TARN & BECK by Roger Nickleby Read Free Book Online

him.
    Meanwhile, the wizard raised his staff again and started chanting a spell, then aimed his staff at one of the coach’s rear axles. A magical blast of flame arched through the air toward the axle.
    The rear axle, hit by this blast of fire, cracked, nearly shearing off one of the coach’s wheels, which was hanging on by a thread. The jolt from the blast and broken axle shook the guard, Beck, and Greg inside the coach cab.
    Beck’s bag fell over, with a couple gold coins spilling out onto the floor. Beck looked back at the bag, horrified and nervous. Greg stared down at the gold coins in greed and astonishment before glaring up at Beck.
    “Beck! You little thief! You rat!”
    Beck shook his head. “I’m not a thief or a rat.”
    Beck aimed the musket out the window and fired. Beck’s bullet found its target in the wizard, who slumped over and fell off his horse, much to Carroll’s horror.
    Carroll growled and now turned to face the coach and Beck leaning out the window, the culprit of the wizard’s death. Beck leaned back into the cab, horrified by his actions as he stared at the musket in his hands.
    Greg pointed at Beck as the guard glanced over at them. “You are a thief! You’re the one responsible for this misery! Those thieves are after you and your gold coins, which you probably stole!” Greg accused.
    Beck stared back down at the gold coins, at a loss for words. “It can’t be true, can it?” Was this really all his fault?
     
    Though shaken by the jolt, the attendants and bandits managed to stay on the coach and continued fighting each other with swords now. The coach had significantly slowed down with the cracked axle dragging.
    One of the bandana-wearing bandits attempted to climb into the coach cab, hanging off of the side of the coach, until the last remaining guard knocked him off. Finally, the coach axle completely fell apart and the wheel tore loose, spinning away.
    Out of control now on three wheels, the coach finally tipped over onto the forest road. The people on top of the coach fell off amidst the luggage and mailbags tumbling all over the place. The coach horses sprang loose from their traces, running away.
    Carroll and his surviving bandits, roughly twenty or fifteen of them, pulled up their horses to a halt, the animals rearing and whining wildly. It was difficult to keep track of them all and count them, especially with the bandanas covering their faces.
    Carroll held up a hand. “Patience! Let’s see what we have here!”
    Close to the turned-over coach, the two surviving attendants and the bandits that fell off the coach moved off to the side. The attendants were held up now, hostage under the bandits’ care. Holding a blunderbuss at the ready, one bandit cautiously approached the overturned coach door and flung open its door.
    “Come out of there if you’re still alive and want to live.” The bandit said.
    Holding up their hands, unarmed with nothing in them, Beck and Greg emerged from the coach cab. They climbed out and landed on the ground under the auspices of the armed bandits.
    The other bandit glanced into the overturned coach cab at the two dead guards, the case of bonds, and the bag of gold coins, with the coins scattered across the ground. “No more survivors. And it looks like the coins are all here!” The bandit said.
    Carroll gleefully laughed and dismounted from his horse. He shoved his way forward and climbed into the overturned coach.
    Standing off to the side with his hands still raised amongst the other prisoners, Beck winced as he realized that they were after him and the coins. It wasn’t a coincidence at all, but how was it possible? Greg glared at Beck.
    “I hope you’re happy. Now we’re all dead because of you.” Greg said.
    “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Beck insisted as one of the bandits, still wearing his bandana, stood directly behind him, guarding him. “I didn’t steal the coins. How could they have known I had them? What is going