The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere Read Online Free Page B

right.”
    She looked at him, her eyes fierce, her face set. Slowly her features softened. “I am sorry. I did not wish to speak so harshly.”
    “These are harsh days.”
    She changed the subject. “Corson seems a good man. And a good friend.”
    “I have known him since we were boys.” Demetrius laughed, remembering. “I was a few years older, and he followed me around when he was five or six like a lonely puppy. I put up with him more than anything else. By the time he was twenty-two and I was twenty-five, we were nearly inseparable, and have been since.”
    “It must be good to have someone like that, especially now.”
    “Is there no one like that in your life?”
    “Friends, yes. There was one…” She forced a smile. “New friends are something to be grateful for. Despite everything, I count myself lucky to be here. There are many who have not been so fortunate.”
    Demetrius nodded. “King Rodaan, for one.”
    “I take it he was a good king.”
    “He treated us all like men. His respect and love for us made us feel the same for him in return. If I could have died in his place, I would have gladly done so. My duty was to protect him and his lands.” He shook his head. “How am I doing?”
    “I’m sure you did all you could.”
    “Corson said the same. Kind words.”
    “More likely true words.”
    Demetrius kicked at a few stray rocks along the edge of the path. “We seem to be taking turns being gloomy.”
    “Perhaps we could use a bard to sing happy songs of days past.”
    “A bard, yes. If you heard me sing, you would only have another tale of woe.”
    They laughed together, and talked of happier things as they continued their journey north.
    *          *          *
    It was mid-afternoon when Corson came riding back to announce that the farmers had been spotted. The three moved forward to where Rowan waited, eyeing the group of locals. They advanced together, moving slowly and staying in plain view to avoid startling the group. A cluster of thirty or so huddled together, having an animated conversation. Back in the trees a makeshift camp could be seen, sheets used as tents and small fires cooking meager meals. A few carts held a handful of belongings, while worn-down horses and mules idly nuzzled the ground in a vain attempt to find nourishment.
    As soon as someone in the debating group of men spotted the approaching strangers, their conversation abruptly stopped. A tall, rotund man stepped forward and regarded the newcomers with open suspicion. A few in the crowd began to move toward the sides of the new arrivals, and although the farmers were unarmed in the traditional sense, they wielded hoes, picks, and other tools in a way that was not welcoming.
    Rowan looked the group over, and then dismounted. “I am Rowan, in the service of the lords of Delving. We come in peace.”
    “I’m sure you do,” said the man, his tone sarcastic. “As have the others that came before.”
    “I cannot speak for them. We have been told you have captured a spy. I was hoping to question him.”
    The man muttered something unintelligible, then made a weak attempt to seem more pleasant. “Indeed we have, though he denies it. Lying seems to be the norm these days.”
    “May we see him?”
    “First tell me who these others are.”
    “Tala, from the Eastern Forest. Demetrius and Corson from Corindor, both of whom serve King Rodaan, our ally and friend.”
    The man studied them one last time, then, unable to find a suitable reason to deny their request, waved for them to follow him.
    They passed through the crowd, which parted and then closed behind them. Guarded by four men and bound to a tree was a large goblin, taller by a foot than a normal man, broad in the chest and well muscled. He wore boots, pants, and vest, all of black leather trimmed in red, and his green skin nearly matched the moss that grew on the trees. They had tied his hands and feet with thin cords, and fastened him to the