Nemesis and the Troll King Read Online Free PDF Page B

did you come by these beautiful wings?” he asked absently.
    Yarg remained silent for a while, and then, “I traded the fairies for them,” he said quietly.
    Dylan’s eyes left them reluctantly as he moved to the next table. Before him was an assortment of jars, each filled to the brim with glittering specks of dust. Frowning, he wondered why his brother collected coloured dust.
    â€œWhy have you got coloured dust?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s not dust,” sighed Yarg. “Those jars are filled with different kinds of magic. Don’t ask me any more questions. I think you already know much more than you’re supposed to.”
    Dylan was just about to approach the next table when Yarg called for him to come. Dylan raised his eyebrows but walked forward, seating himself on the edge of the table that Yarg stood behind. A strange feeling unravelled in the pit of his stomach and a sudden stillness settled on the room. Dylan had just opened his mouth to comment on it when the intent look on Yarg’s face stopped him.
    â€œI thank you for coming. Perhaps we will meet again. Goodbye …”
    Dylan heard the words as if from a great distance. His heart began to beat faster, the room began to swirl, and then everything went black. Within the blink of an eye he was standing in front of his very own castle, as if he’d never left.

3
    A Centaur Named Folgoo
    Y arg blinked as the mortal who claimed to be his brother disappeared.
    â€œI didn’t have a choice. There’s no way I could take a mortal on this journey,” he reassured himself.
    He gathered a few things into a bag, threw it across his shoulder, and left the castle. Passing into the courtyard where the trolls had gathered to farewell him, he stopped next to Taliyard and whispered instructions that would allow his chief to run the kingdom during its king’s absence. Then, with a last goodbye, Yarg turned in the direction of BlackMist Mountain.
    As Yarg set one foot after the other, his mind gnawed at every aspect of his dilemma. He had to get to BlackMist Mountain, then he had to find the hidden Valley Mystic, had to find Nemesis, had to save a fairy … he growled in frustration. Which fairy? He didn’t even know the fairy’s name—had no recollection of her at all, in fact.
    Doubts and conflict raging within him, Yarg trudged on, almost becoming used to the sharp rays of the sun beaming down on his bare head. After some hours, he was brought out of his reverie by a sudden lessening of the light and heat.
    Shaking his mind free of the turmoil of his thoughts, Yarg realised that he had entered a thickly-wooded forest. He looked up to see huge branches covered in broad leaves blocking out the sun’s rays, allowing passage only to faint wisps of dusky light.
    Yarg began to walk again. The deeper he moved into the wood’s depths, the more still it became. Birds resting upon high perches silently observed his passage, insects were motionlessly indistinguishable from their surroundings, even the rustling of the leaves had stopped.
    Yarg entered a small clearing and a ripple of awareness wound its way up his thick arms. In the centre of the clearing stood a solitary tree, the solid mass of its trunk testifying to great age.
    One of the ancients …
    Yarg moved slowly forward and reverently placed his hand on its trunk. He moved closer and pressed his nose right up against the bark, inhaling deeply of the rich woody scent. He sighed, realising how long it had been since he had taken the time to appreciate what nature gave so freely.
    Sinking to the soft ground at the base of the tree, he leaned his back against it and rested for a moment. He closed his eyes and let his other senses take over—smells of rich earth and growing things, feel of rough bark against his back and soft moss beneath his legs …
    He was content, on the verge of being lulled to sleep, when a light breeze picked up,