Read Online Brother Thief (Song of the Aura, Book One) by Gregory J. Downs - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gregory J. Downs
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the stranger. “No wonder belief has foundered in Blast. Still…” he seemed to be the one thinking deeply now, looking deep inside somewhere. “If you have the chance,” he finally said, “You should visit the Shrine. In it you may find some of the answers you seek.”
“What answers?” questioned Gribly, but the Aura ignored him.
“Remember what I have told you. You are never alone. The Aura and the One who made the Aura will always give you aid when you need it most.”
“I… I’ll try,” the thief shrugged. He could feel the importance of what the stranger said, but he wasn’t sure of its significance.
“Gribly?” There, the Aura knew his name. How? Because it’s all a dream, he told himself, but he didn’t believe it very much.
“Yes?”
“Brace yourself. Adventures like yours can be dangerous.” Adventures? The gray-clad fellow suddenly stood, and Gribly followed suit. The man walked to the edge of the grassy bay and looked over it. “Goodbye… for now.”
“Goodbye? You mean this vision’s over? But I don’t know your name… even if you seem to know mine .”
“I am part of the Aura,” replied the stranger, his back still turned. “That is all you need know.” He touched his staff lightly and two fluttering, white wings like a dove’s burst from the end.
“But I want to know more ,” Gribly argued, ignoring the odd sight. “I want to know your name . Can’t you tell me that, at least?”
The young man turned, and his face had on a grin like a man who has just remembered an old joke. “I have many names, in Vast and Realm and beyond. Men know me here as Traveller. Does that satisfy you?”
“I… I guess. Traveller . Goodbye, Traveller.”
“Goodbye, little thief,” grinned the Aura, and suddenly his staff flapped its wings, pulling him off the top of the mountain and into the open air. More wings sprouted from his cap and heels, and off he floated into the distance. Gribly felt suddenly very sleepy. He slipped to his knees and then lay down, sighing with unexpected tiredness. The grass felt soft and comfortable against his cheek and legs. He was so tired…
~
The Pit Strider plunged deep into the desert. Two days and three nights passed before he was far enough from Ymeer to contact the Golden One.
In the middle of Blast desert, a circle of jagged sandstone boulders shot up from the dusty ground like the crown of a buried king. Gramling knew instantly that here was the perfect place to rejuvenate his power and contact his master.
His master went by many names, but Gramling had only ever known him by one. “Golden One, Ruler of the World and Emperor of My All, show me your face! I require your aid!”
Crouching in the First Stance, Gramling began the melodious chanting that would reach across two continents and the sea between, whispering in his master’s ear no matter where he was or what he was doing. It was risky- his master was easily angered, and detested being interrupted- but he had no other choice. Moving into the Second Stance, he closed his eyes and let the river of time and speech drown him in its flow.
At the Third Stance his words were no more than a whisper; by the time he reached the Fifth Stance they were totally inaudible.
The Six Stance came, and the flow became too strong to bear.
Gramling opened his eyes again and stopped chanting. He was on a mountain, looking out over a thin sheet of clouds and the black land beneath. He stood on a shallow, flat shelf hacked into the rock near the mountain’s peak. Dead, gray grass whispered as a hot breeze blew it like fingering fronds across the toes of his boots. The air was suffocating and thick, even this high up.
The Goldenmount. As far as he knew, there was nothing golden about it. He had never seen it from the
“What answers?” questioned Gribly, but the Aura ignored him.
“Remember what I have told you. You are never alone. The Aura and the One who made the Aura will always give you aid when you need it most.”
“I… I’ll try,” the thief shrugged. He could feel the importance of what the stranger said, but he wasn’t sure of its significance.
“Gribly?” There, the Aura knew his name. How? Because it’s all a dream, he told himself, but he didn’t believe it very much.
“Yes?”
“Brace yourself. Adventures like yours can be dangerous.” Adventures? The gray-clad fellow suddenly stood, and Gribly followed suit. The man walked to the edge of the grassy bay and looked over it. “Goodbye… for now.”
“Goodbye? You mean this vision’s over? But I don’t know your name… even if you seem to know mine .”
“I am part of the Aura,” replied the stranger, his back still turned. “That is all you need know.” He touched his staff lightly and two fluttering, white wings like a dove’s burst from the end.
“But I want to know more ,” Gribly argued, ignoring the odd sight. “I want to know your name . Can’t you tell me that, at least?”
The young man turned, and his face had on a grin like a man who has just remembered an old joke. “I have many names, in Vast and Realm and beyond. Men know me here as Traveller. Does that satisfy you?”
“I… I guess. Traveller . Goodbye, Traveller.”
“Goodbye, little thief,” grinned the Aura, and suddenly his staff flapped its wings, pulling him off the top of the mountain and into the open air. More wings sprouted from his cap and heels, and off he floated into the distance. Gribly felt suddenly very sleepy. He slipped to his knees and then lay down, sighing with unexpected tiredness. The grass felt soft and comfortable against his cheek and legs. He was so tired…
~
The Pit Strider plunged deep into the desert. Two days and three nights passed before he was far enough from Ymeer to contact the Golden One.
In the middle of Blast desert, a circle of jagged sandstone boulders shot up from the dusty ground like the crown of a buried king. Gramling knew instantly that here was the perfect place to rejuvenate his power and contact his master.
His master went by many names, but Gramling had only ever known him by one. “Golden One, Ruler of the World and Emperor of My All, show me your face! I require your aid!”
Crouching in the First Stance, Gramling began the melodious chanting that would reach across two continents and the sea between, whispering in his master’s ear no matter where he was or what he was doing. It was risky- his master was easily angered, and detested being interrupted- but he had no other choice. Moving into the Second Stance, he closed his eyes and let the river of time and speech drown him in its flow.
At the Third Stance his words were no more than a whisper; by the time he reached the Fifth Stance they were totally inaudible.
The Six Stance came, and the flow became too strong to bear.
Gramling opened his eyes again and stopped chanting. He was on a mountain, looking out over a thin sheet of clouds and the black land beneath. He stood on a shallow, flat shelf hacked into the rock near the mountain’s peak. Dead, gray grass whispered as a hot breeze blew it like fingering fronds across the toes of his boots. The air was suffocating and thick, even this high up.
The Goldenmount. As far as he knew, there was nothing golden about it. He had never seen it from the
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