Darkin: The Prophecy of the Key (The Darkin Saga Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

Rislind knew that the fate of the East Continent had been rent by darkness, but they likewise knew they’d do well not to interfere; the better course, they collectively decided, would be to remain behind their mountain walls.
    It was only recently, when a resident left town under the most peculiar circumstances, that rumors started to spin among town folk. Some claimed that they saw a man with a magical sword pass through the town; others said they saw their own Remtall Olter’Fane in league with that same wizard. Some had started lore that a giant golem had passed down the town’s main road, accompanied by a band of strangers. One even whispered that the metal man fit the description of the ill omen prophesized in dwarven scripture. Some said that evil wizards long thought dead, bearing the evil titles of Aulterion and Vesleathren, had been revived—and still others gossiped that Remtall journeyed to seek revenge for his missing son. A few talked about a rogue demon—Zesm the Rancor—and spun tales that he had taken the throne of the East Continent from Grelion himself, and now ruled the slave trade. Only one person, a human, had ever admitted to knowing where Remtall had vanished to: senile old Mayor Doings.
    Several of the tougher trolls in town had attempted to pressure Mayor Doings into revealing the secrets of Remtall’s departure, but all Doings ever repeated was that “it was a matter of Rislind’s safety, and secret the task would remain—and if I was to even hint at the errand Remtall has left on, then the bird-spies of the air, and the fur-spies of the soil, would take the secret and bring it to our enemies.” The interrogators hadn’t backed off until pressure was put on them to desist by the Rislind militia, a small band of trolls, gnomes and humans.
    It had been several months since Remtall’s departure, and though the myths grew about the strangers who had come through the village, and what their passage portended, a new fever of gossip had quieted the tales recently. There was a more pressing matter to fret over suddenly; there was now a haunting to be concerned with. 
    The village was bustling at the earliest hour of the morn, earlier than was usual for a Sunday in the normally subdued community. Mayor Doings had called a town meeting on this particular Sunday, to be held outdoors at the Rislind Square at promptly eight o’clock. The meeting had been scheduled two weeks prior, as a response to the rash of worry about the haunting that had swept the citizens. It seemed that the fear was contagious. Mayor Doings had heard several eye-witness accounts of the forest-dwelling spirit, haunting the inner foothills of the Rislind Meadow, and he had decided that before the panic spiraled out of control, he would rein in his townsfolk’s fears at a meeting. He would address his peaceful citizens, and assure them that no evil spirit lurked in their forest. 
    Despite the early hour of the meeting, which some thought to be too early and a result of Doings’s growing senility, the Rislind Square was already packed with people of different races, ages and colors. Though there was an hour until Mayor Doings was supposed to begin his address, the gnomes, humans, and trolls of Rislind were all congregating noisily over the smell of fresh ham and burnt potatoes. Some were going about with vials of tea, others with the potent, mind-awakening elixir known as Rislind Red, brewed from local flora for its stimulating effect. Gossip was fervent, and the people were anxious with anticipation. The women stuck close to their smallest children, while the older youths ran about playing. Some pretended to be ghosts, upsetting the elderly.
    “I’m the Rislind Ghost!” shouted a small girl, as she chased two boys—one a troll, the other a human. They reciprocated her game, acting as if they were scared.
    “Oh no! I’m crazy Mayor Doings, and I can’t defend my people!” the gnome boy shouted with laughter. The other