The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) by Brian Beam Read Free Book Online

wettened hand on my pants.
    “Not headin’ east, I ’ope,” he said, lifting his mug back to his lips.
    “Why’s that?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
    “Gualain’s goin’ to war,” he answered drunkenly.
    “Yeah, we’ve heard about that.”  I doubted the man was going to be able to tell us anything we didn’t already know.  I was wrong.
    “Yeh, but did ya’ hur that thur army is large ’nough to rival any two armies in tha kingdoms?” he asked.
    “Seems unlikely,” I replied.  Gualain was much too small a kingdom for such a rumor to be true.
    The drunken man just shook his head.  “Nah, it’s the truth.  They says Gualain’s army increased tenfold o’ernight.  No ’un knows nothin’ ’bout whur the new uns came from.”
    The man’s words stole Til’s attention away from his work on the broken peg. 
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    The man smiled, putting all of his crooked yellow teeth on display.  “They says that new ’cruits are jus’ showin’ up every day outta nowhere.  Army jus’ keeps growin’.” 
    He took another swig of ale, his expression turning serious as he lowered his mug to the table.  “Tha’s not even the worst of it.  They says the dead roam the kingdom, that they’s gots glowin’ green lights in their chests.”  His brow dropped.  If nothing else, he at least believed he was telling the truth.  “They says their’s a new king there, jus’ lets it happen.”
    I had to stifle a laugh with a clearing of my throat to keep from offending the man.  First of all, he was so drunk, I could barely understand him.  I was pretty sure that I ran the risk of becoming inebriated from his breath alone.  Second, what he was saying made no sense.  “And where did you hear this?” I questioned, hoping that I was able to hide my sarcasm.
    He gestured towards the stairs with his mug.  “Man an’ his girl showed up this mornin’.  They’s upstairs in the otha’ room.  They says they come from out that way.  Man says he saw the dead fer himself.  Says his wife done been killed by ’em.  Poor bastard.”
    My memory flashed back to the eldrhim that Sal’ had initially claimed to be a zombie—the dead come back to life.  Could Raijom or Prexwin have been summoning eldrhims in Gualain that people were confusing with the walking dead?  The possibilities starting to form in my head set my heart to speeding.
    “Well, thanks for the warning,” I said, noting the unease in my voice.  I couldn’t believe I was actually beginning to believe the drunken man.
    By this time, Til’ had finished his work on the broken peg.  He’d carved Nalis’s sigil into its center, the remaining surface covered with intricate swirls.  Nalis is the goddess of spirits, and by spirits, I’m not talking about ghosts or souls.  Let’s just say it was fitting for this man.  It wasn’t Til’s best work, but it was enough to satisfy the slovenly drunk.
    “By my own flesh an’ blood,” the man laughed as he snatched the peg from Til’s hand.  “This is perty good, lil’ feller.”  He slapped his hand against Til’s back.  “Guess what they says is true.  Well, I better stagger on home now.  Don’ wanna anger tha missus.”  He stood up from the table, barely keeping on his feet.  Instead of going out the door, however, he went back to the bar and, with a solid thunk , dropped his head down onto it.
    Til’ rolled his eyes and looked back to me.  “And that’s why Kolari don’t drink.  You don’t think what he said is true, do you?  You know, about the zombies.  I don’t think I’d want to see the dead come back to life.”  Til’ shuddered.
    I fought not to shudder myself.  “He was drunk, Til’.  I doubt his words were anything more than embellished rumor.”  I let out a deep breath.  “Still, rumors are usually based on some shred of truth.  If Raijom’s involved with the mess in Gualain, maybe eldrhims are the real