A Thousand Wounds: Book II of The Sword of Bayne

By Ty Johnston

Bayne kul Kanon has passed the mountain, but now the wandering warrior finds another world opening before him. Odd lands, odd people and the oddest of rules and beliefs confront him.

It is a world seemingly run by a madman, yet it might hold truths about the secrets of Bayne's past, present and possibly even his future.

Facing new oddities in strangely-garbed forest bandits, soldiers and guards with unusual weapons, and even a precocious child, Bayne never halts in his quest for truth.

And his quest for a woman who might hold the key to his far past, a history of which he has had no recollection.

But once he discovers the truth, will it be more than he can handle? Will it be more than he bargained for?

For with knowledge of his past comes pain. Old pains and new, fresh pains. A thousand wounds of pain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ty Johnston
• Release date: Jan 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458086471

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

A Thousand Wounds

Book II of The Sword of Bayne

by Ty Johnston

Copyright 2011 by L. M. Press

for Offutt and Saberhagen

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.

Dear reader

Thank you for taking the time, and shelling out some change, to read this novella. A Thousand Wounds is the second part of a three-part series of novellas collectively titled The Sword of Bayne. The first part is titled Bayne’s Climb and the third Under the Mountain.

This series is somewhat experimental, utilizing and mixing together allegorical fiction, epic fantasy, Sword & Sorcery and a touch here and there of literary fiction. I hope this mixture works. You the reader are the final judge.

Also, for those of you familiar with The Kobalos Trilogy and the adventures of my Kron Darkbow character, The Sword of Bayne takes place in the same world, but nearly two thousand years before the events of The Kobalos Trilogy. Bayne’s tale, as well as those of Kron Darkbow, are part of a longer saga, what I think of as my Ursian chronicles.

22 years After Ashal (A.A.)

Part I: The Mountain

The cave’s opening was like the maw of a dragon, wide and dark inside with jagged stones hanging from above as if giant teeth ready to bite down. Even outside the cave the grass was a wilted gray, lending to the notion of the fetid breath of a beast having blown forth.

Bayne kul Kanon shifted the heavy sword on his chain-clad back. It was not like this before.

The other figure on the wide lip of the mountain ledge moved around his larger companion to better see the mouth of the cave. The wind, cold this high among the mists of the clouds, played with the fellow’s plain brown robes, sending the edges of his garb dancing. He stood there next to his comrade, his shivering arms wrapped in front of himself.

Bayne, more than a head taller than his companion, crossed his muscular arms in front of his broad chest and continued to stare at the cave. The day’s sun, though weakened through the gray clouds surrounding the mountain, still found a hole to punch through and glint off Bayne’s pale dome. It was not like this before, the big man repeated.

The robed figure continued to quake. What has changed?

Bayne noticed his companion’s condition. Priest, you are freezing. Let us build a fire.

The robed man known as Pedrague nodded his approval and soon the two were at work putting together a small camp. There were plenty of dried branches along the mountainside trail, but the priest had to settle on a handful of old, oiled clothes taken from his shoulder bag for kindling. Bayne retrieved a piece of steel and a shard of flint from a small pocket within his belt, and within a few seconds had struck up a camp fire surrounded by round stones. Minutes later, after a helping of fallen, broken tree limbs, the blaze had grown sizable and brought warmth and a line of black smoke to the mountain’s ledge.

Pedrague, leaning near the flames with his hands extended, was no longer shivering. A smile glazed his features.

You are well satisfied? Bayne asked.

I am, Pedrague said.

Good. Bayne turned his back on his associate to study further the cave entrance, his heavy gaze intent upon staring into the darkness as if he expected someone to come forth.

The priest stood straight but kept his hands extended. To the big man’s back he said, You mentioned there had been changes.

Bayne nodded and pointed to the right and then the left. The ledge had stretched around both sides of the mountain. To our right was where her camp had been, where I last saw her and her sisters. There was no path to this point, as there is now, and I had been forced to drop to the road below.

You are sure this is the place?

I am.

And you still insist Valdra was not an illusion?

Bayne glanced over a shoulder at his friend, his gaze harsh.

Pedrague looked away. My apologies. I know she meant something to you.

The swordsman turned back to the cave once more and stared into that dark pit. In truth, he could not say what Valdra meant to him. They had but shared a handful of moments together. But in her Bayne had seen something, a spark of life, a willingness to struggle, that he found missing in other women, other mortals. After leaving her days earlier to continue his pursuit of a mad wizard, he had often thought of returning to find her. Images of Valdra had sprang forth strong in his mind, and once he had climbed to the top of the mountain and found the wizard and dealt with him, he had set a goal of returning to her in hopes of friendship and perhaps more.

Bayne kul Kanon was a lonely man, if he even was a man. His not knowing his own mind, his own memories and origin, only added to his loneliness.

Pedrague walked around behind his friend and planted a hand on the big man’s shoulder. If she exists, we will find her. Now come, and warm yourself by the fire.

Bayne showed no sign of needing physical warmth, yet he came about and moved closer to the flames, squatting next to them and rummaging through a pack he had dropped there. Soon he pulled out two solid sticks of wood, the ends wrapped in more strips of the priest’s oil cloth.

Pedrague had reclined on the grassy ground opposite the fire, staring across at the much bigger man. You plan to enter the cave. It was not a question.

Yes.

The priest looked up to a darkening sky. It will be night soon. Do you not think we should wait until morning?

No.

Bayne stood and struck one of the makeshift torches into the fire, the stick instantly catching blaze on its free end, the smoke oily and inky rising from it.

He looked to his friend. I would wish you to wait for me.

Pedrague climbed to his feet, surprise written in his features. I’m not coming with you?

Bayne shook his head. All of this is different than what was before. There is heavy magic involved. I want you out here where you can spell my way out if I should need you to.

The cleric grinned. There was little chance Bayne would run across something with which he could not cope physically. The man was as strong as ten men, and had slain thousands in battle in a single night. His bones were like iron, and his flesh healed from wounds faster than one could stitch them. Bayne had faced down gods, practically being one himself. There was little to be concerned about when it came to this man.

How should I know if you need me? Pedrague asked.

You are the one with magic, Bayne said with a grim smile. You figure it out.

The grin fell from Pedrague’s face.

Wait no longer than three days, Bayne went on. If I have not returned by then, most likely I will not.

The big man turned to enter the cave.

Bayne! the priest called out.

The warrior looked back over a shoulder.

The face of his friend was pensive, concerned. You don’t know if she exists, let alone if she’s in there. It’s possible this isn’t even the right place.

I know, Bayne said, but I must find out.

Then he walked forward with the lit torch extended, the other quickly stuffed into his belt as he disappeared into the gloom of the cave.

With just a few steps, Bayne was almost in total darkness but for the glow of his flaming light. The outside world, just behind him, seemed to dim and fade. Looking back, he could still make out the grayness of the ledge and the clouds beyond, but the view was weak as if thick, dark glass were between him and the mountainside. Of Pedrague and the camp fire, there was no sign.

Very well, he said to himself. Despite his companionship with the priest of Ashal, Bayne had spent most of his known existence alone and wandering. Today would be no different. He turned his back once more on the outside and plodded ahead into the depths.

The way forward proved easy enough to traverse. His torch showed the way, and it was straight with a slight slope leading down. The natural roof above was mere inches above the big man’s head, but that did not bother him, especially as the walls gave plenty of room to maneuver or swing a sword if needs be. Every so often a stalactite would hang down, but these were thin things that did not bar his passage and merely had to be stepped around.

The sounds were the only truly dreadful part. There were none, other than the plodding of Bayne’s booted feet and his own heavy breathing. Even his torch was silent with no cracklings of flame.

Soon Bayne entered a steady rhythm, his steps paced almost in a pattern. It was dulling work walking and walking, and he should know having done enough of it, though most of that had been above ground. Still, the tomb like quiet was peaceful compared to the often bellicose trappings of the outer world. Here there was just Bayne and the tunnel within the mountain. There were no mortals foolish enough to try to kill him or use him or sell him something.

As he continued forth, his thoughts turned to Valdra. When he had met her, he had been searching for his own past, chasing the mage-emperor Verkanus who had been present when Bayne had gained consciousness nearly a dozen years earlier in the middle of a battlefield.

Conquer for me, the emperor had said, and I will tell you who you are, from where you are.

Bayne had not been able to resist. He had no memory of his life before waking and finding Verkanus before him. Armed and armored, he had stepped onto the battlefield alone, by himself slaying thousands before the wizardly-priest Pedrague had stopped him and convinced him of the emperor’s treachery. Verkanus would not show Bayne his history as Verkanus knew nothing of it.

Thus had begun Bayne’s long hunt for the fleeing mage-king, an emperor defeated and without his empire. Finally, the swordsman had followed his foe to the top of this very mountain. Pedrague had been present, as had a mysterious figure Pedrague had believed to be his very own god, the Almighty Ashal Who Had Walked Among Men.

It seemed foolish now, Bayne realized. The mage known as Ashal had been but a man, and he had been executed by Verkanus two score years earlier. If Ashal had survived somehow, or even managed to return, it would have been through his powerful magics, not because he was a god.

Or was he? Ashal had more than hinted that Bayne and Verkanus were themselves immortal, part of a triumvirate along with Ashal that decided to some extent the fate of mankind. Verkanus was a source of evil. Ashal that of good. Bayne was somehow a neutral element, a balancing element.

In the end, Bayne had crushed Verkanus with his very hands. The emperor had seemed mortal enough then, but his body had soon disappeared once more. With Ashal unable or unwilling to provide the answers which Bayne sought, the big man had moved on with Pedrague, going in search of the woman with the two strange sisters he had met only recently along the mountainside road.

Had any of it been