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

But he dodges her effortlessly. A sneer covers her face. The sight puts a smile on my face. Then my mind drifts to Jaymes and Stone, and my smile fades. I’m here enjoying the company of my new family. I abandoned them when they needed me most. I was so naïve. Just as my father expressed to me. The Redcliffe villagers gave me protection from what they chased head-on. I look back to Fairview. She waits patiently, studying me. “I…” I want to give that protection back. “I want to protect what is great in this world,” I say to her. “I want to become a guardian of Azure, just as Coloss is. Can you grant me that knowledge, Fairview Windblown?”

Her flat, sullen lips curl upward into a radiating smile. “Indeed, I can.”

“What’s that?” I hear a scuffle in the branches above. “Did you hear that? Voices.” I look up but see nothing. Am I hearing the squirrels? I don’t recognize the dialect to be the same as Chippie’s. But maybe each squirrel has a different voice.

“You startle so easily, Goose of House Greyson. Your father would be ashamed if he knew you were fretting over a few squirrels scurrying about the trees.” She looks to the canopy. “What you hear are your Instincts at work. Or quite possibly your Aura too. The world is a new place for you now.”

“What do you know of my father?” I ask dubiously, ignoring everything else she said.

“Oh, I know much about your father.”

“Like what? How?”

“I am Old Lady Windblown. I know all there is to know of this world.”

“Mock me all you want. I will force it out of you if I must.”

“Such a violent temperament from a pupil who has clearly worked past such trivial actions. There is no need for force. Maybe a bit of persuading, however.” Fairview winks at me, followed by one of her playful grins.

I don’t understand her intentions. She must know nothing will ever come of the two of us. She must be at least five times my age. Gross. Not understanding the humor behind her remarks, I look upon her sternly and silently.

“Ah, very well then. You’re not adventurous enough for me anyhow. Yes, I knew your father.”

“Knew?” I bristle at the poor choice of grammar.

“Yes, knew.”

“What do you mean?” Fairview’s green eyes grow solemn. The playful and inappropriate atmosphere abruptly shifts to a darker tone.

“You don’t know, then.”

“Know what?”

“Your father…”

“Is he ill? Does he need help?”

“He’s dead, Goose.”

“Wh…” My posture stiffens. My mouth agape. “How?” I lean forward and rise to my feet. “What do you mean, dead?”

“There is only one meaning for the word,” she replies flatly.

“This isn’t true. You don’t know what you speak of. He’s the general of the Crimson Guard. A general, especially one of his magnitude, doesn’t just…die.” I pace in front of her, unable to stand still. “There are people who prevent those kinds of things. People like you. He isn’t dead. He can’t be.”

A noise from inside of Fairview’s hollow distracts me. I halt my pacing and spy the shadows. A throat clears, but the source is hidden.

“Sorry to interrupt the private moment here.” A sinister voice spills from her hollow. “I understand the magnitude when you first learn of your father’s demise. It’s not a moment you’ll treasure, I can assure you. But let me spare you.”

A man steps through the portal of the hollow into view. He’s a tall man with ghostly skin. He has a hooded cross-sash with the hood up, but I can see he is bald. Red, ornate tattoos on his forehead and around his eyes act as a permanent mask. Aside from his cold appearance, the more intriguing feature is his eyes. They’re almost pure white. Only the retina is visible with a thin silver corona surrounding it.

“I don’t have a lot of time. Not today, anyhow. And fortunately for you, you don’t either, so you won’t have to experience the sorrow, the anger, the regret, and so on from the news of your father’s death. I will spare you from all of that.”

“Your Aura is strong, Goose,” Fairview interrupts casually. “Your Instincts can use some fine-tuning, however.”

My Aura?

“It’s been a long time,” she says to the intruder. She doesn’t bother turning around to see whom she speaks to. She obviously knows this man by the sound of his malicious voice.

“So it has.”

“You were exiled. What business do you have in this land?” Fairview asks.

“I didn’t think your red cliff was red enough.”

“Goose, run!”

I fail to follow her command. The lack of explanation of what’s unraveling before me gives me no indication of urgency. The tall, dark man moves directly behind Fairview and produces a blade from inside his cloak.

“Goodbye, Fairview,” he says before sliding the blade methodically across her throat from ear to ear.

Fairview grabs at the loose skin at her neck and pulls it tight. A meager attempt to stop the bleeding, but better than nothing, I suppose. However, there isn’t much blood pouring out from between her fingers as I would expect. She lets go of the laceration, and it’s gone. “This isn’t the end.” She sputters out a few words accompanied by some blood.

“Oh, Fairview, you’re always holding onto something that isn’t there. Faith is not real. It is just a dream the weak grasp on to because their lives are meaningless without it. This is the end. The end of your regime with Harris and the others who claim to be The First Four. Your time is up. And it is about four hundred seasons overdue. Or has it been longer than that?”

Fairview grips her own blade and puts it through his thigh. The man acts as if he’s not aware. He doesn’t flinch the slightest. He sees