Terry W. Ervin Read Online Free PDF Page A

river and past us, only to return ten minutes later. Each time they came close I froze with my heart racing, prepared to run or fight. Between the patrols I thought about Guzzy, and if he’d be dead if I hadn’t thrown my spear. I gave the ogre the weapon used to kill my own blood. When I tried to forget that, I worried that Road Toad knew I was a healer. I wasn’t sure if Pops Weasel knew, but Road Toad did.
    Pops Weasel had slid into the darkness after consulting with Road Toad. He’d just returned to report, but refrained as goblin voices approached. Pops Weasel’s wide eyes and anxious movements told me that he’d found more than he’d expected.
    A third goblin patrol marched along the river past our position, when a deep growl from our side of the river, sounding like continuous thunder, caught their attention, and ours. As the goblins hurried back to the road we crawled to the edge of the brush.
    The rumbling sound increased. Road Toad spotted its cause first and pointed. “There, see that…” He stopped, at a loss for words.
    “Some sorta siege engine,” Pops Weasel whispered. “Two more further back on the road.” He nudged Road Toad. “Would you say that looks like a long Crusader cannon?” He pointed. “There sticking out of that slanted box on top of the metal wagon. Look at that row of wheels.” Pops Weasel squinted and looked closer. “They’re metal too.” He rubbed his unshaven chin. “With a belt around them. What it’s for?” He shrugged and scratched his neck. “Saw more zombies back up the road than I could count. And a couple companies of ogres.” He looked from Road Toad to me. “Trained and armored for combat, not the wild type you fought.”
    A bugle from across the river sounded, but our attention remained on the siege wagon as it rolled to a halt. The zombies stood, mindless and unimpressed, but goblins bearing torches approached the rumbling wagon in hesitant steps, ready to flee at any second.
    “No beasts pushing or pulling it,” said Pops in a low voice. “Must be Crusader.”
    I couldn’t believe the Reunited Kingdom would join forces with the Necromancer King. In the added torchlight, I spotted a black cross outlined in white on the side of the siege wagon. The enemy had also painted an unusual black symbol emblazoned in a white circle near the cannon. It reminded me of a cross with the ends bent to the right, almost making it look to be rolling.
    “It’s got a cross on it,” I whispered. “Must be Crusader.”
    “No,” disagreed Road Toad, shaking his head. “The Crusader cross stands taller than its cross arms. They’re always white on a green or orange background. Never black.”
    “Maybe a new faction,” said Pops.
    Road Toad shook his head again. “Crusaders are sworn enemies of the Necromancer King. Even though they don’t work with magic, this siege weapon is beyond them.”
    “Then what is it?” I asked. “Whose is it?”
    Road Toad shrugged.
    “We’re about to find out,” said Pops Weasel, gazing across the river at the moving soldiers and then back toward the goblins who’d gathered around the metal contraption.
    A hatch raised and a zombie stuck its head and shoulders out. It looked about and addressed the goblins as only a souled one could do. A second souled zombie appeared from within the hulking, wheeled weapon and took hold of a swiveling, miniature cannon. The goblins began to chant, slapping their weapons against their shields. “Panzer! Panzer! Panzer!” Their eager, shrill yells rose in strength with each repetition.
    I asked Road Toad, “What does ‘panzer’ mean?”
    “It’s a new word in the foul tongue.” He stared intensely at the still rumbling metal wagon. “For that weapon out there.”

Chapter 3
North Africa
    2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee
     
    Ivan Mugdalla stood patiently while a guard patted him down. He dared not flinch or even roll his eyes. The 9mm Beretta nestled into the base of