Read Online Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) by J. K. Swift - Free Book Online Page A

dry laugh forced itself from his chest. “I am just a
tired, old innkeeper.”
    Seraina could tell Sutter was lying by the way he
laughed. He was telling them what they wanted to hear. Thomas
seemed to sense it as well, for in a rare show of affection, he
reached over the table and put his hand on Sutter’s shoulder.
    “Do what is best for your family. You will never
regret that,” Thomas said.
    “What will you do?” Sutter asked.
    As Seraina waited for Thomas’s response, bits of her
recent vision flashed through her mind.
    “I have not given it much thought,” Thomas said,
leaning back slowly in his chair.
    “You could come stay with us. We need an extra set
of hands around the inn.”
    Thomas smiled, but there was more sadness about it
than joy. He looked around the kitchen.
    “Thank you, Sutter. I would like that,” he said.
“But I think I had better ask Pirmin first. He was always rather
protective over this place.”
    While Sutter chuckled at the joke, Seraina looked
into Thomas’s dark, almost black, eyes and trembled at what she
saw.

Chapter 7
     
     
    The Archbishop’s messenger walked his horse through
the gates of High-town just after midnight. A bank of clouds had
moved in an hour before, and the evening air was muggy. When the
rain finally broke loose, it came in the form of a mist so fine and
light he did not bother putting up the hood of his cloak.
    He kept his horse to a walk as he passed through
Low-town. The sound of a cantering horse in the dead of night made
people nervous and was sure to draw attention. But once he had
navigated the maze of cobbled alleys and streets, and the last
group of houses lay behind him, the messenger dug his heels into
his horse’s side and urged her into a gallop.
    The horse’s shod hooves hit the bridge over the
Salzach a minute later, and the sound echoed off the trees and
drowned out the noise of water rushing below. The rider did not let
up on the reins. Time was more important than stealth now. He knew
he was far enough out of the city that no one would hear.
    But he was wrong.
    After the end of the bridge the road banked to the
left and narrowed. With the cloud cover, and the drizzling rain, he
had no hope of seeing the black-dyed rope stretched taut in his
path. It caught him high in the chest and snapped his head back to
bounce off his horse’s flank. He rolled backward off his mount and
landed hard in the middle of the road. It took several moments
before he could breathe, never mind push himself up to his hands
and knees. His head cleared enough to realize what had happened and
he drew his sword at the same time as he staggered to his feet.
    “Take your time,” a rough voice said. “Neither one
of us is in a hurry now.”
    A man, huge as the night was dark, stood on the road
a few feet away. His sword was drawn, but rested point down in the
road. His hands were folded over one another on the hilt of, what
would be for most men, a two-handed sword.
    The messenger pointed his blade at the figure. He
glanced around warily. Emboldened when he saw no others, he at last
found his voice.
    “Who are you to waylay a messenger of the
Prince-Archbishop?”
    “At this point, it no longer matters.”
    The Archbishop’s man squinted his eyes and took a
step sideways. “I know you”, he said. “You are Leopold’s man. What
is the meaning of this?”
    Klaus grunted, and lifted his sword. “You sound
plenty rested enough now,” he said.
    The messenger’s eyes widened. “You would raise
swords against an official representative of a Prince of the
Empire?”
    “No. I just mean to kill one.”
    Klaus shuffled forward and aimed a slow thrust at
the man’s midsection. The messenger was surprised by the attack,
but he was light on his feet and managed to step back and block.
Klaus thrust again, another cumbersome stroke, and this time,
encouraged by his opponent’s lack of speed, the messenger countered
with a slash at Klaus’s throat.
    Klaus’s sword