The Free Kingdoms (Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

khalif and his wife? Dead, but not gathered by the Harvester. Wights. Slaves of the dark wizards.”
    A shudder rippled through Darik, as he remembered the gibbering wights on the night they escaped from Graiyan’s kitchens.
    “Now,” Markal said, “we’ve got many miles to go on foot yet.” The wizard walked briskly, and Darik hurried to follow.
    Scree was jittery, struggling every time they made a sudden move. Markal had fashioned a simple hood from an old rag, and when he put it over the falcon’s head, this calmed her somewhat.
    The day was warm. They found a cart-rutted road with thick briars of wild berries on either side. The air held the rich scent of fertile fields, while bees and other insects bustled about to finish their business before autumn. Meadow Down was a small free kingdom, mostly farmlands and a few villages. They met men pulling carts or repairing the stone walls, who invariably greeted them with a “Ho there, lads!” and a friendly tip of the cap.
    “You wait here just a minute,” Markal said when they reached the edge of a small village. “I can move faster on my own.”
    Darik sat in the shade of an apple tree and ate a few pieces of fruit he found lying in the grass. He’d drifted off to sleep in the warm sun by the time Markal returned leading two horses. “Now we can make some time,” Markal said.
    Later they passed three small girls picking blackberries from a hedge. They passed the girls’ mother around the next bend and the woman stopped them and gave them a heavy cloth of blackberries. “To sweeten your travels, friends,” she said.
    Darik turned to Markal after they left her behind, munching happily on the berries. The berries were just the right mixture of tartness and sweetness. “Don’t they know they’re about to be invaded?”
    “Most have heard something by now, but nobody takes it seriously. When you have a hundred different kingdoms, each one thinks it might escape the fighting. It doesn’t help that King Daniel has made no move to gather an army.”
    This news alarmed Darik more than the king’s illness. “So the enemy walks into Eriscoba and nobody stands in his way? Then the war is already over.”
    “So we’re out for a pointless stroll today, are we?” He shook his head. “You forget the Order and the Brotherhood, both bitter enemies of the dark wizard. Picture five hundred men like Whelan riding into battle backed by two score wizards, many significantly more powerful than myself. We’ll make Montcrag look like a tavern brawl. That’s why the enemy hesitates. He wants to bring every possible weapon into position.”
    “You don’t think he’ll return to Balsalom?”
    “Hard to say,” Markal said. “But I would guess no. Controlling the mountains will cost him dearly. If he retreats, he risks losing that advantage and giving the Free Kingdoms a chance to organize.”
    They spent the night in a farmhouse in Fairhaven, a small kingdom of millers and grazers north of the Citadel, but south of Meadow Down, nestled in a single valley between two hills. Wind chimes hung in rows outside every house throughout Fairhaven. Indeed, throughout Eriscoba. Some chimes were carved wooden tubes, others polished brass, still others rows of glass circles. When the wind blew, the air rang with the sound of them all. Darik missed Balsalom’s crickets, but found the chimes comforting.
    Memory chimes, Markal explained. Each chime represented a friend or family member who’d died. People often made their own memory chimes, putting in the details for which they wanted to be remembered.
    Fairhaven stood close to the Wylde, and the forest sent tendrils of trees into the valley. Darik heard snuffling outside the barn that night. A strong animal smell trickled beneath the doors. The horses neighed nervously, but not in terror, and Darik thought it likely that such creatures often came sniffing from the forest at night.
    He didn’t know if the creature came back because he