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

The Advocate offers to help pull Jay along, but he is far too frail. I politely decline his offer and take the reins the entire way. It is my duty.

We traipse along the forest edge until Greenport comes into sight. Not more than an hour’s walk. In that time, I discover much about the man and why he’s helping me. There are some missing pieces in his story, but it’s strong enough for me to continue marching alongside him. He mentioned a young man named Elder Alderock, which could only be Stone. And that he raced ahead to find a Healer for his sister. There isn’t a chance in Susy’s four hells the Advocate could fabricate the name of Stone’s childhood mate without having heard it straight from Stone’s mouth. Right? And I wouldn’t put it past Stone to throw about some fibs to conceal his identity. But how did Stone evade our visitor? And how could he have outpaced us to Greenport? Well…outpaced us maybe, but not by a full day.

“Ha, I’ve found him, Nero,” the Advocate calls to a young gentlemen in the distance.

He also wears cassock of sorts. White with a pale-blue trim. A disciple, perhaps.

“Trot ahead and let Crescia know we’ll be arriving soon.”

The disciple doesn’t hesitate. He disappears into the village as we are still a good distance away.

The sight of him, the disciple, enthuses me. Being around others ought to trouble me with our intent to hide from the Taoiseach’s harshness, but I can’t resist the excitement to see others. It’s an odd sensation to be secluded for so long and to one day open the doors for all to see you. Like a toddler discovering sugar for the first time. The flavor is thrilling. I don’t know what to do with it other than feed my senses that ask for more after the first interaction.

With a jovial step, I survey the outlying buildings as we stroll into the village. There’s mostly small shops in the vicinity. A member of the Crimson Guard patrols near the main plaza. I should at least look in the opposite direction to conceal my face, but I don’t. Having been raised so close to the Taoiseach’s military, I know they’re stationed all throughout Vedora to maintain a policing presence. And this woman of the Crimson Guard is nothing more than a low-ranking guard doing her duty. She’s not searching for a fugitive. I do keep my head down, however, with one eye holding her in sight.

“Your safe with me, lad.” The Advocate must have noticed a change in my gait. Do I look that suspicious?

Across from the main plaza is the local House of Seasons. The Advocate appears to be leading us there.

“Let us get you some rest, shall we?”

“I don’t need any rest.” I’m taken aback by his lack of urgency, knowing very well Jay is in critical condition. “Don’t you think it wise to get Jay to a Healer? Now.”

“That is what I intend to do, lad.”

With a reluctant step, I trail behind him to the House of Seasons with Jaymes in tow. Maybe the Healer is in the House of Seasons. Could be the person the disciple ran ahead to alert.

The House of Seasons is constructed primarily of large, pale-grey stones with an immense amount of intricate detail. The architecture is by far the most sophisticated in the village from what I’ve seen thus far. At each corner of the building are towers stretching upward, emulating the ancient redwoods. Each arborous tower propagates into branches which cradle a spire. And each spire, if I didn’t know better, could pass as an authentic giant raindrop. If I recall correctly, followers of the Seezuhn religion are familiar with blown glass.

Located between the four towers is an inconceivable structure crowning the building. Glass domes are typical for any House of Seasons. I believe because they offer natural light to brush the interior. However, the dome atop this chapel is mottled with sun flares emerging from the yellow, translucent glass. What tops it off as miraculous is the way the high sun radiates off the dome, enhancing the pale-yellow tint of the glass to a bright-yellow glow. It’s a true manifestation of the sun. And no doubt makes for a furnace inside.

Two stone columns at the entrance resemble trees, similar to the towers that branch out to secure a canopy above. The canopy itself derives from several wisterias creating a tight weave with clusters of violet flowerings, making for a grand, persuasive entrance.

Above the wisteria canopy hangs Susy’s crest.

This House of Seasons is a beautiful sore thumb compared to the other eroded and industrialized buildings that infest this town. It’s a sign there are some devout believers that call this place home. A positive sign for our circumstance.

With the help of the Advocate, and a tender touch, we hoist the litter with Jaymes in it to climb a small stoop to the entrance. At the top of the stoop, the Advocate bends over to release the litter and doesn’t get back up. He clenches his back in a low arched position and lumbers over to push on the bulky wood doors. I rush to his aid, but the door pivots with ease.

The Advocate’s struggles rapidly escape me. The interior of the chapel proves to be just as dramatic as the outside. We enter a spacious, circular room with a golden glow illuminating its entirety. Extending from the main chamber are four sunken coves—one for each season, I suppose—at the base of each tower.

The air is warm and musty with a sweetness to it. Not much different than the Broken Forest during a cooling summer’s eve. Maybe a touch cooler than that. Certainly not hot and arid as I’d predicted.

Warm granite tiles cover the floor with a variety of soiled