Welcome to TRB Lounge! We’re thrilled to host author Robert A. Walker today, who will be unveiling an intriguing excerpt from their new series, The Legends of Baelon. Dive in and get an exclusive sneak peek into the intriguing world they’ve crafted in their latest work!

About the Book

Excerpt

Sibil Dunn

By mid-morning, they were deep in what Gradi repeatedly referred to as “the wicked woods,” surrounded by coniferous evergreens, patches of smokewood, and masses of joining trees so closely knit the sun could not find the forest floor. Overhead, the only visible patch of sky mirrored the trail they followed, like a ribbon of blue framed by the tips of tall trees on either side. 

Warm air enveloped them, prompting conservation of movement. Their horses plodded along, side by side, hooves nearly silent on a carpet of duff.The lush forest undergrowth captured other noises, quickly suffocating them. But each snap of a twig, every rustle of dried leaves, reminded Sibil that the bortok thought itself the king of the Dark Woods, and its subjects all fair prey.  

There was little in the landscape to spark interest, or to distinguish one stretch of trail from the next, until the sudden appearance of a fork in the road.

“Corpse’s Choice?” she asked.

Gradi nodded. “Decision time. You’re sure you won’t turn back?”

Before she could answer, the old man raised a hand, suggesting she stay silent. What sounded like the faint patter of rain caused her to look back down the trail, her gaze fixed there until three bare-chested riders turned a corner into view.

The biggest of them, a heavy, burly man, sat atop his horse like a large soup kettle. Or is he half beast? Thick, dark hair covered his bare arms and chest. A dozen or more coarse braids dangled past his shoulders, a few resting on his untrimmed beard. A string of white shells encircled his neck. Two leaner riders followed, their faces hidden from Sibil’s view until Black Braids stopped his mount to gawk at her and Gradi. His companions sidled next to him, one bald with a square, clean-shaven face and sunken eyes; the other was clearly younger than his counterparts, despite his scraggly beard. Even sitting in the saddle doing nothing, he appeared wild-eyed and agitated. 

Just the type one might expect to inhabit the Dark Woods!

Wherever they were headed, the leader seemed in little hurry. Black Braids cast a look at Corpse’s Choice before cultivating his interest in Sibil. The way he stared reminded her of the king’s steward, and she glared back at him. He would have to do or say something especially pleasant in the very near future to change her first impression of him. 

He spat into the woods. “Lost, are you?” His bald companion circled slowly behind Gradi. The youngest, all too interested in Sibil, coaxed his mount so close to Shadow the two horse’s flanks rubbed against one another. Sibil’s hand crept inside her shirt.

“Listen to me, friend.” Gradi leaned forward in his saddle to capture Black Braids’ attention. “Where we’re going is of no concern to you.” The words came slowly, as though meant to be digested just as carefully. “But as I can see what’s on your mind, I’m going to do you a favor and tell you what you need to know. The young lady is to be received by someone of importance. I’m not at liberty to say just who has sent for her, but given our location and the direction of our travel, I think that you might guess. If she does not arrive when expected, and in sound condition, whoever is to blame for that will live just long enough to regret his actions a thousand times over.” 

“Is that right?” Black Braids snorted. “Someone special, is she? And yet…” His eyes spent a few moments studying Gradi and his rusted sword. “Whoever waits for her trusts the likes of you to protect her?” 

 “I’m not here to protect her,” Gradi said. “I’m merely her escort, and that should tell you something about the degree of trouble we are expected to encounter from others. You could easily dispense with me, no doubt. Just know that would offend the one who waits for her. She’s not to be touched. Not by me. Not by anyone. No one in their right mind would dare.” 

One of Black Braids’ little fingers barely twitched, but its message was as clear to Sibil as it was to its intended audience. The youngest rider removed his hand from Shadow’s rump.

Gradi cleared his voice. “You’ve been warned.”  

Clearly weighing options, Black Braids tried a different tack. “You don’t say. Perhaps whoever’s waiting for her would appreciate our joining you. Might they not be grateful for our protection?”

“They would not,” came Gradi’s curt response. “I’m to report any contact or unpleasantness upon our arrival. I trust I shan’t have to mention you, and that we’ll not cross paths again.” One of Black Braids’ nostrils began to twitch. Gradi’s expression did not waver. “I’ll close my eyes for a silent count of ten, shall I? And when I open them, I’ll pretend you were never here.”

Sibil’s fingers curled around the hilt of her knife. Her heart pounded as Gradi’s eyelids lowered. 

Black Braids gave her a last look, and she returned it impassively. He spat toward the ground before digging his heels into his horse’s ribs. “Hyah!” All three riders took the left fork and trotted out of sight.

Sibil’s hand relaxed.

Gradi opened his eyes, and for a long moment, he just stared at her. “We’ll stay put for a bit, and let them put some distance between us, shall we?” Sibil nodded. “Though I seriously doubt they’ll trouble us further.”

“You’re shaking,” Sibil said.

“Am I?” Gradi held a hand out and watched it tremble. “So I am.”

“That was…” Sibil struggled to find the right words. 

Gradi gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, it was.” He exhaled a heavy breath. “But I know the type.”

“Which is to say?” asked Sibil.

The old man smiled. “There are men whose courage is bound to their heart. It’s as much a part of them as any limb or bone. You cannot tame it, nor can they, not even in the face of certain death. It’s in their blood, you see, and will remain there until the last drop is spilled.” 

Like Rolft, wounded and unarmed, challenging the knife-wielding “cat” to attack him during the celebration of Six Moons!

“These were a different breed,” Gradi said. “Their courage comes and goes like water from their bodies. If they think they hold the high ground or sense a weak opponent, they drink it in and swell like a sponge. But if they sense the slightest threat or danger, their courage leaks from them as easily as sweat or piss until there’s nothing left. A baby lamb could be attacking them, but if they’re made to believe it is a bortok, if they see it as a bortok, they’re going to run and hide.”

“What told you they were this breed?” 

Gradi shrugged. “It was a gamble, to be sure. What I could see without a doubt was their intent. What else was I to do?”

Sibil nodded slowly. “I see.” 

“You know the kind of man I’m talking about?”

“I do. And now I know the kind you are as well.” She tilted her head toward the left fork of Corpse’s Choice. “Shall we?”

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About The Author

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