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

back of my hand against his flesh. Cold. For a body anyways. As if he’s been frozen. Petrified maybe. There’s no rot, but no life either. If there were life, though, I would have to rectify that. Poor soul. Someone, a Hiberneyt, has been abusing their talents and dabbling in the taboo.

He has a black mark on his ear. The mark of a slave. The same mark the Taoiseach implanted on Stone, except a slave’s is more visible on their upper ear. This couldn’t possibly have been our visitor’s doing, could it? We’re only a days’ walk from our hideaway. How could we have not known about this? The construction of the rails. The labor force who could’ve effortlessly stumbled upon us. Maybe that is who our visitor was. A survivor of this massacre. And we fled when we could’ve helped. Though, our visitor could’ve just as easily been the assailant who did this. We should get back to Stone. No. If we were visited by the Hiberneyt responsible, then he’s already dead. I have to stick to my duty. I have to protect Jaymes.

I can’t mention this to her, or she’ll want to return home.

Jay, not to my surprise, has her own priorities. But what’s shocking is she has made it down from the tree and rigged a litter with a few fallen cedar branches and weaved tiger palms. And she intends for me to tow her. Reluctantly, I acquiesce.

It’s not long before she decides she needs to stretch her legs. I understand the anxiety and frustration she must feel being dragged over the rough terrain all morning. It would drive me mad to be so handicapped. Like having the energy of an ape trapped within the wretched muscles of a sloth’s body.

Jay hobbles around, but it doesn’t take long before she feels nauseous and dizzy. I assist her back into the litter and fetch some water in a nearby creek. Grateful for Jay’s resourcefulness, I utilize my oasis pouch she crafted from leftover palms. Her personality would never lead me to believe she’s capable of such things, but she is full of hidden talents. She truly is remarkable.

After we guzzle the much-needed refreshments, I tow her for a few more hours until, for the first time in four seasons, we hit a change in scenery. The muggy gloom of the forest opens up to a refreshing, vibrant green meadow surrounded by the murky Scarlet Delta. All accompanied by an overwhelming bright-blue sky overhead.

“Look!” I gesture toward the horizon. It’s been too many seasons since any of us have seen a true horizon where the sky and mountains touch. The distant hills caress the blue sky for leagues upon leagues. I can see blue skies from the eastern Cypress Marsh to the Scarlet Delta fingering out northward, and to the Garnet Plains spreading across the west like a giant, green blanket. It’s breathtaking.

I shift my gaze to see Jay’s reaction, but she lies in the litter asleep. It’s for the best, I suppose. She would have enjoyed the scenery, though. Stone more so. He always was the nature lover among us. Always observing, watching over the forest as if it were a beautiful young maiden you couldn’t take your eyes off. I hope he’s okay.

The novelty doesn’t last long. The beautiful scenery surrenders to the sweltering heat pounding down upon us as though the high sun were a flaming mallet. I accept the beating, regardless. My bones have been decaying from residing in the dark, humid forest for so long.

“We’ve made it.” I breathe in and exhale a deep breath. Greenport is a short distance west of here. Or is it east? I look toward the horizon both east and west in search of a landmark. Something familiar. Something to prevent me from leading us astray. I pull Jay into the shade of a short, majestic palm on the forest’s edge while I figure out what direction to head next.

To the west, all that can be seen is a vast, green meadow speckled with varying colors of wildflowers pinned between the Broken Forest and the Scarlet Delta. Tight game trails meander it, and debris washes up from the delta, but there’s no other indication Greenport might be in that direction. To the east it’s the same. We’re marooned with beautiful beaches that go on forever. The air smells sweet and refreshing with an occasional waft of bogwart when a gust of wind picks up. I look left; I look right, then back left again. I don’t see any landmarks dictating which direction the small fishing village is.

I plop down in the shade beside Jaymes and pout. “Jay,” I whisper to her, “what would you do? Which way, Jay?”

I realize I’ve been spending too much time with Stone. He’s always been hesitant and thoughtful with his decisions. I remain seated and ponder for a while longer until my mind drifts.

I look to the east and wonder what lies beyond the Cypress Marsh. I’ve never seen a map charted beyond it. Aha!

Maybe that’s why Stone approaches his decisions with thought rather than instinct. A good idea surfaces every now and then.

I recall the geography lessons I had as a child. My father required I learn all cities, villages, and townships in the realm. He was relentless when it came to my studies. He pushed my talents hard and my knowledge harder. But only factual knowledge. He didn’t find it useful to fill my head with theories and legends of the past. I suppose it worked because I have a clear recollection of where the quaint fishing village lies on a map. It’s closer to the mouth of the Scarlet than to where the delta dumps into the Cypress Marsh.

Gazing at the eastern horizon, I study the waters of the Scarlet Delta. They’re shallow with vast muddy berms breaking the surface. The meadow itself has