Paladin's Prize (Age of Heroes, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

Keep was bad enough, but more importantly, he’d been ignoring the Earls’ Assembly and certain basic tenets in the kingdom’s Charter of late, making up laws as he pleased.
    It had got to the point where somebody had to say something. Not too surprising, Wrynne mused, that it should have been Sir Thaydor who had finally taken it upon himself to speak out. He was, after all, descended from one of the illustrious warlords who had founded Veraidel centuries ago, and his father, Lord Clarenbeld, held his rightful place in the Earls’ Assembly, as one of the kingdom’s noble peers.
    Alas, such honesty on the son’s part was not quite politic.
    His thanks in exchange for his concern for their country was to be sent on a string of increasingly dangerous suicide missions. Almost as if someone was trying to get rid of him… But the Paladin of Ilios feared no one, and thankfully, his polite banishment from court had left him free to come to the rescue of the people of Mistwood.
    Staring at him sleeping so peacefully, she remembered last night when she had reached his side, how he had been entirely surrounded by the Urmugoths. As if the whole thing were all a trap arranged expressly for him—a man too powerful in the army and too popular with the people to be allowed to live…
    At that moment, she heard a sound that jerked her head up sharply. Tearing her gaze away from Thaydor, she scanned the woods beyond her bower, her heart in her throat.
    To her astonishment, a handsome, black-haired knight came walking up the forest path. He was looking around in all directions as he climbed the hill, his armor clanking as he neared.
    “Thaydor?” he called. “Thaydor, man, where are you? Are you out there? Answer me! Are you hurt?”
    His deep voice sounded concerned. So why, then, was she suddenly sensing the presence of something darker? Perhaps not evil, outright, but a dark, cold ruthlessness.
    She studied the newcomer, a powerfully built knight, tall and rangy, with midnight hair and charcoal-gray armor trimmed in black and red. The white surcoat draped over his armor was adorned with the head of a crimson ram.
    Wrynne gulped.
    The emblem of Xoltheus, the war god.
    Well, you’re rather a scary fellow, aren’t you?
    But when he reached the top of the path and turned toward her, scanning the woods, her eyes widened. She went stock-still, holding her breath when she saw his angular face.
    The black-clad assassin from her dream!
    She stared at him in shock, her heart thundering so hard she was sure he must’ve heard it as he ambled closer. She prayed the sanctuary spell held, but she was not taking any chances.
    If she was right—if all this was a plot designed to murder Thaydor—then she had to protect him. Unconscious, he was easy prey. Her dream had warned this man knew no mercy. If her sanctuary spell failed and he detected their presence, she had better be ready with something.
    With a hard swallow, she rose silently from the bed and picked up Hallowsmite. She could barely lift the longsword, but gripping the hilt with both hands, she crept over to the edge of her bower.
    She stood guard in front of Thaydor as the red knight came even closer, glancing all around with a scowl on his face. She could see the annoyance in his coal-black eyes.
    “Thaydor!” he called again.
    Shaking his head in disgust, he finally gave up. He turned around, confused, and headed back down the path.
    Wrynne stood there trembling. She did not exhale until the black-haired man was out of sight.
    Her heart was still pounding as she slowly lowered the blade.
     
    * * *
     
    When Thaydor opened his eyes dreamily, soft morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy bed hangings and flooded the whimsical room in which he lay.
    Where am I? he wondered, but he felt too good, and frankly too lazy to care. He sensed no threats. Well, that was different. Huh. Then he closed his eyes again with a sound of pleasure and, for a moment, simply listened to the