Read Online Mrythdom: Game of Time by Jasper T. Scott - Free Book Online
Authors: Jasper T. Scott
Tags: Fantasy
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thinks he can hide for long.”
“If you can track Malgore, why not the relic?”
“Magic can only track living things, and even then it is difficult unless those beings are very familiar—or very powerful. Every time someone uses magic, it’s like a beacon, shining brightly for everyone with eyes to see. The effect lingers and forms a trail that can be followed.”
“Is that why you told me to fly this way?”
“Yes, but it is Destiny’s work that brought you to Dagheim rather than someplace else. Even had I been awake I wouldn’t have been able to guide us so precisely to Malgore’s location.”
Aurelius nodded slowly as if he understood. He had a sick, crawling sensation like he should have stopped asking questions ten questions ago. They rounded a corner in the street and came into view of a broad plaza. People were crowding into it from every side with spears and shields glinting in the moonlight. In the center of the plaza was a podium upon which stood a giant man in blazing red furs with long, curly bronze hair. He held a wickedly glinting spear in one hand, and a heavy round shield in the other. Upon his head sat a furry headpiece with jagged silver spikes rising in a circle around the rim. He was looking out over the crowds, his eyes drawn skyward to the rising moon.
Aurelius and Gabrian found a place near the back of the crowd and waited until people stopped pouring into the square. After just a few minutes, the bells stopped beckoning, and the square was full. Abruptly, the man on the podium dropped his gaze and allowed his eyes to delve hungrily through the crowd. For a split second, Aurelius felt the man’s gaze linger on him and suddenly sharpen as though with anger or suspicion, but then his eyes moved on and he began to speak.
“Men of Dagheim! The time of the great hunt is upon us! The hydrons are migrating North, out of the plains and into Elder Forest. Sharpen your spears, polish your armor, and ready your shields! Tonight, we honor our families with our sacrifices of blood and sweat and flesh. Do not fear the terrors that await us! Do not flee if they come upon us! Stand firm, and you will not fall. Stand together, and we will be victorious!”
A loud shout went up and a sound like thunder split the air as assembled men began to stomp their feet. The man on the podium waited patiently for the sound to die down before continuing with his speech.
“It is a full moon tonight, fellow huntsmen, but have no fear and the mighty wolf will be afraid of you! They are drawn to your fear; they can smell it. To them, fear is weakness, and they are ever worrying the weakened edges of our ranks. So let there be no weakness! Be steadfast, and they will leave us alone. Yet . . .” Now the speaker shrugged his massive shoulders. “If not, we will kill them and turn them into coats!”
Another shout went up and the thunder of stomping feet resumed. Suddenly the speaker raised his spear and shield to the sky and clanked them together loudly, shouting, “May the blood of our ancestors protect us!”
The crowd repeated his gesture in a deafening clank of shields against spears and then they replied, “Or may we join their ranks in Vaghada!”
The man on the podium descended slowly into the cheering, stomping crowds, shaking his spear in the air for emphasis as he wove through the masses of people. Aurelius estimated there were at least three hundred men in full battle dress, some of them wearing armor beneath their heavy coats, and all of them wielding heavy round shields and long, deadly spears. Their eyes glittered fiercely in the dark, and they projected a collective aura of courage, confidence, and deadly intent.
It was a sight to behold. Aurelius turned to Gabrian in askance, and the old wizard answered him before he had a chance to voice his thoughts. “We must go with them.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we have no choice. In Nordom, every able-bodied man must join the hunt, and for this
“If you can track Malgore, why not the relic?”
“Magic can only track living things, and even then it is difficult unless those beings are very familiar—or very powerful. Every time someone uses magic, it’s like a beacon, shining brightly for everyone with eyes to see. The effect lingers and forms a trail that can be followed.”
“Is that why you told me to fly this way?”
“Yes, but it is Destiny’s work that brought you to Dagheim rather than someplace else. Even had I been awake I wouldn’t have been able to guide us so precisely to Malgore’s location.”
Aurelius nodded slowly as if he understood. He had a sick, crawling sensation like he should have stopped asking questions ten questions ago. They rounded a corner in the street and came into view of a broad plaza. People were crowding into it from every side with spears and shields glinting in the moonlight. In the center of the plaza was a podium upon which stood a giant man in blazing red furs with long, curly bronze hair. He held a wickedly glinting spear in one hand, and a heavy round shield in the other. Upon his head sat a furry headpiece with jagged silver spikes rising in a circle around the rim. He was looking out over the crowds, his eyes drawn skyward to the rising moon.
Aurelius and Gabrian found a place near the back of the crowd and waited until people stopped pouring into the square. After just a few minutes, the bells stopped beckoning, and the square was full. Abruptly, the man on the podium dropped his gaze and allowed his eyes to delve hungrily through the crowd. For a split second, Aurelius felt the man’s gaze linger on him and suddenly sharpen as though with anger or suspicion, but then his eyes moved on and he began to speak.
“Men of Dagheim! The time of the great hunt is upon us! The hydrons are migrating North, out of the plains and into Elder Forest. Sharpen your spears, polish your armor, and ready your shields! Tonight, we honor our families with our sacrifices of blood and sweat and flesh. Do not fear the terrors that await us! Do not flee if they come upon us! Stand firm, and you will not fall. Stand together, and we will be victorious!”
A loud shout went up and a sound like thunder split the air as assembled men began to stomp their feet. The man on the podium waited patiently for the sound to die down before continuing with his speech.
“It is a full moon tonight, fellow huntsmen, but have no fear and the mighty wolf will be afraid of you! They are drawn to your fear; they can smell it. To them, fear is weakness, and they are ever worrying the weakened edges of our ranks. So let there be no weakness! Be steadfast, and they will leave us alone. Yet . . .” Now the speaker shrugged his massive shoulders. “If not, we will kill them and turn them into coats!”
Another shout went up and the thunder of stomping feet resumed. Suddenly the speaker raised his spear and shield to the sky and clanked them together loudly, shouting, “May the blood of our ancestors protect us!”
The crowd repeated his gesture in a deafening clank of shields against spears and then they replied, “Or may we join their ranks in Vaghada!”
The man on the podium descended slowly into the cheering, stomping crowds, shaking his spear in the air for emphasis as he wove through the masses of people. Aurelius estimated there were at least three hundred men in full battle dress, some of them wearing armor beneath their heavy coats, and all of them wielding heavy round shields and long, deadly spears. Their eyes glittered fiercely in the dark, and they projected a collective aura of courage, confidence, and deadly intent.
It was a sight to behold. Aurelius turned to Gabrian in askance, and the old wizard answered him before he had a chance to voice his thoughts. “We must go with them.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we have no choice. In Nordom, every able-bodied man must join the hunt, and for this
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