Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) đ
- Author: Jonathan Michael
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Elder squeezes his eyes shut and shoves fists into them to rub away the nightmare heâs witnessing. âWhat is happening?â
The door now barred with an armoire allows Stone time to collect his thoughts. He knows this wonât thwart the assailants permanently because whatever created those loud noises broke through the thick façade of his home. So why would a heavy piece of furniture keep them from entering a bedchamber?
âJaymes!â Stone whispers with aggression.
The circular tower, twenty paces in diameter, doesnât allow too many hiding places. Stone checks the closet first, rifling through the clothes, searching behind them twice.
Elder digs through the mountain of frilly pillows on the bed, tossing them on the floor.
Stone whips around and dives to the ground to look under the bed. Sweat drips from his forehead. The warm breeze relieves it a bit.
The window!
As he pokes his head out into the open air, he glimpses a small figure scurrying around the bend of the tower.
âJay!â No response. âI think I just saw her on the ledge, Elder.â
Stone hurdles over the sill and lands on a thin ledge outside the window. Tardily aware of his carelessness, he fumbles for the window and latches on tight. His bold younger sister canât go anywhere except the roof, so he has time for caution.
âElder! Câmon!â
âMe too? Whatâs going on?â There are too many questions without answers anchoring his feet to the floor. What business do they have out on the ledge?
âI donât know. Itâs not good. Just get out here.â
Stone looks down, and his face turns pale. With hardly anything to hold onto, a fall wouldnât be fatal, but would test his fate. Even more, sweaty bare feet are bound to test his balance and agility more than the tiny ledge already would have. He eases forward.
Elder follows.
The armoire vibrates. A violent rumble overtakes it, and small hairline cracks form in an isolated area before the entire piece bursts. Shrapnel flies throughout the bedchamber as bright green vines crawl through the remnants. The children take the cue and muster the necessary courage to get moving faster.
After shifting down the ledge and climbing over a few parapets of the layered roof, Stone lifts his head over the upper deck.
âJaymes!â He bounds over the last parapet. Sheâs huddled on the far end of the roof. âJaymes! Are you alright? Are you hurt?â he yells. Her head is hidden between her legs, but sheâs alive, and safe.
Elder, having followed close behind, lumbers over the roofâs edge, mumbling frustration under his breath. Scaling the McLarin Manor before sunrise wasnât on the agenda.
âElder, we need to get off the roof,â Stone urges, pacing up and down the parapet with sharp glances to the fatal drop below. He stops and looks out toward the Great Oak Forest, searching for anything that can help. âIdeas?â
âHow about the way we just came?â Elder suggests. âWe donât know what these men are after.â
âOr why theyâre so eager to catch us, but their intentions are clearly uninviting and, more so, violent,â Stone adds with a scowl.
âBut we donât know what they want. Do you? Your parents are important people, so maybe the Taoiseach was invited.â
âMother? Father?â Stone mutters. His first thought was to protect his sister, then to flee. He hadnât stopped to think what may have become of his parents. Were these men after them too? Did they get taken?
He shoves the emotions down and studies his surroundings. The forest! The distance to the nearest branches is a spread. But thereâs no way down without risking the fall.
âDonât do it, lad.â A low voice sounds. âYouâll break your legs attempting that jump. Calm down. There is no need to run from us.â The Taoiseach stands at the opposite side of the roof and gestures toward two men standing on either side of him. Itâs the same two Sprhowts that were in the hall with him.
Theyâre large men of equal size to the Taoiseach. One with short, dark-brown hair, the other with shoulder-length, golden locks. Both are dressed in the same fashion as the Taoiseach with the standard cross-sash warriorâs tunic. And each is equipped with a pair of katanas strapped to his back. They look as if they would rather enjoy ripping off the heads of children. Thereâs no doubt they are here for a battle. Who do they intend on battling?
âWhat would you like us to do with the extra brat?â one of the men asks.
âHeâll join them. Wrong time to be acquainted with a McLarin, I suppose.â The Taoiseachâs facial features distort unnaturally, like a wave of discolored flesh eager to burst out. It fades back to normal.
Elderâs gaze narrows on the Taoiseach. His curiosity keeps him grounded despite the underlying threat.
Then, green vines dart toward the children. They grow at a rapid pace, ejecting from one of the Sprhowtsâ fingertips. Taboo! Heâs augmented his body.
Stone looks down to his sister with a distant stare. Heâs out of options. Stone steals Jaymes from the rooftop and throws her over his shoulder. He steps onto the parapet and, with a gentle push, falls.
Fear overtakes Elderâs curiosity, and he leaps after Stone.
Stoneâs hands brush against the branches, one after another after another as his stomach hits his throat. But even with Jay clutched under one arm, he manages a secure grip on a lonely outstretched limb, which reduces his plummet to a gentle rappel.
Elderâs velocity sends him plummeting past the two. Thereâs a vacancy plastered on his face that says Goodbye, Stone.
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