NexLord: Dark Prophecies Read Online Free Page A

she
explained.  She watched his face to see if she had been
talking over his head, but her words didn't seem to confuse
him.  She chalked it up to the education his scholarly
father had begun.
    "It isn't right," he exclaimed, "they
shouldn't be allowed."
    "Who is to stop them?  But don't
worry; they'll get their just desserts in the end.  Most
of these imposters die quickly, as anyone with such marks becomes
the first target in any battle.   Remember, lies
carry their own punishment," she explained, pushing back a lock of
gray hair that the wind had blown across her well-lined face.
    "If only Ragol was alive now, he would set
things right!"
    "That was a long time ago, Aerin," Mara said
gently.
    Aerin glanced down at the book in his
lap.  "It says, in here, that he died alone, without
friends or companions, attacking the Dreadmaster, but my father
said that some people say he was captured and tortured into
insanity.  I like to remember him at the battle of the
Kitrick Wall, ready to take on the Dreadmaster's army, his Bondsmen
at his side."
    Mara nodded at the boy and said, "Perhaps
that is best."
    Aerin looked ahead, and in the distance, he could see large amounts of smoke
rising above the trees.
    "Strakhelm," she said in answer to his
unasked question, "we'll be there soon."
    "Is it on fire?” he asked.
    She laughed merrily, "Don't worry, that's
just the hearths and fireplaces at work preparing the evening
meals.  We're still a
ways off so we will make camp out here tonight and enter the
city in the morning."
     
    The next morning Mara's wagon rumbled across
the cobblestones on one of Strakhelm's main city
streets.  The old woman drove the two horse team, slowly
heading for an Inn with a stable large enough to accommodate her
wagon.  Aerin sat on the seat beside her.  The
Quarian had retired inside the wagon before they entered the busy
streets and the lavender man had also disappeared somewhere; as
Aerin had discovered he was often want to do.
    Aerin was amazed; he had been to more than
one small city, but nothing like Strakhelm.  It was huge
beyond his imagination.  Buildings were mostly four
stories high, and there were towers even taller!  People
were everywhere; the sheer mass of humanity nearly overwhelmed the
young boy.  Strakhelm was the largest city east of the
Dragonback, and home to the Seat of Stone, the Warlord’s
castle.
    Mara noted his wide-eyed look and smiled, it
dawned on her that she had come to like the quiet boy during the
two days they had been together.  "Quite a sight, isn't
it?” she asked him.
    Aerin nodded, watching a garishly dressed
merchant pass nearby with four bodyguards flanking him on all
sides.
    A squad of ten men dressed in brown leather
armor and sheathed swords filed past with what looked like a priest
in white robes leading the group. Aerin noted the symbol of an open
hand on the left breast of the priest's robe.
    Mara scowled, but kept her eyes straight
ahead, not looking at the priest, though he appraised the wagon
from under his dark eyebrows as it passed.
    Aerin looked back trying to get another look
at the symbol on the priest's robe.
    "Don't stare, Aerin," Mara admonished
softly.
    He sat back down.  "What kind of
priest goes around with armed men?” he asked.
    "The Hand," she noted dryly.
    Aerin heard the scorn in her
voice.  "Why do you dislike them?"
    She suddenly smiled at him
slyly.  "Now did I say I didn't like
them?  Can't recall it, but let's just say I don't
believe what they believe."
    "And what is that?” he asked with the
curiosity of the young.
    "More than I care to get into, but I’ll tell
you this much, they are very narrow-minded about a lot of things, like all non-humans
being evil, that kind of thing."
    "You mean they think Yearl and Tocor are evil?" Aerin prodded.
    "Yes, as I said, very narrow-minded , but let's not talk about the priests of
The Hand right now, let's enjoy the more positive sights of
Strakhelm!” she