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

hint of reddish tones here and there. It makes me wonder why it’s called the Redcliffe.

I stand on the edge of the ravine next to the large fig tree. It’s a blessing I didn’t bring Stone along with me. His knees would have buckled at the sight, and he’d have fallen straight to the bottom by now. Assuming he didn’t snag himself on the numerous fig roots jetting out from the cliffside. There’s no chance he or I could leap across this thing. It’d be a leap to certain death if attempted. A leap of suicide.

“Alright then.” I encourage myself. “Seems challenging, but no challenge is too much for Goose Greyson… The Worthy.”

My goal—to get across this ravine and continue to Greybark. I scan my surroundings to discover the facts. What could possibly get me to the top of an enormous wall bordered by a moat? Which, no doubt, is infested with some type of man-eating reptile if my adventure follows the storybooks. The trees aren’t tall enough; no vines to swing across; no natural bridges or ladders of any kind; nothing worth value. Only an eagle owl of ancient could fly me to the top. Why did Gunther send me in this direction if Greybark sits on the Plateau? I’d have been better off following the Forest Road north—the logical way to the top.

The lack of resources is detrimental to my attitude. But my father wouldn’t allow such weakness. He would stand tall with resolve. And so will I.

So…what do I have of value? I have my talent. Growth must be key to get to the other side, but how? I can’t manipulate the rocks on the cliff face. They’re cold and lifeless and belong to Azure. I do, however, have the trees. Goose the Worthy is on his way to Greybark.

The lone fig tree nearest to me looks ancient but durable. It’s as tall as the tallest sentinels, but more massive with branches overhanging the ravine. This one will be perfect.

I climb to the lowest level of branches. The longer branches will cut the growth distance in half, but they’re also the thickest, which will surely fatigue me at double the rate. All the branches farther up the trunk decrease in both length and strength dramatically, so I decide to work with the branch I’m already straddling.

A subtle voice echoes through the branches as I scoot outward. Not the high pitch voice of Graytu. “Who’s there?” I demand. No response. I wait a moment in silence. Nothing. I disregard my speculation and scoot further out to sit directly above the ravine. Looking up then down, I confirm what I’m up against. It’s nothing beyond my capabilities, I encourage myself. But the drop is intimidating. It’d leave me hanging onto my life by a thread at best, which the fish would nibble through anyways.

I place my hands firmly around the branch between my legs and close my eyes to focus on the accretion. But I’m quickly interrupted by the aggravating howling of monkeys and get whacked in the head by something hard.

“What the…” My concentration breaks before it even begins, and I look up to identify the assaulter. A siamang is perched several branches up with its teeth bared as it shares mocking grunts. “Did you do that? Did the Animal King put you up to this?” The black ape continues to holler and bounce like a toddler after sucking on sugar cane.

“What am I doing?” I gabble. “I’m yelling at a monkey.”

I reach for a nearby bushel of figs and return the favor. “Get out of here. I have no time for play.” The fig misses the ape but threatens enough to force its retreat.

I go back to my business, trying to diminish the newly acquired pain in the back of my skull, and start concentrating once again on the branch between my legs. The fibers are thick and tough and won’t be easy to manipulate. If I attempt to accrete the branch near its end where it thins out, it’ll be easier, but it won’t be enough to hold my mass, I don’t think. Not worth the risk. I focus my energy directly below where my hands are planted.

The layer of bark beneath my palms is thin. I force my mind deeper. The tree is ancient, just as its appearance portrays. The rigidity of the layers is apparent as I go deeper and deeper—each a barricade to the center where its strength is rooted. I access the core of the branch and struggle with the power embedded there.

The world around me is lost. All I know are the strength of my fibers, the energy of the blazing sun overhead, and the subtle flow of water pumping through my veins. I accelerate the nutrients and the exhilaration of the sustenance feeding my core and my limbs, and my thin coating of armor is jovial. It’s addictive. I am strong and healthy, and I continue to force my growth at a steady pace.

I continue until I notice a faint warmth. An energy other than the sun, a foreign presence separate of my fibers, outside my coat of armor.

I let go of the branch, breaking my essence free from the arbor. It takes a moment to lift my heavy eyelids. The branch has extended over the ravine another two paces or so. A sigh puffs from my lips.

An immense amount of heat brushes across the back of my neck, forming goose prickles. I reach to wipe it away and feel the same humid sensation on the back of my hand. Annoying apes. Hesitant to turn for fear of getting whacked again, I hastily lean to the side, dropping below the branch and landing on the ground—nearly too close to the edge. But I stick the landing.

As suspected, it’s the black ape back for more. Without warning, the simian pummels me with