How To Avoid Death On A Daily Basis: Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

Most likely it was the farmer returning with help to take care of the rogue ogre.
     
    We set off down the road, towards the approaching wagon.
     
    “Nobody mention the farm,” I said. “We’re coming straight from Probet, on our way to Fengarad. Don’t offer any other information. If they ask any questions, just say nothing and look confused. I don’t care who these guys are or how great they seem, keep schtum.”
     
    This seemed the safest course of action. Making sure we all kept to the same story was the most important thing, and the best way to do that was to have no story. If there was one thing this group was good at, it was acting dumb.
     
    The others were nervous, but at this point we were all suffering from anxiety fatigue and too exhausted to panic properly.
     
    “Ah hope they ain’t psychos too,” muttered Flossie.
     
    “It’ll be fine,” said Dudley.
     
    “Yeah, fine, fine,” added Maurice.
     
    As we got closer, the first thing that became apparent was the difference between the horses. The two pulling the wagon were small and black, shuffling along with heads drooped. The one with the rider was a golden tan colour with a glorious white mane, and cantered along with its head held high. Even from a distance, its movement looked impressive.
     
    The rider was hard to see properly because he was glinting so much. The late afternoon sun was sinking behind us, and its light reflected off what I assumed was armour.
     
    We continued walking towards them, various scenarios playing in my mind. We just had to exchange pleasantries, keep it short, then move on. No doubt it wouldn’t be that easy—it never was in this place.
     
    It turned out the rider wasn’t in full armour. He was wearing a very cool looking leather get up with metal bands on the shoulders and arms. He had curly blond hair and a huge smile on his face.
     
    “Hey! You alright there?” he yelled at us.
     
    I immediately disliked him. It wasn’t just the fancy horse and the cool leathers, it was the accent.
     
    “Are you Australian?” I called out to him.
     
    “Sure am. You sound like a Brit. I’m guessing you’re the new arrivals.”
     
    The wagon pulled up just ahead of us. The man behind the reins was short and plump with a full beard and a floppy hat. He was smiling too, and certainly didn’t look like the father of a bunch of psychopaths.
     
    The Australian climbed down from his horse and came at me with hand extended.
     
    “The name’s Sonny. Can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you guys.” He shook hands with everyone. We all introduced ourselves.
     
    He was tall, good-looking and built like an athlete. And very Australian. I don’t mean that in a good way.
     
    “This here is my best friend, Nicky.” He rubbed the horse’s nose. “And this is Farmer Angelo.”
     
    He pointed to the farmer who took off his hat to reveal a bald head, which he bowed slightly. “It’s Angalad.”
     
    “Oops, sorry about that, mate. Got a terrible memory for names.” Sonny laughed. “Anyway, you can leave us to it.”
     
    “Are you sure?” asked the farmer.
     
    “No worries. Now that I’ve met up with my new party here, we’ll have your little ogre problem sorted in no time. Right guys?”
     
    “Sorry,” I said, trying to sound confused (not very difficult), “what are you talking about?”
     
    “I’ll explain it all in a minute.” He walked over to the wagon and pulled a bag out of the back and then patted the side.
     
    “Well, good luck!” called out the farmer as he set off. “You know where we are when you’ve finished. There’ll be a slap up dinner waiting for you!”
     
    Sonny hung the bag on his saddle. He gave the farmer an exaggerated wave and then turned to us. “Right then, down to business. You probably have a bunch of questions, and I’m the man with the answers. Got here with my lot four years ago. Didn’t have a clue what was going on back then, but now I know this place