Free The White Shadow Saga: The Stolen Moon of Londor by A.P. Stephens Page B

Gildan boasted. "We must
be under way now." He headed toward the front doors. "That is, if
you hold true to your word, Highbinder."
    "By all means, sir," Seth replied. "If my
being here is the will of Mudalfaen, then I vow to do whatever I
can."
    Gildan shook his head slightly. "I will
remember your saying that."
    The four stood together and were ready to
leave, but before any could lift a hand to open the way, the doors
swung open and the chamber was flooded with the full light of
morning. Their horses had been fed, brushed, and readied, and Seth
was delighted to see his mount looking refreshed, showing no sign
of the long and wearing ride to Dunane.
    "Good morning, sirs," a Dunane elf spoke.
    "Good day to you all," Gildan replied as he
neared his white steed, already fitted with its lightweight armor
of fine metal.
    Malander wasted no time on greetings but
merely leaped up onto his black horse, which wore only a simple
dark saddle and reins. The three warriors sat on their mounts and
waited as Lorn struggled upward. Finally, after some help from the
elves, he, too, sat astride his horse, whereupon the Dunane
servants let go the reins of the four chargers and returned to the
palace, each giving a short bow before disappearing inside.
    Gildan surveyed the street filled with
citizens and merchants. He took in a deep breath, paused, and then,
with a gesture of his hand, gave the call to ride. Little attention
was given to the four as they rode along.
    "What is your plan, Gildan?" Seth asked. He
wanted to know what the mercenary had in store for him and Lorn. "I
have always been one for structure and order within a plan whenever
it is possible."
    "Then you are in the wrong place," Gildan
answered. "You must realize that Londor is void of structure now."
He brushed off the small particles of dust from his jacket. "This
disorder creates greater riches for me, but it offsets your staid
mentality."
    "Then I shall await your wisdom."
    "You will receive it in full when the time
comes."
    The company cleared the bend in the road and
entered the marketplace. Smells of many things enchanted their
noses: sweet perfumes, roasting meats, and exotic scents they had
never known before.
    "How wonderful," Lorn commented to Seth. "I
adore a place of bartering."
    "I've been told that Dunane's market is one
of the finest you'll ever encounter." Seth looked around with a
smile and made sure Lorn was enjoying himself, for he knew that the
rest of the journey would not be so pleasant.
    "I have imported spices from Mugglon right
here, gentlemen!" one merchant yelled as he held up a red flask for
all to see.
    "Roasted meats of a silver henoth!" spoke
another. "Five gold pieces! What a bargain!"
    "Overpriced," Gildan laughed quietly.
    The four passed the market and came to the
last portion of Norganas's main road. The south gate came into view
shortly. Seth looked up at the observation tower that had given him
and Lorn such grief the night before. The elf-mercenary looked up
at the open archway and perceived something he did not like: three
riders entering the city, charging up the road with no indication
of slowing.
    "What the…?" Seth gasped.
    "Elves," said Lorn.
    "Worse," Gildan added.
" Northern elves." He reached
over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his sword. With one
smooth motion, Gildan pulled forward his hand, unsheathing his
beloved blade. He held the five-foot-long weapon down at his side.
"Something is not right here."

Chapter Four: A Familiar Face

    "This is strange," Seth whispered.
    "Are they friend or foe?" Lorn asked.
    "Quiet, dwarf!" Gildan commanded. "Let me
handle this! Everyone, move!" He waved his sword at those in the
street. "Stand aside, all of you!" As quickly as they were able,
the good citizens of Dunane got out of the road, jostling one
another and cramming into the alleyways, until at last the street
was clear but for Gildan and his company--and the three oncoming
riders. Gildan stared as the white horses of the