asked. “When?”
Scar pulled on his boots. “Just now, outside. He took off down the road but left four men here.”
Potbelly grabbed his trousers and hurriedly got dressed.
“Do they know we’re here?”
Scar shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not, else they would have all stayed.” Buckling on his sword belt, he said, “They know about the map.”
“How can that be?”
“Has to be Tork.”
“Do you think so?”
“Who else could it be?” Scar replied. “He was the only one in Castin who knew what we were about.” His face turned stony. “I’ll kill that old man.”
“He might have told him we were going to Cara, too.”
“Well, that was the direction in which Garrock and the rest of his men departed.”
Noise still came from the common room below. People made merry though the bard had long since packed it in.
“There are four.”
Potbelly glanced to Scar and nodded.
“We make for the horses and don’t stop for anyone.”
Scar slung his pack over his shoulder and nodded. He moved to the door and cracked it open. Not seeing anyone in the hallway, he opened the door and left the room.
A lone lantern hung on a peg at the landing, its light illuminated most of the hallway.
“Come on,” Scar said and stepped quickly toward the stairs.
At the landing, he peered down to the ground floor. A man stood at the foot of the steps; whether or not he was Garrock’s man was impossible to determine.
Then while they were deciding whether he was or not, three men joined him at the steps and together, they started up to the second floor.
“Back to the room,” Scar urged and they hurried back down the hallway, through the door and closed it until just a crack was left for Scar to peer through.
The first man appeared at the landing. He paused and when the others joined him, two continued on up to the third floor while the other two moved down the hallway toward them.
On the way, they paused by each door and jiggled the handle. If the door opened they briefly peered in and if it was locked, they put their ear to it for a few moments.
Scar closed the door and put a finger to his lips. He very slowly threw the bolt then motioned for Potbelly to accompany him to the window.
“They’re checking the rooms,” he whispered. “Two on this floor…” He paused when the handle of their door jiggled. It continued for a couple seconds, then it stopped. “The other
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