Read Online The Orphan King by Sigmund Brouwer - Free Book Online

did not keep the sheriff’s men in suspense.
    It appeared as if from the ground, not more than a stone’s throw from the circle of men around the gold.
    Ghostly white, the phantom moved serenely toward the gallows. It was merely a full hand taller than the largest of the sheriff’s men, not four or five hands taller as the black specter had been. In the dim moonlight, it did not show arms. Nor a face. A motionless cowl covered its head.
    “All saints preserve us!” screamed the voice of the first soldier.
    “Advance or you’ll lose your head!” immediately countered the commander’s voice. “Move together or die in the morning!”
    All eight men began to step slowly forward with swords drawn.
    The deaf-and-mute girl plucked the protective wax tip off one of the darts and slipped it into the blowing tube. She lifted it to her mouth in preparation and waited, holding her breath.
    The phantom stopped. It did not speak.
    A cloud blotted the moon completely. The men hesitated, then gasped as an eerie glow came from within the pale body of the phantom. A few soldiers stumbled backward on the uneven ground.
    “Hold, you cowards,” came the tense voice of the commander. The retreating men froze.
    “A third of the gold to the one who defeats this apparition!” called someone in the pack.
    The phantom held its position.
    Finally, just as the cloud began to break away from the moon, one soldier rushed at the phantom. “Join me!” he shouted. “Show no fear!”
    The girl drew a breath to fire the dart. She had no doubt she’d be able to hit the man squarely in the back, but she still waited. Surely Thomas had planned something; it was not going to be this easy for the sheriff’s men, was it?
    But she couldn’t take the risk. She made her decision to give the sharp, hard burst of breath that would fire the tiny dart through the darkness, but just before the point of the soldier’s outstretched sword reached the outline of the phantom, a roaring explosion of white filled the soldier’s face. It etched sharply for one split heartbeat every ripple of the ground for yards in every direction.
    The soldier screamed, falling sideways as his sword clattered uselessly to the ground.
    Unseen, the mute-and-deaf girl turned her head and let out a breath. She gathered her darts and blowing tube and slipped away. Now was the time to return to the camp the knight had set up, beforeThomas reached it and discovered she was missing. She knew she’d arrive before Thomas did, for she would not have his burden to carry. She had seen what the sheriff’s men had not.

    No man had time to react. The phantom moaned as it became a giant torch of anger. Flames reached for the soldier on the ground, and he crabbed his way backward, screaming in terror.
    The other soldiers huddled in a frightened knot. Each man stared wild-eyed at the flames that outlined the figure of the phantom. They whispered hurried prayers, crossing and recrossing themselves.
    “A spirit from the depths of hell,” one soldier groaned. “Spreading upon us the fires that burn eternally.”
    As if in response, the flames grew more intense, still clearly showing the shape of the phantom. And it said nothing.
    The men stood transfixed. The last flame died abruptly, and the phantom collapsed upon itself. The men did not approach.
    One soldier finally thought to glance at the gallows. The large bag of gold was missing.

W illiam stirred as a shadow blocked his face from the early morning sun. He had not slept well—the ground was lumpy and cold, and the pickpocket had pressed hard against him to seek warmth during the night.
    He blinked open his eyes at a mountain of black that filled the entire sky above him.
    “Mother of saints,” he said with no emotion. “If you are not the boy Thomas, I am a dead man.”
    “Your control is admirable,” breathed the specter in low, rasping tones. “It makes you a valuable man.”
    With a slight grunt, William sat upright. His