Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

grips.
    “Look at them go at it, both of them senile!” riled a man from the back of the crowd.
    Finally, Crumpet fell over, rolled down the two steps he had climbed, as Mayor Doings won his fight and ripped the pipe violently from the gnome’s claw-like grasp. The audience wooed, waiting patiently to see if the old gnome would get up. To everyone’s surprise, the gnome didn’t move. Mayor Doings stood by, puffing contentedly, not looking over to observe the result of his quarrel.
    “He’s dead, the mayor’s killed him!” shouted a pretty young troll girl.
    “Oh no he’s not,” the mayor responded, finally turning to view the condition of the gnome: Crumpet lay unresponsive, his canes crossed over his chest. The mayor grew afraid at seeing the odd position into which the gnome had crumpled, and he bent to see if Grames was alright.
    “Come on, old Crumpet—Mr. Grames! Don’t play now. It isn’t very funny, not at all.” Mayor Doings prodded, stepping down and kneeling to the motionless gnome. At that moment, as if struck with fiery life, Crumpet grabbed both his canes in a flash of uncanny speed, and amazingly, the gnome began to beat upon the mayor from his position on the ground—thumping one after the other, powerful cane blows, until the mayor cried in agony and backed away.
    “And this is how we get things done,” Taisle laughed to Pursaiones. She smiled, momentarily forgetting her impatience with the mayor’s procession. After several minutes of Mayor Doings apologizing, and Crumpet resisting the mayor’s desire to still have him speak, Crumpet took the podium and addressed the audience.
    “It was eighty-five years ago—to the day—that I first began to experience the premonition of the spirit. In my youth, I was a virile young lad, a carouser—in fact, I can remember the first Rislind sporting games. You see, in those times, we didn’t have a tournament or anything like there is today. Back then, it was all about pure feats of strength such as—” Crumpet went on, and spoke of nothing relevant for several minutes, with a remarkable patience on the part of the crowd. Mayor Doings finally decided he had better try to get Crumpet to the topic at hand.
    “Not to interrupt, Mr. Grames, but about the spirit,” Doings prodded as delicately as possible, cutting off the gnome as he was transitioning from the story of his first love to the story of his first adventure to Hemlin. In response to Doings’s prod, Crumpet at once raised his canes and motioned as if to rain blows again upon the defenseless mayor. The crowd was let down, as there was no more amusement. Instead, Crumpet took the hint and jumped to the matter at hand.
    “Yes well, the ghost, I have seen it. Was just two nights ago, I saw it. Same as Miss Brewboil said it—wore rags of clothes, he did—orange and yellow, stained with dirt—and he was in my house!”
    “Ooohh!” came the crowd, a wave of awe and fear.
    “Yes, I too had been at the foothills that day, exploring the West Caves. He must be a fast spirit, as I was on my pony, and he followed me back without a problem—he must have traced my every move. Though I didn’t see him in the woods, I was woken in the middle of the night by a strange noise coming from my kitchen. I know the bears haven’t been down into the meadow for some time, but even still I took caution and grabbed my good sword, Melthang . That sword is no ordinary metal; in fact it is White Steel of the great North Country. Many of you may not know the country’s name, it is Hoperind. I have been to that ice country twice in my life, the first time I can remember I went there with—” Mayor Doings decided again to cut Crumpet off, before his reminiscence ran away for another twenty minutes.
    “Excuse me, sweet Mr. Grames, a fresh puff?” Doings interrupted, handing the now properly lit pipe to the gnome. Crumpet took it, forgetting his hostility toward Doings altogether, and proceeded to draw from