Read Online Ibenus (Valducan series) by Seth Skorkowsky - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Seth Skorkowsky
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was a fortress. Again, the nagging fear that maybe he shouldn't have come tugged at the back of his mind.
Taras pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Hesitating, Gerhard opened his mouth, unsure what to say, but Alex placed a hand on his shoulder and gently led him through.
An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror greeted him as Gerhard stepped inside. The fragrance of flowers and rosemary from a bulging bouquet atop a foyer table threatened to make his eyes water. A swirling pattern of green and white marble decorated the floor, the design mostly hidden beneath the bright pinks, and blues of a Turkish rug. He followed Alex, passing a suit of armor elaborately etched in strange geometric designs, every centimeter engraved, and then past a large room.
A young woman with curly dark hair sat in a wingback chair, a curved, gold-hilted sword across her lap. She turned her head as they walked by, giving Alex a smile. One of her eyes was nestled within a purple bruise. A brown-haired man with a heart-shaped face sat across from her. A sword handle protruded from his waist. To his left, a blonde with an upturned button nose looked up from a laptop screen and watched the newcomers with open curiosity.
Alex gave but a moment's glance, nodded to the man, and continued on. "The Holy Order of Valducan," he said, his cane tapping on hall's wooden floor, "originated between the first and second Crusades. Consisting of eight knights, each armed with a sacred weapon, they swore an oath to eliminate the greatest threat facing mankind: demons."
Metal inlaid symbols glinted from the square mahogany floor tiles, their shapes reminiscent of the armor they had passed. Some of the glyphs adorned the middles, while others the edges or corners, each one unique. Looking up, Gerhard scanned the portraits lining the walls, men and women of different eras and races, all holding a weapon before them. Was this some religious group?
"In 1148 they were excommunicated from the Church for refusing to destroy Khirzoor, a Muslim scimitar." Alex opened a door, its silver knob decorated with polished stones. "Since then, the Valducans have lived in secrecy, sworn to protect the sacred weapons of the hidden war."
Gerhard followed him into a long dining room. More portraits and antiques decorated the oriental red walls. A dark, polished table ran nearly the length of the room. Another bouquet crowned its center, filling the room with a strange aroma. Before it, laid out on a folded velvet cloth, rested Umatri, his gilded blade hidden within his polished scabbard.
Gerhard's mouth suddenly felt dry. He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he crossed a thick rug and reached for the keris. His fingers found the smooth wood and clutched it. He closed his eyes, pulling it close to his chest. The relief of their reunion washed through him in a euphoric wave. For an instant he imagined he felt the grip ripple beneath his touch as it had in the dreams, as if muscles moved beneath wooden skin. It was his. Or…was he Umatri's? It didn't matter. They were together and he'd never let him out of his care again.
"Would you care for a drink?" Alex asked after nearly a minute of silence.
Gerhard blinked.
The old man was pouring an amber drink from a crystal decanter. He turned, offering a stemmed glass.
"No," Gerhard said, finding his voice. "No thank you."
Alex nodded and stoppered the bottle. "The bond is such a beautiful thing." He pulled a chair out beside Gerhard and eased himself down. "If I could live a thousand years it would never grow old to see."
"The bond?"
"The bond with a holy weapon." Alex gestured to an empty seat. "Please."
Glancing back, Gerhard realized Taras had left the room, if he'd even entered it. Gerhard hadn't noticed.
"Taras is preparing food for us. It will give us some time to talk."
Gerhard pulled the chair out and sat, still gripping Umatri as if the old man might somehow try to wrestle it from him. "What do you mean, bond with a holy
Taras pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Hesitating, Gerhard opened his mouth, unsure what to say, but Alex placed a hand on his shoulder and gently led him through.
An enormous floor-to-ceiling mirror greeted him as Gerhard stepped inside. The fragrance of flowers and rosemary from a bulging bouquet atop a foyer table threatened to make his eyes water. A swirling pattern of green and white marble decorated the floor, the design mostly hidden beneath the bright pinks, and blues of a Turkish rug. He followed Alex, passing a suit of armor elaborately etched in strange geometric designs, every centimeter engraved, and then past a large room.
A young woman with curly dark hair sat in a wingback chair, a curved, gold-hilted sword across her lap. She turned her head as they walked by, giving Alex a smile. One of her eyes was nestled within a purple bruise. A brown-haired man with a heart-shaped face sat across from her. A sword handle protruded from his waist. To his left, a blonde with an upturned button nose looked up from a laptop screen and watched the newcomers with open curiosity.
Alex gave but a moment's glance, nodded to the man, and continued on. "The Holy Order of Valducan," he said, his cane tapping on hall's wooden floor, "originated between the first and second Crusades. Consisting of eight knights, each armed with a sacred weapon, they swore an oath to eliminate the greatest threat facing mankind: demons."
Metal inlaid symbols glinted from the square mahogany floor tiles, their shapes reminiscent of the armor they had passed. Some of the glyphs adorned the middles, while others the edges or corners, each one unique. Looking up, Gerhard scanned the portraits lining the walls, men and women of different eras and races, all holding a weapon before them. Was this some religious group?
"In 1148 they were excommunicated from the Church for refusing to destroy Khirzoor, a Muslim scimitar." Alex opened a door, its silver knob decorated with polished stones. "Since then, the Valducans have lived in secrecy, sworn to protect the sacred weapons of the hidden war."
Gerhard followed him into a long dining room. More portraits and antiques decorated the oriental red walls. A dark, polished table ran nearly the length of the room. Another bouquet crowned its center, filling the room with a strange aroma. Before it, laid out on a folded velvet cloth, rested Umatri, his gilded blade hidden within his polished scabbard.
Gerhard's mouth suddenly felt dry. He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he crossed a thick rug and reached for the keris. His fingers found the smooth wood and clutched it. He closed his eyes, pulling it close to his chest. The relief of their reunion washed through him in a euphoric wave. For an instant he imagined he felt the grip ripple beneath his touch as it had in the dreams, as if muscles moved beneath wooden skin. It was his. Or…was he Umatri's? It didn't matter. They were together and he'd never let him out of his care again.
"Would you care for a drink?" Alex asked after nearly a minute of silence.
Gerhard blinked.
The old man was pouring an amber drink from a crystal decanter. He turned, offering a stemmed glass.
"No," Gerhard said, finding his voice. "No thank you."
Alex nodded and stoppered the bottle. "The bond is such a beautiful thing." He pulled a chair out beside Gerhard and eased himself down. "If I could live a thousand years it would never grow old to see."
"The bond?"
"The bond with a holy weapon." Alex gestured to an empty seat. "Please."
Glancing back, Gerhard realized Taras had left the room, if he'd even entered it. Gerhard hadn't noticed.
"Taras is preparing food for us. It will give us some time to talk."
Gerhard pulled the chair out and sat, still gripping Umatri as if the old man might somehow try to wrestle it from him. "What do you mean, bond with a holy
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