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

and I pounce without hesitation. A large stick immediately follows and cracks down on my knuckles.

“Ouch!” The squirrel flutters toward the old man, races up his leg, and perches on his shoulder with a rampant chirp. “Sorry. Instincts.”

“Hardly.” He glares at me.

I extend a hand for a formal greeting. “My name is Goose. Goose Greyson, of House Greyson.”

He shakes my hand in return—a firm grip for his feeble-looking hands. “Nice to meet you, Goose Greyson of House Greyson. Let’s eat, shall we. You’re going to require a lot of training if you cannot escape the confines of a wooden cell. I’ll show you the crossing later in the evening.”

“Training? I’d rather just be on my way. My undertaking is somewhat urgent. As I mentioned, my friend is in captivity, and the only escape is through the Taoiseach. I must press on.”

“Very well, then. But remember, only the worthy shall pass. Here’s a tip—Use your Instincts. Master your listening skills. Know your talent is limitless. And today will be the day.”

“Noted. Who decides who is worthy?” I ask, irritated by his presumptions.

“You do, of course.”

“Right. Obviously. What do they call you?”

“Call me what you will. It makes no difference. I will respond. However, if it is talking behind my back you wish to do, then please call me Graytu, for that is what others refer to me as. Chief of the village, I am. Or something like that.”

“Crazy old coot,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yes, that is a common one too,” he responds and follows with a piercing whistle.

I hear a sudden rush. Of what, I’m not sure. Maybe the wind rustling the trees, but it sounds heavier than that. I look to the treetops, and the bark appears to be moving. As I focus, I realize it’s more squirrels on the move. They’re fleeing the treetops, quickly scurrying down the trunks of several trees all around us, and taking seat in front of… The Animal King.

“Let’s head out, Guardians!”

Are these…the other villagers he speaks of? I hope this isn’t the village he speaks of. Gunther warned me of this coot. What was it he said? Patience. Have patience with the animal king. What am I getting into?

“Hold on. Where are the tiger and the stallion?” His eccentricity nearly had me forgetting I didn’t travel here alone.

“Ah, yes. The tiger we butchered late last evening and is likely being prepared for brunch as we speak. The stallion—”

“What? You did what to my tiger?” I stamp toward him and grab his bicep, which feels too solid for as baggy as it looks. He easily counters my aggressive approach with a flip of his staff, knocking my knuckles and causing me to release and wince in pain.

“Wonderful! You’ve begun listening. But I thought you said it wasn’t your tiger?” Graytu marches forward without waiting for a response. “Our people would never slaughter such a magnificent beast, not for the sake of a meal. The forest already provides us with the nutrition we need.” He reaches under his kilt once again and pulls out a pear this time. “A pear solo and you’ll go rolo; a pear in pairs ignites your inner flares.”

“What?”

“I don’t have another to share. My apologies. This second one is rather important to me, for I’d rather not go rolo.” He reveals a second pear from underneath his kilt.

Where is he hiding this fruit? And how could he possibly know that expression? Could it be he knows my grandmother? Maybe my father too? Maybe he has word of him. I suppose it may have been a common idiom with his generation. Just an expression to get children to eat a meal.

“Helios,” I reply, eager to get off the topic of the awkward under-kilt pears.

“Helios? The regal beast! Yes, of course. Helios is in good care, as is the stallion. You will see them again when you fail at the Redcliffe Crossing.”

“Fail. I don’t fail. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re absolutely correct. You don’t fail. You only grow. And you’re welcome,” he replies with a salty grin.

Graytu escorts me directly to a ravine with an elder fig tree rooted along its edge. I hoped we would pass through his village to reassure me these rodents aren’t his villagers, but I didn’t see a single dwelling or any sign of civilization. The Mad Animal King, more like it.

The ravine looks to be leagues deep. With the rough cliff face bulging in and out, I cannot see the bottom, but I know it’s there. And the wall on the opposite side climbs leagues above us. The top is also out of sight, lost in a haze of clouds. Why would he have brought me here? It’s a dead end.

“This is the Redcliffe Crossing? I’d be a fool to believe that. There’s no crossing.”

“Only the worthy, Goose of House Greyson. Good luck.”

He gives me a soft pat on the shoulder and joyfully skips back the way we came. How could his ancient knees possibly handle that? His rodent bounces along behind him, and its kin disappear into the treetops.

“Wait!” I call out before he gets too far down the dirt path. “Wait a moment. Are you not going to show me how to cross? Am I to leap? This ravine is twenty paces across with a solid rock wall on the other side. What am I to do? I don’t have time for this tigershit!”

Graytu continues down the path without looking back.

The Redcliffe is well known because of its size, but I never really understood its magnitude until now. I look up. Somewhere up there, hidden beyond the cloud cover, is the Plateau. And Greybark. My eyes repel down the wall. The dark-grey granite that it’s mostly comprised of is streaked with blue and white veins and only a