Read Trial and Glory for Free Online

things, and I’m sure you will too.”
    “You’re probably right.” He knew that when Nareash came at them in full force again, he’d likely have to leave his equipment and join the ranks.
    “Of course I am. Now get ready.”
    * * *
    Kroke lingered in the shadows, watching the game of dice with little interest. He’d rather be sleeping, but given the players, he thought his presence might be needed.
    Fights always seem to break out over the stupidest of things. Foul smelling feet. Months of listening to a man snoring too loudly next to you. He eyed the amount of money changing hands before the next roll. Add coin to short tempers and things can get really ugly.
    Raker let his dice fly. The two small red cubes clacked across the stone. An uproar sounded as they came to a stop.
    A voice rose above the others. “Ain’t no one can roll seven that many times in a row.”
    Raker grinned. “Must be my lucky night.”
    “Ain’t no one that lucky.”
    “You calling me a liar?” asked Raker, standing tall, hand moving to his mace.
    The small crowd gave birth to the burly man who had spoken out. His fingers tickled the hilt of a knife. “Yeah, I’m calling you a liar. And I want my money back.”
    It’s like I’m psychic. Maybe I’ll switch profession and have Krytien make me up a few smoke pellets or something.
    The man with the knife began to circle, inching his way forward.
    “Well, that ain’t gonna—” Raker started.
    “All bets are final,” said Kroke, stepping out of the shadows into the torchlight.
    The burly fellow halted. “This don’t concern you.”
    “Everything concerns me, especially if it’s Hell Patrol related.”
    Raker grinned. “That’s just the way things go sometimes.”
    Kroke looked over his shoulder. “Give him his last bet back.”
    “What?” Raker sputtered. “But you just said all bets are final.”
    “They are. I’m making an exception this once.”
    “Now, why would you—”
    Kroke gave Raker an icy stare that shut the engineer up. He swore, then threw some coins at the man with the knife. He fumbled several and they clinked to the ground. “Don’t think I’ll be so nice again,” said Raker.
    “I ain’t playing with you again,” said the man, scooping up the last silver. He waved a hand. “And if they were smart, neither would they.”
    With the confrontation ended, others who had been in on the game dispersed. Raker cursed them for being chicken, and then cursed Kroke for screwing up what he had going.
    How did Jonrell ever put up with all of us? It’s like babysitting a bunch of children.
    “You done?” he finally asked, realizing the engineer had begun to lose momentum.
    Raker spat. “Yeah, I’m done.”
    And just like a bunch of children, you can’t leave them feeling wounded.
    “Good.” He pulled out a money pouch. “Because I think your luck is running out.”
    Raker smirked. “You old dog. You did that on purpose just so you could corner me. You must be feeling lucky.”
    “Maybe.”
    I just don’t care that much if I lose it. Still, there is the principal of it all.
    Kroke brought up his other hand. “However, I thought we’d try a set that Krytien hasn’t tampered with.”
    “Only if I get two to one odds.”
    “What?”
    “It’s only fair. You’ve got two hands to my one.”
    Kroke shook his head. “Fine. But I’m keeping track of the bets. I’m not falling for your fuzzy math.”
    Raker shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s all coming to me anyway.”

Chapter 4
     
    Nareash and the other attendees turned as Guwan threw the tent flap open. The Kifzo’s wide nostrils flared with each intake of breath. Thick cords of muscle flexed at his neck. He whipped his head to the right, braids swinging. In two long strides, he grabbed the underside of a nearby table, flipped it over, and kicked an overturned bowl of fruit across the space.
    Amusing.
    “General, I trust your men have their orders for the rest of the day?” asked Nareash,