Read Online Trials of the Hierophant: Vol. II of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy by Ethan Risso - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ethan Risso
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hood up and let it drape delicately over his head before he mounted his horse. His fine hair blew about, unable to be contained within the confines of the hooded cloak.
Two guards accompanied him through the streets to the Denorheim province. What Caden could have found on the outskirts of the province was unknown to him, but he was intrigued. Perhaps he had been able to garner more information on Braith and Madoc. Although, with Braith relinquishing his throne, the threat would soon subside.
His earlier prediction had been correct. Snow poured from the sky not long after the party left the walls of his estate.
“My lord, look yonder,” said one of the guards, pointing to the west.
“I’ve never seen a herd of deer travel so,” the other guard said. “It is an omen. Deer are the faeries’ cattle!”
“They are not deer,” Kendric said, shaking his head. “Come, we must travel quickly before the storm grows stronger.”
No, they were not deer, although from a distance they resembled deer. Kendric had only heard them described in books of old, but he would know them anywhere. They were ancient beasts, the Chwyrn Droedio, and they were worth more gold than his entire house could afford. He was grateful the guards did not recognize what they were. They would have insisted on tracking them to sell, which Kendric could not bring himself to do.
The guard was, however, correct about their sudden presence: it was an omen. And if a herd of deer meant something important, a herd of ancients must mean something far more significant. What could it be? Good fortune, perhaps. He would discuss what he saw with Caden.
Though moors existed in the southern part of the province, giving the small town of Moorgard its namesake, marshlands filled the north. Normally, this would have provided dangerous conditions for travel, but the days had been cold and the nights even colder. For this reason, the ground was frozen firmly beneath the hooves of their horses, and provided safe passage.
Kendric had been to the sentry only once before, and as he approached it, he saw that it was as he remembered. Abandoned. Left in ruins. It had not been used for practical purposes in some time, yet a hint of its previous glory remained. Amid the crumbling walls, a lone, majestic tower continued to stand and keep watch over the sea.
“This damn place would topple in a soft wind,” one guard said gruffly.
Kendric chuckled as he dismounted and tied the horse’s reins loosely to one of the wooden girders near the door. “Then let us be thankful the storm has not broken and only light snow falls.”
He carefully peered into the room, pleased that Caden had chosen such a secluded area, and that their meeting would not be impeded upon. It was pitch black, save for the dim beam of light from the open door. He took a few steps into the darkness, and called out, “Caden?”
There was only silence.
“Caden?” he called out once more.
“In here,” came a quiet response from across the dark room.
Kendric smiled and walked forward, expecting an embrace. Instead, he felt rough hands grip his arms from either side. He struggled for his sword, but before he could grab the hilt, he felt a powerful punch to his gut. He lurched forward in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, gasping for breath.
“What matter is this!” one of his men shouted, unsheathing his sword.
Kendric heaved for air and attempted to pull away as a familiar voice shouted, “Stay your swords!” It was Senator Grigor Boraste.
When he opened his eyes, Kendric could see glowing torches, held by the magisters under Vaughn Garanth’s leadership. Boraste and Valifor stood in the center of the crowd. They no longer bore the sigil of the wheel upon their tunics, however. Instead, it was the tower—the sigil of House Boraste.
Beyond the group of magisters, he could see Caden—beaten and bloodied, slumped in a chair. One of Boraste’s men stood behind him, holding a dagger at
Two guards accompanied him through the streets to the Denorheim province. What Caden could have found on the outskirts of the province was unknown to him, but he was intrigued. Perhaps he had been able to garner more information on Braith and Madoc. Although, with Braith relinquishing his throne, the threat would soon subside.
His earlier prediction had been correct. Snow poured from the sky not long after the party left the walls of his estate.
“My lord, look yonder,” said one of the guards, pointing to the west.
“I’ve never seen a herd of deer travel so,” the other guard said. “It is an omen. Deer are the faeries’ cattle!”
“They are not deer,” Kendric said, shaking his head. “Come, we must travel quickly before the storm grows stronger.”
No, they were not deer, although from a distance they resembled deer. Kendric had only heard them described in books of old, but he would know them anywhere. They were ancient beasts, the Chwyrn Droedio, and they were worth more gold than his entire house could afford. He was grateful the guards did not recognize what they were. They would have insisted on tracking them to sell, which Kendric could not bring himself to do.
The guard was, however, correct about their sudden presence: it was an omen. And if a herd of deer meant something important, a herd of ancients must mean something far more significant. What could it be? Good fortune, perhaps. He would discuss what he saw with Caden.
Though moors existed in the southern part of the province, giving the small town of Moorgard its namesake, marshlands filled the north. Normally, this would have provided dangerous conditions for travel, but the days had been cold and the nights even colder. For this reason, the ground was frozen firmly beneath the hooves of their horses, and provided safe passage.
Kendric had been to the sentry only once before, and as he approached it, he saw that it was as he remembered. Abandoned. Left in ruins. It had not been used for practical purposes in some time, yet a hint of its previous glory remained. Amid the crumbling walls, a lone, majestic tower continued to stand and keep watch over the sea.
“This damn place would topple in a soft wind,” one guard said gruffly.
Kendric chuckled as he dismounted and tied the horse’s reins loosely to one of the wooden girders near the door. “Then let us be thankful the storm has not broken and only light snow falls.”
He carefully peered into the room, pleased that Caden had chosen such a secluded area, and that their meeting would not be impeded upon. It was pitch black, save for the dim beam of light from the open door. He took a few steps into the darkness, and called out, “Caden?”
There was only silence.
“Caden?” he called out once more.
“In here,” came a quiet response from across the dark room.
Kendric smiled and walked forward, expecting an embrace. Instead, he felt rough hands grip his arms from either side. He struggled for his sword, but before he could grab the hilt, he felt a powerful punch to his gut. He lurched forward in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, gasping for breath.
“What matter is this!” one of his men shouted, unsheathing his sword.
Kendric heaved for air and attempted to pull away as a familiar voice shouted, “Stay your swords!” It was Senator Grigor Boraste.
When he opened his eyes, Kendric could see glowing torches, held by the magisters under Vaughn Garanth’s leadership. Boraste and Valifor stood in the center of the crowd. They no longer bore the sigil of the wheel upon their tunics, however. Instead, it was the tower—the sigil of House Boraste.
Beyond the group of magisters, he could see Caden—beaten and bloodied, slumped in a chair. One of Boraste’s men stood behind him, holding a dagger at
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