The Blackguard (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

was the fact that he’d left before the circle was a weight he couldn’t shake. He felt like he’d left something incomplete.
    The time spent traveling to the village passed in silence. Alador watched the landscape: the terrain was rugged, with large boulders bigger than the wagon lying on either side of the winding road that crawled along the river bank. Vegetation had been sparse for much of Alador’s journey so far, but now the rock cliff curved away from the river and opened up into a beautiful valley. Trees filled with green apples lined the road, extending outward in long rows. Chickens, ducks and panzets, large birds with long legs, prized for their long purple feathers, wandered freely in the orchids. Alador had seen panzet feathers used sometimes in special dress or ritual clothes, and he knew people ate the bird, but he’d never tasted it.
    The birds stood out starkly against the trimmed grass that surrounded the fruit trees, and their clucking and calling filled the air with a discordant, yet magical song. Alador opened his mouth to ask how the villagers kept the grass so short, but closed it when he saw a flock of grey and tan rock sheep, whose tightly-curled fleece could mimic the rocky inclines around them. They often hid from their predators merely by curling up. They didn’t camouflage well in the orchard, but Alador doubted they had much to worry about in the way of predators.
    Word of the red dragon that had attacked Smallbrook had apparently been sent out: it didn’t take Alador long to spot the archers on platforms built high in the trees. He imagined that it would be devastating if a fire-breathing dragon attacked Oldmeadow’s orchards. He nodded to one of the sentinels that caught his eye and was saluted back curtly. The archer’s eyes immediately returned to watch the sky.
    As Henrick guided the wagon into the village, Alador looked about in amazement. Other than the fact that Oldmeadow was surrounded by orchards and flocks of birds, it could have easily been mistaken for Smallbrook. The village structure was defined by the same wagon-wheel pattern, with all paths and roads leading to the village center. Just before the center, Henrick turned the wagon to the right and traveled about the wheel till he came to a large building that could only be the alehouse.
    Two female middlins came hurrying over as Henrick hopped down, hugging him warmly and offering cheerful greetings. Henrick was half-dragged into the alehouse, leaving Alador by the wagon with his mouth hanging open. He became irritated that his father would leave him so, then belatedly remembered that he was nothing more than an apprentice. It would be his duty to see the wagon safely parked and the korpen stabled. He asked a nearby villager where Henrick’s wagon could be placed for the night, and, once he received his curt instructions, set about his tasks.
    O nly when he’d parked the wagon, stabled and fed the korpen, and seen to laying out their bedrolls beneath the wagon bed did Alador go into the alehouse. Night was falling by the time he ducked into the smoky, bustling building. Just like in Smallbrook, Henrick was surrounded by adults and elders. Their laughter and genuine joy at Henrick’s arrival drew Alador’s attention, and he went about finding a seat in the corner so he could closely watch his father. He could see no sign of spell-casting, nor did he see any use of items, yet the villagers seemed very comfortable in Henrick’s company.
    Alador knew that not all enchanters were this well-received; they often set up their wagon on the edge of town and anyone who needed an enchantment would come to them. And now that Alador thought about it, Henrick had not always been so well received, that change had only come about four or five years ago, when people had begun to treat him as more of an honored guest. It was a puzzle Alador couldn’t solve. The only solution he could think of was how liberally Henric k let the liquor