The Shieldbreaker Collection

By Ty Johnston

Lerebus Shieldbreaker is a warrior with no past and no future. His family is no more, his clan slain while he is a boy. Trained as a hunter, he hides among mountains, tracking those he believes responsible.

Befriending and ultimately serving a one-time enemy in a prince, Lerebus finally finds a chance to avenge his people, but the price is the attentions of Lord Verkain, the mad wizard king of Kobalos.

For Verkain has use of Lerebus's talents, magical skills beyond even those of the most powerful of mages. With such powers, Lerebus can hunt down any man across any land and even across time itself.

Enslaved by the mad wizard king, Lerebus finds himself sent back thousands of years to discover the whereabouts of an ancient figure, the godlike being known as Bayne kul Kanon.

Originally a five-part e-book series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ty Johnston
• Release date: Jul 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301490455

Ty Johnston

Originally from Kentucky, Ty Johnston is a former newspaper journalist. He lives in North Carolina with loving memories of his late wife.Blog: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

Book preview

The

SHIELDBREAKER

Collection

Collecting all 5 parts of the Shieldbreaker series

The Ursian Chronicles

by Ty Johnston

a Monumental Works Group author

Copyright 2013 by L. M. Press

visit the author’s website: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

sign up for the author’s newsletter: tinyletter.com/TyJohnston

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

for Raymond

You know those DVD extras?

Sure you do. The behind-the-scenes footage. The voice overs. The extra scenes. That’s sort of what you’re holding in your hands, only from a literary perspective.

No, this collection isn’t a non-fiction collection about writing. This is fiction, five stories of various lengths concerning my Lerebus Shieldbreaker character. Lerebus has been a minor character in several of my novels, and I have more plans for him in the future. I’ve always known about Lerebus’s past, but none of that seemed to fit into any of my novels. So, I decided to put together a five-part e-book series containing various parts of Lerebus’s personal story, how he came to be who he is, how a somewhat barbaric Jorsican youth who lost his family came to play various roles in important, historical events of my world of Ursia. What you are holding is the collected version of that five-part series.

Lerebus rarely plays the hero, though he’s not a villain, either. And though he’s a trained, experienced fighter with some special talents, he doesn’t always win. He isn’t a superman figure. If anything, he’s perhaps somewhat tragic.

But that’s putting the apple before the horse. I hope you enjoy this collection of tales of Lerebus Shieldbreaker, the first of which is one of my oldest pieces of fantasy writing.

One last word, and then I’ll leave you to your reading. Right here, I’m giving you a SPOILER alert. Some of the events in the last story have already been written about in some of my other works, specifically the novel Under the Mountain: Part III of The Sword of Bayne. The tale here is not an exacting repeat of that novel, but shows Lerebus’s point of view of some events as well as including other behind-the-scenes happenings, events only alluded to in Under the Mountain. I feel it only fair I make readers aware of this.

Table of Contents

Part I: Road of the Sword

Part II: An End to Rage

Part III: Betrayal of the Self

Part IV: The Slave Pits of Mogus Potere

Part V: Following Bayne

Part I: Road of the Sword

1,977 years After Ashal (A.A.)

The stock of the crossbow to his right shoulder, the yellow-haired boy could see the deer’s head above the arrow he stared down.

The animal was a wonderful creature, muscled and regal with its steps. Its horns sprouted far and wide atop its head, the tips sparkling from dew in the morning sun making it appear as an oversized crown for a king.

Careful, whispered a husky voice behind the boy. You only have the head. Wait for it to step from behind the tree, then you will have a better shot at its heart.

The boy did as he was told.

But the deer moved no further. It stood there, its slanted eyes wide in the way of its kind and its black nose testing the air.

It could smell them, both boy and man were sure. The deer was not as dumb a creature as many thought. It smelled them, but could not see them for the animal was not know to have great sight and the boy and man were hidden behind a large, split pine.

One of the creature’s legs came up slowly.

The boy’s hand tightened on the handle of the crossbow.

Not yet, the man said.

The leg came forward as did a few inches of the animal’s white breast.

Not yet, the man repeated.

Another leg lifted. It, too, came down as the deer moved forward and more of its chest appeared around the edge of the tree.

The boy’s head lowered even further to site along the body of the bow, the lashes of his right eye almost resting on the arrow’s fletchings.

The buck’s head spun in their direction.

Now, the man’s rough voice whispered.

The boy yanked on the crossbow’s bar.

The bolt darted through the air, seeking the heart of its prey.

But too late.

The deer vaulted forward. The arrow caught it low in the side. The animal squealed and kicked at the air, spinning its body around.

The boy jumped from behind his tree and dropped the crossbow. He yanked a long, bone-handled knife from his leather belt.

No! the large man commanded, putting a hand on the youth’s shoulder. You do not attack an animal with a blade.

The boy looked up in time to doge the deer’s antlers as the beast charged into them.

The large man, dressed in wolf skins, fell backward. As he hit the ground, one of his massive hands reached out and entwined the shaft of the long spear he had left there.

The deer jumped and spun in the air again, its pain driving it to ferocity.

The boy backed further, seeing how useless was his own weapon against the mad beast.

The man stood then, the spear before him, its sharpened head pointing at the deer’s heart.

The animal stopped its convulsions and came face to face with eyes almost as mad as its own.

Come at me, then, the man said, jabbing his spear forward with his right hand while motioning for the deer to attack with his left.

The animal pawed at the ground and lowered its head like a bull ready to charge.

The boy’s breath halted as he watched the spectacle of man against beast.

Come on, you bastard, the man said between clenched teeth.

The deer charged. Its front hooves dug into the ground one last time before launching the creature forward, horns to the front.

The man waited until the last possible moment, then pounced to his right, stabbing out with the spear.

The blade bit deep, catching the animal in the chest just behind its front legs.

There was an explosion of dirt and leaves as the creature’s heavy body crashed into the ground between the man and boy. The body came to a halt, the spear protruding from its still side.

That is how you kill a buck the hard way, the man said as he drew a long curved knife from the belt around his waist, the white of a smile showing between the dark brown hair surrounding his lips.

The boy was still in shock. He slowly took in a breath as he felt the heart in his chest slowing. You ... you killed it, with your bare hands.

The man knelt beside the dead creature, pulling his spear free before rolling the body over. No, he said, looking at the boy through the long, curled locks hanging in his face. I did not kill it with my bare hands. I killed it with my spear.

The blonde-haired lad shuffled forward. He noticed he still had his knife in his hand and sheathed the small weapon. But still, you killed it at close range.

The large man thrust his knife low into the deer’s white-furred stomach and cut up slowly,. That is why I carry a spear when hunting. He grunted at the strain of sawing through the tough skin. "A blade isn’t a hunting weapon. A sword or knife is a weapon for killing men.

Now get your crossbow and the rope we left behind the tree. I’ll clean the deer as much as possible, but I don’t want to have to carry the whole damned beast all the way home.

The boy did as he was told, gathering their equipment and packing what he could. When he was finished with that chore, he began to tie rope around the front hooves of the dead buck.

The man tossed the innards to one side and wiped his forehead with a sleeve of fur.

Why isn’t the blade a good hunting weapon? the boy asked several minutes later, breaking the silence that had settled upon them.

Cleaning his knife on the dead animal’s back, the man grunted and stood, putting away the knife. A knife or sword doesn’t work well against beasts. An animal is too stupid to know you can kill it. That’s why animals always charge, because they want to kill you. They don’t realize you can hurt them. A spear is a long weapon that keeps the creature away from you, so you can stand back and stab at it.

And the sword? the boy asked as he finished tying the forelegs and the head together.

The sword is a weapon for fighting men, the man said, grunting as he picked up the loose end of the rope and began to drag the deer through the forest. A man knows you can hurt him, but he needs to get in close to hurt you, too. A sword is a better weapon against a man because it is all weapon, unlike the spear. A man is smart enough to know he can knock aside the head of a spear, or chop it off, and then come in for the kill. The sword, being metal along its whole length, and sharp, keeps a man at bay.

The boy followed behind. You seem to know what you are talking about.

The man hesitated in his steps, but was soon dragging again. I’m a hunter, he said. I don’t kill for kings or gold. I only kill to fill my belly and that of my family.

But you keep a sword at home.

The men hesitated again as if the youth’s words had stung, but still he kept pulling the dead animal. That is for protection. I know how to use it if I have to, but I prefer not to have to.

Have you ever had to use it, father?

The man came to a complete halt. He dropped the rope and turned to face his son. Lerebus, I am not a man who lies often, though I will not be a hypocrite and say I have never lied. So, I will tell you the truth, and that truth is ... yes, I have used my sword. But that was long ago and I was much younger. I had not even met your mother.

The boy also came to a stop and looked down at the sheathed knife on his belt, then stared up into his father’s eyes.

The man looked back into his son’s gaze and felt a mixture of raw emotions flowing through him. He could see the stern and adventurous side of his son in those gray orbs that gave a brief glimpse of what Lerebus would look like as a man in five or more years.

Will you show me how to use the sword? the boy asked.

Lerebus’s father was so taken back by the question, he took a step back.

Will you, father?

The man slowly nodded. If it is what you want.

A thin grin grew across the boy’s lips.

But we are hunters now, the man said. I have learned a few things in this life, and one of them is that it is better to be a hunter or farmer than to be a warrior. Warriors know only misery. I would hope you would take lesson from me and become a hunter yourself.

The grin remained on the boy’s face as he did not hear the further ramblings of his father.

The man growled as he lifted the rope once more, shifted the weight he pulled and his eyes took to the sky.

It was then he saw the heavy black smoke in the distance. He stopped his trudging.

Lerebus noticed his father’s hesitation and looked up to see the rolling plumes of darkness. The village.

The deer was dropped a second time. Lerebus’s father was already at a full sprint, jumping over rocks and dodging tree limbs, his spear at his side before the boy was able to follow.

Stay back! His father yelled as he continued forward, the tawny muscles in his legs carrying him faster and faster like a racing horse.

Lerebus would have disobeyed, but it was then he first heard the screams and the clanging sounds of metal upon metal. He came to a standstill and witnessed the fur-shrouded back of his father escaping through the greenery ahead.

The man was soon gone as the boy stood there and listened for the first time to the sounds of battle. He had killed animals upon occasion while hunting and was used to their screeches of pain at the point of slaying, but it was nothing as compared to the shrieks and moans coming from ahead of him.

His legs became numb and would not move. His hands hung at his sides, the fingers quaking. Fear was not a sensation Lerebus was familiar with; shock and surprise, yes, but not true fear.

The peal of metal striking metal soon came to an end, but was followed by the cracking sound of flames that had grown high enough in the air Lerebus could see yellow tips oscillating above the tree tops. The screaming and moaning also were finished, and for the first time Lerebus could hear the huffing noises of horses at heavy work.

His legs moved him forward then. Fear had held him motionless for long, painful minutes, but the panic in his heart had quickly been exchanged for worry.

He ran with as much strength as he could. His legs pumped up and down as he lengthened his strides into leaps.

It ended quickly. He jumped a narrow creek bed, landed on wet leaves, and his feet betrayed him. He tumbled backward, slamming into the rocky wetness of the creek. His elbows stopped his fall, smashing into the flat stones beneath the shallow water. Pain engulfed his mind, his vision turning black momentarily before his pupils expanded and brought the green of the forest back to him.

He lay there taking in slow breaths, staring into the bits of yellow sky he could see above the dark pines. He could feel the broken remains of the crossbow beneath him where it had been strapped to his back.

Lerebus!

It was his father.

Lerebus!

He sat up, the pain in his arms ignored, and looked around, straining to hear.

Run, boy!

The voice was coming from the left, Lerebus decided. He pulled himself to the side of the creek and squatted behind heavy bushes.

Lerebus, go! Get away!

He had never heard his father’s voice in such a way. It was a voice filled with more than fear. It was filled with panic and terror, with doom.

Lerebus climbed into the bushes and looked to the west to glimpse his father’s running figure.

The man was not going full speed as he had when he had left the boy. He was still moving fast, but there was a limp to his step.

As he drew nearer to his son’s hiding spot, Lerebus could make out the red splattered on the front of the furs his father wore, and that the man still carried his spear.

The boy almost cried out then. The vast shadow that suddenly loomed over his father stopped him.

It was an image from a nightmare come alive that was above the man. The creature appeared to be a black war horse, but it was much too large to be such. Ram-like horns protruded from the sides of its head and its red eyes danced as if filled with flame. Gray smoke poured from between the monster’s pointed teeth as the beast lunged forward.

The animal jumped into the air, its cloven hooves crashing into the dirt only yards from Lerebus’s running father when