Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) by Joseph Turkot Read Free Book Online Page B

he was the one who unified us in the old war! It makes me sick to remember,” an old troll screeched above the growing racket.
    “Yes—Grelion Rakewinter is the reason that many of us are here and alive today, but that does not remove the villainous stain he wrought upon our world, upon Arkenshyr and Enoa the most. I promise you that justice will be served to Grelion—but right now he is not our most urgent threat. As it stands, Grelion’s slave trade has fallen into disarray. His Guard has mutinied, his capital Morimyr is crumbling,” Peren informed the angered mob.
    “He has gone into hiding, the coward, at the first sign of a power greater and more evil than him! We ought to seek him out, and hang him at once, after a long torture!” cried an old troll.
    “That we may well do. Please listen—the hour grows late, and Vesleathren’s horde draws near.” Erguile was awed once again at how easily Peren managed the crowd, somehow preventing the imminent violent eruption.
    “He’s a good speaker,” Erguile mumbled to Flaer.
    “And a better Vapour,” Flaer informed.
    “I knew there was something about him.”
    Peren waved his arms, and Erguile returned his attention to the enormous plinth.
    “Grelion is gone, and now his slaves run wild in clans and packs, struggling for survival upon the plains, deserts, and woods of the southern countries. Regardless of Grelion’s whereabouts, we will find and destroy him after we vanquish the evil at hand—I promise it will be done.” The crowd roared in applause at Peren’s pledge, which had been made in the charismatic tone of an emperor.
    “Once the bodies of Vesleathren and Zesm lie at our feet, we will seek Grelion. Now, we must unite the slave clans of the south, so that they may aid us in this war—for if the dark force passes through us, it will claim Arkenshyr next. The Reichmar have refused to help us. Lucky we are to have the aid of the trolls of Drensh, and the men of South Shore, who march to us now through desert and plain. Many have come across the Kalm from Enoa; elves and humans alike have journeyed to our defense. Together we will unite, as we did in ages of yore, to end the plague of the Feral horde!”
    The crowd cheered, egging Peren on, hungry for more talk of conquest. They hollered loud, and exuberance filled the room. Again, from the corner of his eye, Erguile thought he saw a bird peep out from the great tree at the center of the chamber. Amid the frenzy he tried to draw Flaer’s attention, but to his surprise, Flaer was standing up, heading toward the front of the room. Erguile was stunned, and he turned to Slowin, who simply nodded. From places all throughout the chamber, people were getting up from their seats and walking toward Peren.
    “Friends! Coming before you now are veterans of the Five Country War,” Peren informed the crowd. Flaer stood alongside twenty others, rimming the edges of the plinth, each patiently awaiting Peren’s next words. Erguile recognized the absence of a gnomen sea captain. 
    “Be heartened, for firstly I present our finest general: Flaer Swordhand!”
    Most of the seated spectators stood to applaud, and only after looking around in awe did Erguile rise with the rest to clap merrily.
    “For those of you who do not know who I am,” Flaer spoke, quieting the crowd with charisma that matched Peren’s, “I am a commander, a veteran of the Five Country War.”
    “He looks good up there, doesn’t he?” Slowin said to Erguile as he sat back down. Flaer certainly had changed in appearance since Erguile had first met him in a prison cell atop the Ceptical Tower; he had been a balled up mess of grimy hair and dirty clothes then, tattered and smelly. His beard had been long and greased, his eyes had been watery, and his grisly mane of hair had been stuck to his back. He had worn the white look of emaciation, fatigue, and hunger—and he hadn’t been able to speak.
    As it was told to Erguile, it took the might of