Fall of the Western Kings (Tirumfall Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

rune-covered ring flashed with a fire of its own.  The man rose slowly from his wooden stool, and measured each man in the room. His hard eyes cut through them one at a time.  Finally he fixed his gaze on Barlon.
    “Netherdorf is a plum ripe for the picking.”  A sneer punctuated his words.  “They suspect nothing.  Their army is understaffed and the nobles are divided by silly squabbles over a blacksmith's son who escaped punishment for striking a noble’s son.  Some of the nobles may side with us.  I've been discreet in my inquiries so as not to tip your hand, sire.  We have the support of a young warrior named Wendler and likely his father as well.  In the end, I doubt we'll need their help.”
    “What about the castle staff?  And the gates?”
    “The castle staff will be compromised as you wished.  The gates will be opened when needed.  Your plan to neutralize the only knight worthy of the title is brilliant.  Everything progresses as planned.”  With that Shalmuthe settled back onto his stool.
    Barlon’s bushy eyebrows knotted in thought and he looked at the man seated immediately to his right.  He was a blond-haired brute with black eyes that burned with an unbridled lust for death. His deep purple armor was unscarred from battle and sucked the light from the fireplace into a living darkness that surrounded the strange metal.  A glinting silver triangle crisscrossed by black lightning bolts stood out on his breastplate.
    “Are the Knights of Habichon ready?” asked Barlon.
    “At your command.”  The voice was hollow, as if it came from another dimension.
    “Excellent,” Barlon said, nodding his approval.  “Netherdorf will fall and the glory that should have been ours in the last war will follow.  No one will betray us this time and those that pushed us into this dark corner of the world will pay. Carry out your preparations for the glory of the Mountain Kingdom.  We move before the next turning of the Greater Moon.”  Barlon stood and waved them toward the door.
    The men rose and the clatter of armor drowned out whatever whispered comments they exchanged.  The vast chamber cleared to the ringing of mailed boots except for the massive blond giant in purple armor.  He waited quietly at his liege's side.  The reverberations of metal on stone died to a soft murmur and then fell silent.  At last Barlon turned to the commander of the Knights of Habichon.
    “Lom.”
    “Yes, m’Lord.”
    “You haven't forgotten my special instructions?”
    “No.  The king will die.”
    “And the others?  The silversmith, the goldsmith, the sword-maker, the gem-cutter and the jeweler?”
    “Will be brought to you as ordered.”
    “Good.  Otherwise you may take such spoils as you can carry.”
    “Thank you, m’Lord.”
    It was all Barlon could do to look at those alien eyes, lifeless dots that burned with an animal lust for blood and death.  Lom turned and started for the door.  His armor soaked up the firelight leaving only darkness.  Once Lom passed into the shadows he was virtually invisible.
    Barlon returned to his chair and waited, drumming his fingers on the table.  Over and over he reviewed the preparations, scrutinizing each detail for any flaw that would steal his victory.  Much was unfinished.  One detail in particular held his attention and for that he had to wait on a midnight visitor.
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
     
    G ant and Chamz dashed into the street.  Night had fallen and the streets were a murky sea of dark shadows sprinkled with splotches of yellow light from an occasional oil lamp.  Here and there faint light shone through a dusty window.  Gant turned toward the main street, warily checking for ambush.  Chamz was so close behind he felt like an appendage. 
    They reached the main street.  It too was sparsely lit.
    “How come they keep it so dark?” asked Chamz.  “Do they encourage muggings?”
    “Shh,” said Gant.  “Listen.”
    They turned left