Read Online The Sword and the Flame by Stephen Lawhead - Free Book Online Page B

as an idea took shape in his mind. “Here is an opportunity I can turn to advantage.” He smiled cannily. “Oh, yes indeed.” He chuckled to himself and then snapped, “Bring him!”
    They started off on foot, threading deeper into the forest. Two big men shoved the prince forward. When he fell on hands and knees, they hauled him up by his collar and shoved him forward again. Another guard seized Tarky’s reins and led the animal away.
    â€œYou two!” Nimrood said, pointing to the two behind. “Stay well to the rear of us. If anyone comes after, put them off the trail. Do you hear?”
    The two men looked worriedly at each other, but nodded and dropped behind. Soon Nimrood, the prince, and the others were lost in the dense growth of forest. The two guards watched their comrades dis-appear. One muttered to the other, “I do not like this fool business. Not a whit, by Ariel! We are guards of the temple, but he has made us highwaymen and kidnappers!”
    â€œI did not hear your voice oppose him,” the other replied nastily. “We are in it now and have no choice but to see it through.”
    â€œAye, but where is it going to lead in the end? That is what I want to know. There is death here—mark my words. Death. This will be the undoing of the temple.”
    â€œSilence! There is enough to worry about as it is. If we are to get out of this with our skins, we need to keep sharp and stop mewling like sick cats.”
    â€œHe has taken the prince! By Ariel—”
    â€œShut up! We are in this as deep as he. No sense in yammering on about it. Come on, let’s be about our business.”
    The two walked off in the direction the others had gone, listening nervously to the forest sounds, hoping against hope that no one would come after them.

    Toli entered the trail and proceeded to the clearing. Before he even saw the huddled forms upon the ground, he knew something was very wrong. His heart jerked within him, quickening to the terrible apprehension that overpowered him.
    He threw himself down from his horse and ran toward the place where Quentin held the body of Durwin in his arms.
    â€œMy lord! Oh!” He stopped short and knelt, knowing now what had happened.
    Quentin raised his head slowly. His face glistened with tears. “Durwin is dead,” he said softly. “Dead. Toli, I . . .” His voice trailed off, and he clutched the body to him again, his shoulders shaking with the sobs that racked him.
    Toli felt as if his heart had been cut in two. He sat back on his heels and raised his face to the sky, showing pale blue overhead through the trees. In a moment the quiet green glade hummed with a gentle sound as Toli raised the ancient Jher song for the dead.
    Whinoek brea faro lleani,
Fallei sensi nessina wea .
    The words were simple, and Quentin understood them. Toli sang, “Father of Life, receive our brother. Grant him peace in your great home.”
    To the Jher people, who had no permanent home, roaming the northern forests as they did, Whinoek’s great home meant eternal joy and safety and comfort—and peace, which to the gentle Jher was the highest fulfillment.
    After a time the song stopped, fading softly away on the air. Quentin lowered the body of the hermit carefully to the ground and, with Toli, arranged the limbs. He brushed a strand of hair away from the broad face of the man he had loved, and kissed the high forehead gently. Then he rose slowly.
    â€œThey will curse the day of their birth,” he murmured. “I am going after them.”
    â€œNo, let me, I—”
    â€œI am going. Ride to the castle. Bring a bier for him, and take him back. I will join you there when I have found my son.”
    â€œBut—,” objected Toli. He stood and approached the king.
    â€œThat is all,” Quentin cut him off coldly. “You will do as I say. When you have finished, bring a company of knights and come