Of Blood And Fire Ryan Cahill (nice books to read .txt) 📖

not think us rude for laughing. It is a laugh of joy. It has been a long time since we have met new friends. Sometimes we forget that you have never seen one of our kind before. The world is not as we once knew it.” There was a quiet reflection in Asius’s eyes.

Giants. The word echoed in Calen’s head. From every story he was told as a child, the giants were hunted and killed to the last by the empire. They were shrouded in such mystery for so long that he had never considered them more than legend, old wives’ tales. Yet here they were, right in front of him. He had always imagined that they would be… different? Some bards and storytellers, like Therin, told stories of how the giants were great city builders, shipwrights and scholars. But most painted them as savages; ten-foot-tall monsters with gnarled teeth and a vicious bloodlust – more similar to Uraks.

“I thought the giants were gone. They have not been seen in centuries. Where have you been?” Calen couldn’t help but throw Rist a dirty look. Rist never cared much for sensitivity when his curiosity was involved. And the more of his questions were answered, the greater his curiosity became. It seemed counterintuitive to Calen. Surely an answer should sate your curiosity, not stoke it?

Asius noticed Calen’s glare. “No, no, it is okay. The questions are natural. We have had long enough to ponder the answers. There are few of us left – not that there were ever many of us at all. We Jotnar are not like you humans. There are a lot less of us than you, but we live a lot longer. It is true—” Asius paused for a moment, clasping Senas’s hand. He cast an eye towards Larion, who had a melancholy look on his face. “Fane and his armies hunted our kind to near extinction. We were a strong and proud people, but even we could not withstand the force that was thrown at us. Many of our closest friends and family are now part of the earth once more. As we were, so we will always be.”

“As we were, so we will always be,” Senas and Larion repeated in a hushed whisper.

“However, there were a few of us who survived by hiding and seeking aid from old friends.” Asius smiled faintly towards Aeson. “In truth, I do not know how many of us are left. We stay in small groups and do not communicate often – it would be too dangerous to do so. But with luck and hope, that will not always be the way. When the time comes, the others will answer the call.”

“I see,” Rist replied, deep in thought. “Why risk showing yourselves to us? We could tell everyone we met.”

Calen had to suppress the urge to curse. These were creatures of legend. It was not right to question them so.

“In truth, little one, nobody would believe you.” Asius’s smile was mirthless.

There was silence for a long moment. “May I ask you one more question?”

Asius nodded. “Of course, little one. If we do not ask, then we will never know.”

That seemed to encourage Rist. The village elders usually shut down his curiosity without a second thought. “Curiosity killed the kat,” Calen heard Verna Gritten’s voice echo in his head.

“Earlier, when you saved Calen and Erik, was that magic?” Rist leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glittering in the firelight.

Aeson raised a questioning eyebrow towards Asius, who waved him away.

“Yes, little one. That is what you know as magic. Although, we refer to it as the Spark.” Asius’s eyes lingered on Rist, a knowing smile on his face. “You—”

“The axe?” Calen threw his hand over his mouth. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He had not meant to say that out loud. He was as bad as Rist.

Asius turned to him, still smiling. “Your curiosity is warming, little one. Most humans shun what they do not understand. What you refer to is a nithrál. In the common tongue, it would be ‘Soulblade’. It is a powerful weapon, created through the threads of the Spark, unique to whoever summons it. It takes many years of focus and learning before one can summon their Soulblade. It is an ability that most never achieve.”

Soulblade. Images of the giant – Jotnar – swinging the axe of glowing red light flashed through Calen’s mind. He felt the power radiating from it as it sliced through the Uraks chest. It was a weapon, the likes of which he had never seen. How could any man stand against such a thing?

As the night grew older, Rist’s questions seemingly had no end, and neither did Asius’s enthusiasm for answering them. Dann, Erik, and Dahlen slipped into the world of dreams, lying unconscious around the fire. Larion and Aeson had their own conversation, mostly in hushed whispers. Calen couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but it all seemed to centre around whatever was in the satchel that Larion cradled.

Calen wanted to know the answers to Rist’s questions. They were questions he himself wanted to ask. Though, the one question that subdued all others in his mind, was the subject of Aeson and Larion’s conversation – what was in that satchel. What was it that the empire soldiers wanted to find so desperately? Or more importantly, what was it that Calen had killed a man for. He shivered at the thought of it. He had taken a man’s life, and he didn’t even know why. I need to know why.

Calen shuffled closer to Aeson and Larion, careful not to make too much noise as he inched himself along the ground. He leaned his head over as subtly as he could, straining to make out what Aeson and Larion were saying.

“It is incredible,” said Larion in a hushed whisper, “The Valacian—”

All of a sudden, the voices were gone. He could hear the crackling of the fire, and the waft of