Stone Warrior: The Wanderer, #1

By Avery Christy

From the award-winning author Avery Christy, comes a new series set in the Mountain Lords universe, following the journeys of Thurgan Stonebrow.

The Empress has banned mercenary companies, putting Thurgan Stonebrow out of work after ten years of fighting other people's battles. Before he can fully consider his next move, Thurgan agrees to help a young Rodoan woman to reach her family. But there is nothing easy in this act of kindness, as the journey brings Thurgan and his growing band of companions into the middle of a fight for survival between nations.

Lady Pannek, the ruler of the land of Surigard, is besieged by hired raiders led by the savage Bruimar, and the armies of the Empire and its minions who seek to destroy her and her nation. Knowing of Thurgan's prowess on the battlefield, she names him general of the Red Legion in the desperate hope he can lead Surigard to victory against its enemies.

But how can one man with one little army win against the power of an empire on so many fronts? Even with the help of friends and allies, this may very well be the final battle for Thurgan, and the fall of Surigard!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avery Christy
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223289081

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Stone Warrior

By Avery Christy

Stone Warrior

Copyright © 2023 by Avery Christy

Notice of Rights

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—withoutthe prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in thecase of brief quotations embodied incritical articles or reviews.

Book Design by Sunflower Creations

Cover art by BrokenCandleBookDesigns

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental or a product of the reader’s imagination.

Published by High Mountain Books

For all the men who desire to be men:

You are the stone; never cease to be worked

A map of a village Description automatically generated

Table of Contents

Prologue: A Conspiracy is Born

The Battle at Grove Draw

A Queen’s Offer

The Decree

Cold Night

Getting Into Motion

Mercenary Friends

Dust on the Horizon

The Neme Neai

Song Rising to Float Among Stars

Biscuit

The Harrowing of Verment

Remembering the Fallen

Making A Promise

Under Arrest

Shadows of the Night

General Stonebrow

Honor

Siege of Eagles’ Nest

A New Home

The Fall of Eagle’s Nest

The Morning News

Hunting for a Dog and Finding Two

Free the ‘Gan!

Lonely Woods

Red Moon

When Two Stones Collide

Battle for Surigard

The Fires in a Man

To a Far Greener Home

Next in The Wanderer series

Prologue: A Conspiracy is Born

B

regen Dar strode down the long red carpet toward Lord Farma upon his throne. Lord Farma wore no crown, but in all other ways, he had the trappings of a king.

Lord Farma Michelin’s hall was as grand as any lord could build in size, architecture, and artistic trappings. He ruled County Merka and the prosperous trade port of Toga. Almost all trade that flowed between the northern and southern halves of the Mountain Empire passed through Toga, which made both the small city and Lord Farma rich.

Bregen sneered inwardly at it all. The day would come when his hard work to take control of his ancestral land of Surigard would bear fruit, and his hall would be far better than Farma’s.

The attendant who escorted Bregen made a gesture to stop near the dais, then continued alone to whisper in Lord Farma’s ear. Lord Farma nodded, then made a gesture for the attendant and other waiting servants to leave.

​When alone, Lord Farma sat forward in his throne, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers before his clean-shaven chin, his dark eyes studying Bregen. His dark, styled hair held in place as he moved. You’re a hard man to get a message to, Master Dar.

​Bregen schooled his expression, seething that his title should be like a shopkeeper. I was unsure the reason for this summons, Sire. I did not know if you wished to talk or toss me into a dungeon.

​Lord Farma made a dismissive hand wave, Your cousin was Dravis Pannek, who was lost recently in service with the Western Legion, about a year ago, yes?

​Bregen nodded.

​Against his aged father’s wishes, he joined the legions as a knight and, because of his family, became a commander. He believed his service would smooth relations between the Land of Surigard and the Empire.

​Bregen nodded.

​That’s wise. Lord Farma paused. His death, however, broke Lord Pannek’s heart and soon sent him to his own grave. Thus, Lord Pannek’s daughter has inherited the throne of Surigard.

​Lord Farma sat back into his throne, his hands alighting on the padded rests and his expression thoughtful. That may be permissible by ancient Surigard law, he said in a placating tone. Then his tone changed as though speaking of a disobedient child, but it is not permissible by Imperial Law. You and your younger brother are the next men in the family line, so by Imperial Law, that throne should be yours, am I right?

​Bregen’s ire had risen during Lord Farma’s accurate assessment of his family’s events, not because of Lord Farma, but because of being reminded of this intolerable situation.

But his emotions were soothed with the question of why was Lord Farma taking an interest—he had previously shown none that Bregen was aware of. Bregen knew Lord Farma was a devout bootlicker of the Imperial Throne if ever there was one—his banner had three golden rings representing the three branches of the Imperial government. Lord Farma was also of the wealthy Michelin family, the patriarch of which was one of the four High Council members who advised the Empress.

As the old saying goes, the spoiled child can get away with murder, and Lord Farma put that axiom to the test. He ruled Toga and Merka County like a king. True, many county lords ruled their domains like that.

Perhaps, if Lord Farma was concerned with what was right regarding the Surigard throne, then there was some advantage to Bregen. That is right, Sire. Bregen waited for Lord Farma to reveal his mind.

​"I heard you have taken some actions against the current state of affairs, riding around with a band of friends and causing trouble for your cousin."

​Bregen had the sense to not admit to it. Banditry was illegal in the Empire no matter what the reasons.

​Oh, we can talk freely here. Lord Farma reassured, waving a dismissive hand at his empty hall. This conversation is between us and the ears of the Holy Family.

​I wonder, Sire, the reason for your interest in this matter? Bregen ventured, although he was beginning to have a good guess, and the reason was likely not against him.

​Lord Farma smiled indulgently, You and I have a common dilemma, Master Dar. Well, you and I and the royal throne. The former Lord Pannek and his son were devout patriots to their ancient kingdom, now centuries in the dust. But they were level-headed diplomats as well. They knew when to keep silent or to compromise on their beliefs. But your cousin, Erina, is the firebrand of the family. She does not keep silent nor compromise, and with her father and brother gone, there is no restraining her, is there?

​Bregen guessed that either Lord Farma had spies in Surigard, or the imperial throne did, to know such intimate information. Yes, she is a proud and willful creature, to say the least.

​Lord Farma chuckled, "Creature? Good; all the easier to kill a creature. He turned somber, If the new Lady Pannek followed in her father’s footsteps, she would be a problem easily ignored. But she claps the spear and shield of Surigard a little too loudly for the tastes of the Throne. They have encouraged me to find a solution. So, tell me about your band of friends."

​Bregen smiled as apprehension turned to tingling joy. Now he saw clearly where Lord Farma was leading. They are the dregs of the earth, my Lord. Criminals, bandits, drifters …. Most don’t know how to swing a sword or throw a spear to save their life. But they work cheap.

​Well, that sounds sufficient for terrorizing wagons, but they won’t do against Surigard’s impressive military.

​No, my Lord.

​In the near future, there will be many better-trained men available for hire.

​Bregen hesitated, I cannot afford mercenaries, my Lord.

​Lord Farma chuckled, "You apparently do not understand what encouragement means when it comes from the Throne. You will not have to worry about expenses."

​Lord Farma clapped his hands and joyously announced loud enough to draw the servants back into his hall, You will be my guest tonight, and dine with me! We have much to discuss, yes?

The Battle at Grove Draw

A

 trundling line of covered wagons bathed in a cloud of their own dust approached and then dropped down into Grove Draw, where the dirt road rested at a conjunction of four meager creeks. The drivers and draft animals had traveled westward many miles across parched shortgrass prairie from the walled town of Toga, and the sweaty animals brayed and whinnied with relief at the smell of water. The drivers, however, turned this way and that in their seats, seemingly oblivious to the water, to keep a watchful eye on the crests of the surrounding hills.

​The largest creek that fed into Grove Draw snaked lazily in from the north. Its flood plain was already rich with new spring grass. And in the center of that green plain stood a thick copse of wild trees. And in those trees, an armed party watched and waited as the wagons entered Grove Draw and then parked.

​Can we rely on these scouts? General Edmara asked quietly, his lined skin furrowed further as he squinted against the sun to scan the crests of hills.

​My cousin has made several mistakes in his campaign to unseat me from the family throne, Lady Pannek replied in a solid tone that broached no argument, watching the drivers unhitch their mules and oxen then lead them to water and grazing. "A grave mistake was to attack the tribe of the Neme Neai, the Wind People. My allies are better scouts than any you could find, General Edmara."

​Whether they had good scouts or not, Thurgan doubted if this trap would work. The copse of trees was crowded for his tastes. In addition to himself and General Edmara, representing the Prairie Wolves mercenary company, there was their employer, Lady Pannek, the general of her army whom Thurgan only knew as Daydan, and almost ten knights and officers. Lady Pannek’s men wore armor accented in red with helmet crests and shields in the bright red of Lady Pannek’s house. Lady Pannek did not wear armor, but her sensible clothes and cloak were bright red, tinged with gold. Even in the shadows of the trees, Thurgan believed this colorful gaggle stood out like a bonfire. If Lady Pannek’s cousin had any scouts of his own, Thurgan felt sure they would see this lot.

​Thurgan mentally shrugged away his concerns and returned to watching the hills. He doubted anyone would listen if he voiced his concerns. He was a mercenary, paid and ordered to fight whether it came or not; as his mother had said long ago, ‘this wasn’t really his dance,’ and that suited him fine.

​Thurgan wiped sweat from his brow. It was not yet spring, though the days had grown warmer and the land was coming awake from its winter slumber. Thurgan’s sweat was from the nerves of waiting for a battle. He took comfort from the fear and anticipation he felt—he took it as a good sign. An old veteran had once told him that the day he no longer felt fear meant he had held a sword for too long, and death had already paid him a visit.

His hardened leather armor creaked as he adjusted his position sitting up against a tree to ensure his legs did not fall asleep. Unlike the fancy, uniform armor of the Surigard men, Thurgan’s and Edmara’s armor was off the shelf and the best they could afford with their limited resources.

​One of Lady Pannek’s captains, Benara, a man younger than Thurgan by roughly five years, handed Thurgan a small leather canteen. Odd we’re sweating, eh? It’s not hot enough for it.

​Thurgan accepted the canteen, even tinier in his hands, and saluted the captain with it before taking a polite swig. Thurgan wiped his bearded chin with the back of his gloved hand, then returned the canteen. How many fights have you been in?

​Benara tightened his lips and nodded as though recollecting, A few.

​Thurgan assumed the captain’s response was to avoid admitting it was only one or two. Thurgan had been a mercenary for ten years—he recalled exactly thirty-four battles, not counting today. But he would never point to another man’s lack of experience at a time when he needed all the courage he could summon. Thurgan gave the captain a reassuring nod and returned his attention to the land.

​He cannot miss this caravan, Lady Pannek reassured Edmara. My agents were certain to maintain the right level of secrecy regarding its cargo: too obvious, and my cousin would smell the trap. But if he had to work for the information ….

​She trailed off as a bright reflection caught her attention. Light from a tiny mirror in a clump of grass on the crest of a nearby hill blinked in a pattern. He is coming.

​Thurgan squinted against the blinking light, trying to see the man who held it, but he could discern nothing of a human form. He admitted the Wind People were good scouts.

​Thurgan took up his round shield and spear from leaning against the tree and checked his infantry axe tucked into his belt at the small of his back. He loosened his short sword in its scabbard. Around him, the various knights and officers were likewise adjusting for battle.

​Rising dust and the thunder of hooves announced the presence of a band of horsemen before the first of them crested a ridge to the southeast. As if on cue, the wagon drivers and teamsters panicked, running as a disorganized mob up the road, abandoning their parked wagons and animals along the creek.

​More and more horsemen topped the hill, pausing only a moment to survey Grove Draw before rushing down the slope to the wagons. Thurgan counted a few more than fifty.

​There he is, Lady Pannek said in a loud whisper to the men around her. He has taken the bait.

​Many of the horsemen had dismounted and excitedly jumped into the wagons to rifle through the freight. Scared by the commotion, mules broke from their ground tethers and scattered. If Lady Pannek’s misinformation was responsible for bringing the raiders here, they believed there was a fortune in silver and gold hidden in the wagons. Only a few riders had the sense to remain on their horses and stay alert.

​He’s in a wagon! Lady Pannek’s general exclaimed. Give the signal!

​An officer beside the general raised a horn to his lips and gave a long blast that echoed across the Grove Draw.

​A hundred-and-fifty soldiers and archers, a mix of regulars and mercenaries, sprang from camouflaged duck blinds along the four creeks that converged in the Grove Draw. Archers ran into position and poured arrows at the riders. The infantry gathered into small units and jogged toward the enemy.

​Thurgan sprinted from concealment in the copse of trees across the grassy plain, his powerful legs carrying him over old divots from a time cattle grazed here when muddy. He had only gone a few dozen paces when movement to the north caught his attention. He skidded to a halt, his building battle rage checking enough to let him reason. A second band of horsemen was gathering on the crest of a hill. Though roughly half a mile away, he recognized the riders as Admar’s band. The Prairie Wolves had been hired last year to hunt Admar and his raiders across the Wind Divide, though without success.

​Captain Benara slid to a halt next to Thurgan, turning to see what drew his attention. Edmara, with the physique of an officer poorly suited for running, jogged up to a panting halt.

​Who are they? Benara asked, the high, blue-stained horsehair crest of his helmet bobbing as he turned his head back and forth.

​Those are raiders. It seems the Lady’s cousin also sought allies. Go on to the fight. I’ll deal with them.

​"When did you become my officer, mercenary? Benara growled. Let you deal with them alone and leave my Lady in danger?" He barked a laugh, then turned and ran back for the trees.

​The latecomers charged down in a wide spread across the slope.

Thurgan set off in a run, leaving Edmara casting about in indecision. Nothing separated Admar’s band and Lady Pannek’s group but open ground and a ten-foot-wide creek.

​Thurgan reached the edge of the thicket and took a stance with the trees to his back. Admar’s band looked between forty and fifty, doubling the enemy force. Thurgan doubted this pincer attack on Grove Draw was a happy mistake on their part. Admar’s posse appeared at the right time and place to swoop down on Lady Pannek and her little group of officers, who seemed falsely convinced they were hidden. Whatever losses the enemy suffered, if they captured Lady Pannek, her cousin won.

​Admar’s riders splashed through the creek at a trot without slowing, then hitting the last few hundred feet between them and the trees at a full charge, prematurely whooping and yelling to their success.

​Captain Benara planted himself near Thurgan, shield up and spear forward.

​The spread-out riders covered the open field in seconds. A front man arrowed for Thurgan, his arm cocked with a spear ready to cast. Then he threw.

Thurgan did not need to dodge, for the poor toss sent the spear wide by several feet.

Thurgan had the measure of these raiders: they could ride and swing a weapon, but neither they nor their horses were trained for mounted combat. They were good at scaring villagers and wagon drivers, but Thurgan was neither.

As the rider pulled up from his charge to avoid the trees, Thurgan thrust his spear into the man’s side. The spear did not snap, and Thurgan yanked it free, pulling the screaming rider off.

​Thurgan cocked his arm and threw the spear into the chest of the next rider a few yards from him.

​A third rider rode hard in, his spear lowered to skewer Thurgan.

Thurgan grabbed the head and put it into the dirt, which yanked it from the rider’s grip and put him off balance in the saddle. Thurgan pulled his soldier’s axe from behind his back and lept high, swinging the axe’s poll into the rider’s unprotected face.

​Another rider charged in, his longsword expertly sweeping.

Thurgan dropped into a crouch with his shield up. The sword glanced off the shield, going high, then Thurgan popped up and swung his axe blade into the man’s back, cutting through the light protection he wore.

​Then the knights and officers hiding in the trees with Lady Pannek burst forth. They, too, were badly outnumbered and on foot but would not be outdone by a lone mercenary.

The riders, pulling up from their charge because of the trees instead of keeping momentum and swinging left or right, were crowded by their own numbers, thus losing two advantages.

​The knights and officers charged into the riders with a savage war cry, pulling riders off their horses or piercing them in the saddle with spears. The officers bore large rectangular shields and long spears. Riders desperately slapped weapons against the shields and were