Fable: Edge of the World by Christie Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

Captain Jack Timmins. He’s head of His Majesty’s guards.”
    Thorpe saluted smartly, and Timmins returned it. “We knowone another,” Timmins said. He grinned and extended a hand. “Good to hear you’ve rejoined us, Thorpe. We’ll need good soldiers like yourself.”
    “Knew I wouldn’t be seeing you otherwise, Timmins,” said Thorpe. Ben raised a blond eyebrow and shrugged.
    “Well,” he said, “since we’re all such jolly pals, shall we discuss this over a drink?”
    The small tavern that serviced the town was much cheerier and less riddled with bullet holes than Ben remembered it. They were served tankards of frothy ale “on the house” from the barkeep Ben last remembered as holding a sword in his hand and hacking at the Half-breeds. They clinked their mugs, raised a toast to “soldiers and all who value them,” and took a drink.
    Ben got right down to business. All four of them had looked horrors right in the eye as they fought them. There was no need for softening. Russell and Thorpe listened gravely as Ben explained what Shan had told them and what the plan was.
    “So you’re looking for recruits,” said Thorpe finally.
    “Aye, as many as you can spare,” said Timmins. “Ben tells me you all stood together to defend your town.”
    “That’s because it was our town,” said Russell. Ben was surprised. The anxious-to-please youth he remembered was no more. Russell was still amiable, but he certainly had grown up. “And if threat comes to it, we’ll defend it.”
    “Russell,” said Ben, “by the time anything nasty gets to Blackholm, you might not be
able
to defend against it.”
    “Who says anything will even come here?” asked Thorpe. “All I’ve heard is the ravings of a young Samarkandian boy. He might have imagined it all.”
    “Then he must have read my memoirs,” snapped Ben, “because he certainly manages to accurately describe something I’ve fought firsthand!”
    “Something we both have done,” said Timmins.
    Ben had had enough of this. He leaned forward. “Look. Are you in or are you out?”
    They were silent for a moment. Then Russell said slowly, “Ben, you came and helped defend our town when you had absolutely no stake in doing so. I can’t rightfully say that now, when you’re asking our help, we won’t give it to you. Thorpe?”
    Thorpe nodded slowly. “Just so as we’re clear—we’re not sending every strong-limbed youth in the village to Samarkand.”
    “That was never the idea,” said Timmins. “Certainly, some need to stay behind in case the darkness encroaches here. But,” he added, “the greater the force that can be brought to bear where the darkness is strong, the more chance to prevent anything from happening in Albion at all.”
    Thorpe grunted. “We’ll send as many as we can spare,” he said grudgingly. “Though your young monarch better be right about this.”
    Ben had no response to that, so he simply drank.
    The king was proud of his people. Once recruitment got under way, they came to Bowerstone for their assignments on horse, in cart or caravan, or on foot. Some of them had weapons to contribute, or food stores. Others had nothing but the clothes on their backs, a few coppers in their purses, and a willingness to serve.
    The monarch kept expecting Reaver to show up any minute now, offering some new spit-polished weaponry in exchange for something degrading and cruel. But he didn’t, though Reaver Industries—sans child labor these days—was going great guns, as the turn of phrase went.
    Both the King and Queen of Albion were no strangers to themen and women willing to fight. They moved regularly among the tent cities that sprang up around Bowerstone proper, making sure the recruits were as comfortable as possible and keeping up their spirits. Ben undertook training the most raw of them, while Timmins worked on getting an entire army up, running, and on Kalin’s ships.
    Sabine had departed for home but left Boulder behind to