Read Online The Sword and the Sorcerer by Norman Winski - Free Book Online

Talon tossed the boy several silver coins and pressed on. His men had never seen him in such a solemn and dangerous frame of mind.
    As they wound round a bend in the road they heard a strange, creaking noise. Seconds later they saw the macabre source of the creaking. A peasant and what looked like his son dangled from a rope tied to a tree, their necks broken, their faces frozen forever in contortions of pain. At the foot of the tree were the hideously mutilated carcasses of what must be the wife and daughter of the man swinging from the tree.
    Afraid that if he lingered before this repulsive sight he might show more emotion than he wished to in front of his men, Talon galloped forward, slowing down when he heard his men thundering after him.
    “I heard this is the way things go in Elysium these days,” Ishmael dourly remarked when he caught up with him.
    Darius, riding on the other side of him, asked, “Did you ever see Elysium in its prime, Talon?”
    “Yes,” Talon gloomily replied.
    “Was it a happy place?”
    “Oh yes!”
    In remembering happier times, for a fleeting moment the fierce warrior looked like a little boy.
    Moving furtively out of the sunlight into the thick shadows of a waterfront street was another grim young man—not as large and handsome as Talon, perhaps, but every bit as fearless and thirsty for Cromwell’s blood.
    Though he tried to hide his identity in the voluminous folds of his cloak and cowl, he had no way of knowing that his identity was already known to the six soldiers who stealthily trailed him, no more than a dozen or so stone abodes away. Although the sun gleamed like a shield of gold in the sky, the light bouncing off of it washed one side of the street and left the side where the soldiers stalked their young quarry full of inky shadows.
    The dark-featured young man rounded a corner away from the harbor and stepped into a smelly alley, between a grain depot and a closed blacksmith’s shop. A tall, slender and even darker man, also in heavy robes, detached himself from the shadows and detained him.
    “All is set, Mikah,” he whispered, gazing into the feverish brown eyes of the young man, which were so much like his father’s, Phelan.
    “Excellent, Machelli! Excellent!” Mikah glowed with excitement. At last the opportunity to cut down his father’s killer had arrived!
    Machelli rested a hand on one of Mikah’s shoulders. “By this time tomorrow you will be sitting on the throne of Eh-Dan—its legitimate heir.”
    Mikah could feel strength and cunning beaming from Machelli. He was so grateful to have him on his side and not Cromwell’s. “The people of Eh-Dan owe you everything.”
    Machelli shrugged his shoulders and tried to make light of his role in the overthrow. “Justice is its own reward, Mikah.”
    Now the intense young man affectionately grabbed one of Machelli’s sturdy arms. “You’re a good man, Count Machelli.”
    The count looked toward the brightly lit mouth of the alley. “But it is dangerous for us to tarry. You and I can have no further contact until after the deposing of the king.”
    Mikah released his arm and nodded. “So be it. I will see you then, dear friend, when Eh-Dan is free!”
    “Yes—when Eh-Dan is free!”
    With those last words, Machelli slipped out of the alley before Mikah could see the dark smirk on his face.
    A few moments later Mikah was also in the street, moving in the opposite direction from Machelli. After fifteen minutes of running and walking through Elysium’s maze of tiny streets and dark alleys—ducking around corners at the first sound of one of Cromwell’s patrols—he stopped before a rough-hewn stone abode. Before knocking on the huge wooden door, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one saw him. Then he gave the secret code—two loud knocks and three soft ones.
    Seconds later a portal in the door slid open, revealing two suspicious green eyes. The portal closed and the door swung inwards. Mikah slipped