A Warrior's Redemption (The Warrior Kind) by Guy Stanton III Read Free Book Online

forces of nature! It can only help our fight for freedom to have anoth er Ta’lont in the field of battle with us!”
    Ta’lont? Was that my real last name? I wanted to ask this man so many things. He had known my father in a way I had never known, but there was simply no time to ask what I desired to. I moved quietly out into the cool still grayness of the early morning.
    I heard him saying something before I was out of earshot, “Dear Lord, it looks like my time is nearly up here. Protect my boy and keep him safe. I love him so much. His mother and I have………”
    The rest of what he said was lost to me as I was out of earshot now.
     
    I had scouted out the city yesterday and I remembered the street intersection the spy had spoken of. It wasn’t far from here.
    The streets were empty of life other than that of the night critters that dug in the alleyways in search of scraps that had been thrown there from the day before. Reaching the inter section I saw a row of large planter pots going up Rassian St just as the spy had said there would be. The report was in a false bottom of one of these pots the spy had said. I came up alongside of the first pot and tapped the porcelain outer shell of the flower pot near the bottom with the butt of a knife, but no echo resounded from it. I continued up the row of pots, with no luck at finding the hollow bottomed pot.
    My studied calm began to crack as there where at least fifty or more pots to go and it was getting lighter with every passing second and with it the likelihood of getting caught. Maybe the spy had lost it and there were no reports in a hollow bottomed pot after all. Maybe they only existed in his cracked imagination. Sweat had started to bead on my fore head and it ran into my eyes. A light had come on here and there; it wouldn’t be long now before I was noticed!
    I started to walk away, when I saw the house number, Rassian St. thirty one. Having an idea suddenly I skipped ahead to the pot outside the boy’s house. Grabbing my knife, from my waist band I tapped the pot with the haft of the knife. Dong! Excited I swung the haft of the knife again like a hammer against the pot’s side and the sound of braking pottery echoed loudly up and down the street, but no body seemed to have heard it. An oil skin pouch lay in the hollow cavity of the underside of the pot and in it I found the spy’s documents. I stuffed the oil skin pouch inside my shirt and made my way towards the door of the house.
    I knocked briskly on the door and it opened almost im mediately surprising me by the suddenness of the action. A middle aged woman stood before me with worry lines creased across her face as she studied me. I repeated the words that the spy had given me and nodding she turned and called to someone behind her. A boy stepped past her to stand in front. The woman gave him a tight hug, kissed him on the head and then shut the door quickly, as tears streamed out from the corners of her eyes. The boy turned away from the closed door to face me. The boy was a sturdy looking one and he bore the pack on his back well.
    “When do I see my father?” He asked almost immediate ly with an earnest eagerness.
    I shook my head stiffly and said, “He’s not coming with us.”
    “I see.” The boy said softly.
    He looked away from me ducking his head down as he did so. It was growing lighter by the second. We needed to get out of here before the changing of the guard at the jail took place and they closed the cities’ gates.
    “We need to go, follow me quickly and as silently as you can. Can you ride a horse?”
    “Yes, a little anyway.” He said lifting his head back up and I pretended to not see the moistness gathered in the corners of his eyes.
     
    We were miles away from the city, when I looked back and saw the first signs of pursuit in the distance. From then on our lives had been one of constant action, as we moved northward in an irregular manner as I alluded the pursuit that had