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

fact a siamang. An ape all the same, but not a gorilla. You must have offended Coloss. Yes, that is what happened. Murderous, he is not, but territorial, he is. You were in his tree. And you offended him. You shouldn’t have done that. That is something you should never do, as I trust you have learned. I’ll formally introduce you sometime.”

“Coloss? You’ve named that beast? Oh, that’s right…you’re the Animal King. He’s probably you’re pet.”

“No. No. More like a soldier. A guardian.”

“The Redcliffe Guardian?”

“Yes! Yes, indeed. You’ve heard stories, I presume?”

“I have.”

He stands rigid and tall. “None are true. I’m sure of it. You tell your comrades he’s a gentle giant.”

“Sure.” I stare in puzzlement for a moment. “So, how did you get me back on solid ground?”

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” This old man’s goal is to make me go mad with incomplete answers. I swear it.

“You have a guardian angel in the form of a young girl. I had nothing to do with your rescue. She’s quite a mischievous and ambitious one. I’m sure you’ll be fond of her. Oh, and my little pal here had something to do with it as well.” He smiles and scratches his squirrel behind the ear as it sits on his shoulder.

“The rodent! And some girl? Seems unlikely. Have I failed your test, then? Or whatever that was. What now? Can you get me across the ravine so I can finish my journey to Greybark?”

“Failed?” The eccentric old man, adorned in his dark-grey armor—which appears to be improperly maintained with green foliage growing all over it—laughs hysterically in a way that is perfectly fitting to his mannerisms. “You’ve just begun,” he continues. “And for crossing the ravine, you’ll have to figure it out on your own. That is why you’re here, is it not?”

“No!” I shout, unable to contain my anger and, in turn, wince from the migraine still attacking my head. “I’m here because you imprisoned me and told me it was the only way out. I suppose that wasn’t the actual Redcliffe Crossing, then? It was hardly red. You’re just a crazy old man using me for some demented entertainment.”

“You’re mistaken.” His tone becomes solemn. “Crazy old man? Maybe true, maybe not. It surely depends on your perspective. However, that is in fact the Redcliffe Crossing. You simply must find the answers for yourself. It’s not up to me.”

“Why? Why can’t you just help me get across?” I ask, irritated by his absurd challenge.

“You’ll find some answers once you get to the other side. I cannot do it for you. You can try again tomorrow. For now, come with me. We must eat. Recover your energy, you know. Maybe I can introduce you to your rescuer. Oh…and another tip. Fall again and you won’t likely get back up. You are a lucky sack-a-potatoes, you are.”

My arrogance has bested me. I believed I could force the people to grasp onto the idea of something greater than themselves. I believed it would give them hope knowing there was more to this world. The nameless man is no longer nameless. They have testimonials tying the miracle, the Hybreed, and all the false stories to a specific man.

20 Elder

Seven seasons earlier…

“H

e’s a Grim!” a young, bold, lavishly dressed Hiberneyt cries out. “And if he’s a Grim, no doubt his brother is too!”

A Grim? The most feared of the Graft races, I think. Is it someone that has the talent of the Dihkai and the Hiberneyt? They wield the power of death and eternal slumber. Why they’re feared most out of all others is unclear. I’d think having the power of life and death would be most feared. Not two forms of death. I wonder if that’s possible. Regardless, if this man is being called out as any of the Graft races, this Autumnal Festival won’t end well.

“Prove it,” one of the accused Dihkai responds. He remains calm.

“So, you’re admittin’ it then?” another young man, obviously belligerent, bellows.

“No,” the accused replies. “You’re manifesting words where there aren’t any, you fool. Stay out of this, and go drown yourself in another pint.”

“What you sayin’? That I’d too many? That I’s a drunkard?” The young man, dressed in light blues, slurs his words, followed by a revolting belch.

His tolerance for being on the wrong end of a slight isn’t high based on the tone of his voice.

A man of the Seasoned Guard, donning his armored crimson silks, steps in to dismiss the commotion, but the Dihkai holds out his arm, gesturing for him to stand down.

“There you go again. I didn’t say that! It’s obvious you’ve already rid yourself of any intelligence, so another pint won’t do you any harm.” The Dihkai’s temper escalates.

“I won’t be toleratin’ no abuse from any Grim. Did you hear that?” he shouts over his shoulder to anybody who’s listening. “This man’s a Grim. We ought to do something about it!” he shouts to the crowd. “We can’t have any Grims walkin’ about us freely. It ain’t safe for the littles.”

“Yeah!” another angered man calls out. “Grims don’t belong around here.”

“Yes, then why don’t we do something about it?” Stone’s father, Arden, pleas while keeping his composure. “We’re a civilized realm, so let us step outside and gather some fresh air and fresh thoughts on the situation. Then, perhaps, find a carriage to get back home and sleep on those thoughts. No good decisions can be made in this state.”

“Sleep on it!” The man cries. He then shoves Arden with both hands, causing him to stumble backward and hit the ground. “He’ll be long gone by then, you fool! We can’t sleep on it. We need to handle this now!”

The offended Lahyf, with unexpected quickness for a man his size, jabs at the