Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

to a fresh tray of exotic fruits and nuts delivered on a wooden platter and an enthusiastic Graytu telling me, Use your Instincts. Listen. Your talents are limitless. Today is the day. Not one of those days had been the day of my success. Primarily due to my infirmities, but I doubt they would have been even if I were in good health.

I lie in bed all day from sunup to sundown, anxious to be free of the confines of my stagnant bed chamber. The broken leg and cracked ribs have kept me bedridden since the incident. The Redcliffe Village is lacking Healers, so I am forced to be patient while my body mends itself. Again, not a life I am accustomed to.

Chippie has become less of an annoyance to me. I no longer see him as a meal but a friend, as Chief Graytu does. He speaks to me. And I know it is a key to befriending the Redcliffe Guardian. Chippie greets me daily when Graytu arrives, and I attempt to greet him in return, but that is all I’ve done. I can listen, but I know not how to communicate. I will keep working at it.

Helios and Coloss are both alive and well after their battle. Helios added several more scars to what a lifetime has already given him, but nothing life-threatening. All his wounds have been tended to, and he’s been residing in the elevated stable on the far side of the village while he recovers his strength.

Graytu and Fairview have convinced me to suffer through some poignant and distasteful healing techniques, promising my recovery would be hasty if I allowed it. In addition to the unnatural healing tricks, they have also proceeded to teach me the histories of the culture, the talents, the wildlife, and much more, as if I were a greenhorn in the Academy. It has been an insufferable experience all around.

“Use your Instincts. Listen. Your talents are limitless. Today is the day.” An extremely redundant comment bellows from the doorway to my hollow, and Chippie comes prancing onto my chest. I stroke his soft fur.

“Today is not the day!” I snap back at Graytu. “Yesterday was not the day. And tomorrow will not be the day. I’ve failed, Graytu. I’m not worthy.”

“Ah. I see,” he replies in a flat tone.

It flares my anger when he does that. “You see what? That a flower blooms in the night and a gopher can fly like a bat? Your words create tangles and knots in my brain. They mean nothing to me.”

“A gopher, no, but his distant cousin, the squirrel, yes. Aha! Today is the day,” Graytu replies, infuriating me yet deflating me even more.

“I told you already, I’ve failed. I’ve failed you; I’ve failed Jaymes; I’ve failed Stone; I’ve failed my family; I’ve failed my father. I don’t know how to bridge the gap. It’s hopeless. I tried befriending Coloss because I thought he was the key, but I failed. He took my gift and tossed me to the side like an infidel. I’ve trekked up and down the ravine for leagues without finding a single place to cross. Only the men of the Old Races had the power to cross that ravine and scale that wall. I’m out of ideas, and patience has fled my will.”

“Do you recall what I told you on the morning you set your regal beast and the Redcliffe Guardian into a frenzy?” Graytu asks.

“You said the same thing you always do. ‘Use your Instincts. Listen. Your talents are limitless. Today is the day.’” I say it mockingly. “And then you proceeded with an abundance of random words I cannot comprehend.”

“You are not listening. You are correct, but to be more specific, humiliation. The nut was easily obtained, and you have lost it in your haste to bury it. You have gained nothing. You must learn from your past. Do not just toss it aside to become a mere memory full of anguish and pain. You must learn.”

“Once again, your words give me a headache,” I say to him as I rub my brow.

“Not true. That is likely the brandy we’ve been feeding you to numb your pains. It was once called a hangover. Today, I’m not sure what the youth are calling it. I know you’re young, and you’ve probably never experienced one, but—”

“I know what a hangover is,” I interject. “It’s been an everyday occurrence for me since I was first incarcerated by you. And, yes, it’s still referred to as a hangover.”

“Well, there you go then. Don’t blame my tongue. You said it.”

Graytu smiles facetiously then proceeds to lecture me about everything he’s been attempting to teach me over the duration of my recovery. “Time to put aside your hangover. Today is the day for growing. Have you ever heard of Instincts?” Graytu asks.

“Of course I have.” I throw my hands in the air, and a searing pain shoots through my body, down to my legs.

“No, not instincts. Instincts. You’re sixth sense, as some may call it.”

“Yes. That’s what I just said.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me correctly. I said—”

“Yes!” I interject yet again. He truly knows how to test my patience. “I know what instincts are. I learned of it while I was at the Academy. They lecture on the topic in the stealth and guile courses. I’m no master, and my understanding is it isn’t even something you can master. It’s more of an emotion, a feeling. Something that cannot be controlled. At least not on the inside where it is truly occurring. What of it?”

“Ah… Master, you’re not. That is for certain,” he replies. I roll my eyes at him, but he fails to react. “We have two different perspectives of the same word. Yours must be sacrificed and tossed to the wayside so the wolves can devour it.