Terror At The Temple (Book 3) by Craig Halloran Read Free Book Online Page A

followed.
    “Are they going to kill us, Father?” the young man asked.
    “No, now be silent!” the father said, forcefully, but quiet.
    I heard the fear in both their voices. Innocent men. I could tell.
    “Why did they pick us, Father?”
    The father sighed, shaking his head as he said, “I don’t know; they just did.”
    “But we were good farmers, Father. Good miners, too. I didn’t steal any of the golden ore; I swear,” the young man sobbed.
    His father’s silence told it all. The father had stolen; the boy had not.
    My heart swelled. These men needed my help. Things came together.
    Golden ore!
    It explained all the secrets in the small town. Someone, a farmer most likely, had found a vein of it. The Jackal and his enforcers got word of it and took over the town. It wasn’t the first time such things had happened, and it wouldn't be the last, either. Golden ore, however, wasn’t gold, and it wasn’t ore. It was a vein of mystic dirt that had a goldish hue to it.
    “I’m hungry, Father. Do you think we’ll eat again?”
    Pitiful. I could make out the young man’s face pressed against the bars. He was rawboned and lanky. Looked like he’d missed one too many meals already. It infuriated me, but the thought of action just made me sicker.
    “Sure, Son. Sure we will,” the father lied.
    Don’t think about it. Think of a way out. I allowed my thoughts to drift to the Golden Ore.
    Farming was a big deal in Nalzambor. The land was rich, full, lustrous in many places. But working the land was still hard. It took time and a lot of work. And, in the case of hard work, many peoples and races were lacking. That’s where the Golden Ore came in. Or, more simply called, Magic Dirt. A few pounds of it would turn a square mile of desert into a garden of vegetables. It was a pricey commodity, and it seemed the Enforcers had happened upon it.
    But what did they want with me and these two men?
    My voice was dry and raspy, but I managed to say, “I can get you out of here.”
    Both men stiffened and huddled down.
    “I said, I can get you out of here.”
    The young man started to speak.
    “Don’t talk to him, Son. He might be that demon the innkeeper spoke of.”
    “I’m not a demon; I’m a man, same as the two of you,” I said. Sort of… “Now, do you want help or not? Ugh!” I slunk onto the cage floor. My stomach was killing me. I needed healing.
    “What happened?” the young man asked, pressing his face against the bars.
    “Son, be quiet!”
    “No.” The young man was adamant. “I won’t be. Sorry, Father. That man over there is offering help, and we need it!”
    “But, I just—”
    “I’m a man as well as you, Father. I’ll live with the consequences of my actions.”
    I made it back to my knees and said, “Good for you. Now, tell me, how many of these enforcers are there?”
    “I’m not sure, but there’s a lot of them.”
    “Thirty-Seven,” the father said.
    He’d turned to face me now. Unlike his son, he was a barrel-chested man. The torchlight reflected dimly from the top of his head.
    “How many of you in the village?”
    “Almost a thousand,” the father said.
    Accounting for women and children, that didn’t leave enough men to fight off a group of well-armed men. Fear doesn’t wait long to rule.
    “How long have they been here?”
    “A few months. They showed up two days after we found the vein of Golden Ore. All the celebrating would have woke the Dragons up. It’s no wonder they showed up so fast with all the blabber mouths in this village.”
    I’d seen it happen before. If you didn’t hire a well-armed force, the goons would quickly take over. Greed and treachery grew like weeds in Nalzambor. Better act quickly, before the roots got deep.
    “And the Jackal? Where does he stay?”
    I needed to find out where my gear was. It was the only way.
    “He lords it over everyone in the day and diminishes in the night. He’s wicked.”
    “He’s crafty, “ the father added.