Read Online Blood of the Fold by Terry Goodkind - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Goodkind
Tags: Fantasy
Ads: Link
mail regarded all the polished metal with indifference. Polish and precision often displayed nothing more that conceit, and although in this case they were a reflection of Brogan’s discipline, a display of deadly attention to detail, the D’Haran’s probably didn’t know that. Where he and his men were better known, a glimpse of their crimson capes was enough to make strong men blanch, and the glint off their polished armor was enough to make an enemy break and run.
When they had come across the Rang’Shada Mountains from Nicobarese, Brogan had met with one of the Order’s armies, made up of men of many nations, but mostly D’Hara, and had been impressed with the D’Haran’s general, Riggs, who had accepted counsel with interest and attention. Brogan, in fact, had been so impressed with the man that he had left some of his own troops with him to help in the conquest of the Midlands. The Order had been on its way to bring the heathen city of Ebinissia, the Crown city of Galea, to heel under the Order. The Creator willing, they had succeeded.
Brogan had learned that D’Harans didn’t hold much favor with magic, and that pleased him. That they also feared magic disgusted him. Magic was the Keeper’s conduit into the world of man. The Creator was to be feared. Magic, the Keeper’s witchery, was to be expunged. Until the boundary had been brought down the past spring, D’Hara had been cordoned off from the Midlands for generations, so in large part D’Hara and its people were still an unknown to Brogan, a vast new territory in need of enlightenment and, possibly, purification.
Darken Rahl, the leader of D’Hara, had brought the boundary down, allowing his troops to sweep into the Midlands and capture Aydindril, among other cities. If he had been more interested in confining himself to the affairs of man, Rahl might have seized all of the Midlands before they could raise armies against him, but he had been more interested in pursuing magic, and that had been his undoing. Once Darken Rahl was dead, assassinated by a pretender to the throne, as Brogan had heard it told, the D’Haran troops had joined with the Imperial Order in its cause.
There was no longer a place in the world for the ancient, dying religion called magic. The Imperial Order was upon the world, now; the Creator’s glory would guide man. Tobias Brogan’s prayers had been answered, and every day he thanked the Creator for placing him in the world at this time, when he could be at the center of it all, to see the blasphemy of magic vanquished, to lead the righteous in the final battle. This was the making of history, and he was part of it.
The Creator, in fact, had recently come to Tobias in his dreams, to tell him how pleased He was with his efforts. He didn’t reveal this to any of his men; that might be seen as presumptuous. To be honored by the Creator was satisfaction enough. Of course he had told Lunetta, and she had been awed; after all, it wasn’t often the Creator chose to speak directly to one of His children.
Brogan squeezed his legs around his horse to pick up the pace as he watched the D’Harans move on down a side street. None turned to see if they were to be followed or challenged, but only a fool would take that for complacency; Brogan was no fool. The throng parted for the column, giving them a wide path as they proceeded down Kings Row. Brogan recognized some of the uniforms of soldiers at various palaces: Sandarians, Jarians, and Keltans. He saw no Galeans; the Order must have been successful in their task at Galea’s Crown city of Ebinissia.
At last Brogan saw troops from his homeland. With an impatient wave he signaled a squad forward. Their capes, crimson to announce who they were, billowed out behind as they charged past the swordsmen, lancers, standard-bearers, and finally Brogan. Accompanied by the racket of iron shoes on stone, the horsemen charged right up the vast steps of the Nicobarese Palace. It was an edifice
When they had come across the Rang’Shada Mountains from Nicobarese, Brogan had met with one of the Order’s armies, made up of men of many nations, but mostly D’Hara, and had been impressed with the D’Haran’s general, Riggs, who had accepted counsel with interest and attention. Brogan, in fact, had been so impressed with the man that he had left some of his own troops with him to help in the conquest of the Midlands. The Order had been on its way to bring the heathen city of Ebinissia, the Crown city of Galea, to heel under the Order. The Creator willing, they had succeeded.
Brogan had learned that D’Harans didn’t hold much favor with magic, and that pleased him. That they also feared magic disgusted him. Magic was the Keeper’s conduit into the world of man. The Creator was to be feared. Magic, the Keeper’s witchery, was to be expunged. Until the boundary had been brought down the past spring, D’Hara had been cordoned off from the Midlands for generations, so in large part D’Hara and its people were still an unknown to Brogan, a vast new territory in need of enlightenment and, possibly, purification.
Darken Rahl, the leader of D’Hara, had brought the boundary down, allowing his troops to sweep into the Midlands and capture Aydindril, among other cities. If he had been more interested in confining himself to the affairs of man, Rahl might have seized all of the Midlands before they could raise armies against him, but he had been more interested in pursuing magic, and that had been his undoing. Once Darken Rahl was dead, assassinated by a pretender to the throne, as Brogan had heard it told, the D’Haran troops had joined with the Imperial Order in its cause.
There was no longer a place in the world for the ancient, dying religion called magic. The Imperial Order was upon the world, now; the Creator’s glory would guide man. Tobias Brogan’s prayers had been answered, and every day he thanked the Creator for placing him in the world at this time, when he could be at the center of it all, to see the blasphemy of magic vanquished, to lead the righteous in the final battle. This was the making of history, and he was part of it.
The Creator, in fact, had recently come to Tobias in his dreams, to tell him how pleased He was with his efforts. He didn’t reveal this to any of his men; that might be seen as presumptuous. To be honored by the Creator was satisfaction enough. Of course he had told Lunetta, and she had been awed; after all, it wasn’t often the Creator chose to speak directly to one of His children.
Brogan squeezed his legs around his horse to pick up the pace as he watched the D’Harans move on down a side street. None turned to see if they were to be followed or challenged, but only a fool would take that for complacency; Brogan was no fool. The throng parted for the column, giving them a wide path as they proceeded down Kings Row. Brogan recognized some of the uniforms of soldiers at various palaces: Sandarians, Jarians, and Keltans. He saw no Galeans; the Order must have been successful in their task at Galea’s Crown city of Ebinissia.
At last Brogan saw troops from his homeland. With an impatient wave he signaled a squad forward. Their capes, crimson to announce who they were, billowed out behind as they charged past the swordsmen, lancers, standard-bearers, and finally Brogan. Accompanied by the racket of iron shoes on stone, the horsemen charged right up the vast steps of the Nicobarese Palace. It was an edifice
Similar Books
