David Bishop and the Legend of the Orb T.C. Crawford (easy to read books for adults list .txt) 📖

They could smell the aroma of food being cooked in the kitchen and suddenly the King and Tyrius realized how hungry they were. They had only eaten small portions of stale bread and watered-down soup for the past few days, and that had barely been enough to sustain them. They each longed for a quick stop in the kitchen, but they knew it would be too risky.

The elder led them along the stairway until they finally reached the ground level of the palace. They came to a doorway that led into the grand entryway behind the staircase to the upper levels when the Master Elder stopped and turned toward the others.

“We are nearly there; however, the danger is far from over. The entryway is swarming with soldiers, along with the outer garden. Once we pass through the gates, we will have to make our way through the city to the Elder Chambers. If we can make it there, I can get us to the Birthplace of the World quickly” he said.

He looked old and worn. He may be hundreds of years old, but the age never seemed to show on his face until recently. Tyrius wondered if it was from the conflict, or if his time was finally coming to an end.

The elder asked if they were ready and both the King and Tyrius nodded. The elder began leading them towards the front entryway to the palace. Tyrius couldn’t help but recognize the changes within the palace. The royal flags had been taken down and replaced with a different insignia with a raven in the center of a blood red circle. Tyrius recognized the emblem; it was that of the Southern Kingdom that had once tried to take over their land for control of the orb.

The soldiers that were standing guard at the base of the grand staircase were now wearing the same colors as the new flag: black, white, and red. It was a drastic change from the royal colors of red and gold and he felt it gave them a far more sinister look that left him strangely unsettled.

As they crept past the first set of soldiers near the staircase, they came to a long open stretch between the stairs and the large palace door. There were several soldiers between them and their exit, each sentry standing in front of the dozens of pillars that lined the walkway to the palace doors. They felt exposed, despite knowing they were invisible to the soldiers as they passed them by.

They reached the final pillar before the entryway without any incident, however the Elder stopped and turned to the others and began motioning with his hands to wait. They realized the predicament. They had to wait for the doors to open before they could slip through or else they would attract the soldier’s attention.

Almost as if in response to their desperate need to escape, a loud banging suddenly rang from the large doors and echoed throughout the vast entryway. Slowly the doors began to swing open to reveal a sizable company of soldiers waiting to enter.

The soldiers wore the same dark colors of the new flag, but their overall appearances were different somehow. Tyrius couldn’t quite make it out, but that feeling of uneasiness grew each moment as the soldiers slowly began their march through the doorway, passingly mere feet in front of them.

The Elder signaled that now was their time to make their exit and quickly began moving towards the open doors. The other two followed quickly behind, making sure to make as little noise as possible despite the noise the company of soldiers were now making as they marched into the hallway.

As Tyrius passed by the soldiers he caught a glimpse of one of the passing soldier’s faces and almost yelled out in surprise. The soldier’s face was pale as a dead man, his eyes hollow and sunken, and was void of all expression. It was an army of the walking dead.

The three successfully slipped through the opening unnoticed and began winding their way out of the palace gardens and through the deserted city streets. The sky was a murky gray due to the swirling clouds that seemed to eternally hang over the city since the King was captured a few days prior. The wind was blowing steadily as if it was storming, but no rain ever came.

Tyrius and the King noticed the emptiness of the streets, only broken by the occasional patrol of soldiers – a stark contrast to the bustling metropolis that was once the greatest trading post of the kingdom. The destruction, too, was immense. Whole buildings were burned completely to the ground, leaving only a smoking rubble in its place. Abandoned food carts were left overturned with their produce rotting on the ground beside them. Whole communities were left abandoned, their doors kicked in and hanging off the hinges, creaking gently in the incessant wind. It was a sight that left the King disheartened. He had failed his people.

Here and there the trio would have to stop in an alleyway or doorway to avoid crashing into a large company of soldiers marching the streets, but other than that their journey was somber and uneventful.

Once they reached the Elder Chambers they rushed inside. It had been ransacked, as expected, but the Elder didn’t seem to care.

He quickly moved through the hallway towards the council’s meeting room, working his way around the debris and turned over furniture. Once they made their way through the rubble, the Elder flipped over the large, semi-circular table with surprising ease and began tapping the bottom of the table with his fingers.

He seemed to be tapping in no real order until finally he stopped when the sound changed slightly. He picked up a sconce that had been ripped off the wall and was lying on the floor nearby and began hammering down on the hallowed-out portion of wood. It suddenly cracked open and