Gateway to Nifleheim Read Online Free Page B

“I’m practically mute, I am.”
    “Sometimes them what says the least, says the most,” said Ob.”
    Theta smiled. “Another truth.”
    “If the folks out hereabouts aren’t afraid of much,” said Dolan, “why do they flee us?”
    “What do you mean?” said Ob.
    “People have been blowing out their candles, pulling their curtains, and closing their shutters all up and down the street since we rode into sight,” said Ector. “And those few folks still out, scampered inside at the first sight of us.”
    Ob stopped his horse and looked around for some moments. “Good eyes, lad. You’re right. Something’s not right here. It’s too quiet. I should’ve been paying better heed. Let’s make haste to the gate and see what’s what.”
    The group rode at a trot to the raised portcullis that stood at an opening in the outer wall.
    “The guard has been doubled,” said Ector.
    “Tripled,” said Ob. “And there be crossbowmen up on the allures. There’s been trouble for certain.”
    Apparently recognizing Ob, the guards moved aside, bowed respectfully, and waved them through. Ob pulled up his horse, stopping a few feet from the nearest guard. “What trouble?” he said.
    The young blond-haired man looked uncertain and turned to his fellows for support, but they were busy staring at their boots.
    “Speak, you dolt,” said Ob. “What goes on here? Why have we got so many men on the wall?”
    “A patrol has gone missing, Castellan,” said the guard.
    Theta raised an eyebrow at that.
    Ob paused for a moment and stared at the guard, but the man offered nothing more. Ob turned toward his companions. “Let’s get to the citadel. There is more to this than just some overdue patrol and I aim to get to the bottom of it, and quick.”
    “You didn’t tell us that you were the governor of this keep,” said Theta.
    “You didn’t ask,” said Ob. “But I’m no governor, anyhow. I’m the Castellan of Dor Eotrus, as that fool said—though I suppose, it is much the same thing.”
    “You had me fooled, you did,” said Dolan. “I figured Mr. Ector was the captain of your patrol, and that you were his chief scout.”
    “That’s what we wanted you to think,” said Ob. “The roads can be dangerous these days, even for the likes of us, so we don’t always reveal who is who when we come upon strangers on the road, especially if they’re stinking foreigners. No offense. But since you’ve now taken an interest and we’ve made it safe and sound to the Dor, I’ll tell you that Ector is Lord Eotrus’s son. The gatemen were bowing to him, not me. I don’t go in for that treatment and they know it. Now let’s move.”
     
     

III
    THE WAILING
     
    Angry wood screamed as the stairwell door burst open. Startled, Brother Claradon Eotrus's hand went to his sword hilt as several figures raced through the portal onto the tower's roof. Standing beside Claradon, Par Tanch spun toward the new arrivals in a panic. Death flared in his eyes and blue fire licked the apex of his staff, but the wizard’s aspect softened and he lowered his ensorcelled weapon at the sight of Sir Ector Eotrus's haggard face. At the young nobleman's heels were Ob, Theta, and Dolan.
    Ector, clad in a heavy cloak over combat armor, silver and polished, approached his older brother and Tanch, Ob following, while Theta strode past them to the crenellated parapet, and Dolan disappeared into the shadows by the stairwell’s bulkhead. Enshrouded in a midnight blue cloak, Theta stood silent and transfixed, gazing westward through the starlight at the Vermion Forest, his hand curiously cupped behind his ear as if listening for something.
    “Thank the gods you’ve returned,” said Par Tanch, though his gaze was affixed on the mammoth figure at the parapet—a man heretofore unknown to him. “We were afraid you hadn’t got our message.”
    “We got no message,” said Ob. “What’s going on? Your delicate back acting up again? Or did you lose your