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

probably missed the second half of the Three Seasons War, but I’ve heard that one a hundred times too many. They’ve likely moved onto the more eventful part of the evening. Let’s go.”

We traipse back to the plaza at a much slower pace than we fled.

As we banter, strolling down the catwalk, a large, dark figure looms ahead in the shadows. I press a firm hand in front of Zoie to stop her from walking any further. “It’s that damned ape! Get back!”

“No, it isn’t.” She gaffs at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Just over there. In the shadows.” I raise my hand to where the shadow stands, and it is gone. “It was…just there.”

“Doubt it,” she responds dismissively. “He doesn’t veer far from his kin and he’s much too noisy to hide in the shadows. If you listen, you can always here him. C’mon.” She pushes my arm away and treks on.

I pause and attempt to listen for him. I hear nothing but the sounds of a nocturnal forest.

“Boo!” shouts an unexpected voice from the shadows. I jerk and nearly swing my newly acquired bow at him. Graytu reveals himself from behind one of many dark evergreens looming over us. His mad squirrel dances around on his shoulders.

“There’s your ape, eh, Grouse?” Zoie swiftly punches me in the stomach, and both start chuckling at me before continuing toward the plaza. Helios follows right behind them.

I stay put and scan the shadows once more. I know the dark figure I witnessed was far too large to be Graytu. And that squirrel is far too perky to remain quiet in the shadows. Why are the two always together anyways? I shake my head at their nonsense. I can only speculate, and my mind drifts to the fantastical. I can’t let Graytu distract me with his quirkiness. But there is something taboo going on here. Graytu is more than he appears.

The pressure is too much. How did my false deity manifest itself into me? I am a slave to my own talents. The requests for unrealistic heroic acts are relentless. I have ways to conjure illusions that hoodwink the majority, but I am getting requests to end the drought and cool the summer. Requests that require control over nature. A miracle.

24 Stone

U nable to sleep after the captain’s decision to blackmail me, I crawl from my cot and head straight to the poop deck, where I am to meet Gentry for my first lesson as a fisherman, or angler as I quickly discovered.

Another morning with a cloudless sky, which means wet heat out in the open waters of the Scarlet River. The bank of the river is blanketed in a dense forest of evergreens. I’m not sure what forest lies between Greenport and the Crimson Capital, but according to the captain, we’ve managed to sail upriver about halfway to our destination. Or rather, our old destination before the coward claimed me for his own. I wonder if the crew knows he’s blackmailing me. I fear to bring light to it if they don’t. The captain is passionate for his family. And passion can drive a man to his best decisions, or his worst. I fear which path he’d take.

It’s spawning season for the sockeye, so the anglers are headed upstream to the source where Navimar happens to also be located. It’s a boat-building village. They’ll barter for repairs and restocking supplies. From there, they’ll casually meander back to the delta, filling their ice chests along the way. Back where I started. Navimar might be my best chance to flee.

Leaping into the water to swim away would be foolish. It wouldn’t get me anywhere. At least while the sun is up. The captain would have them on me with their tackle immediately. They’d net me and string me up as soon as I touched the water. Maybe tonight, though. I’ll have to wait and see what restraints the captain puts on me. I should have fled the moment he informed me. If only I was more impulsive like Goose. He would have already moved on from a situation like this. I’m sure of it.

“There you are!” Gentry yells as if he’d been looking for me for some time. I wonder if he knows.

“Of course. This is where you asked me to meet you,” I mock, which may have been a mistake. The boatswain is someone who can make my life hell—and I may be here for a while. Shiner, Cudgel, and Chunk are proof of the authority he has. The three of them are up on the bow of the ship now, fighting over the mop, or rather, who doesn’t have to mop.

“Ah, yes, of course. You can’t expect me to remember a conversation from a night filled with mead. Let’s get to it then. Have you ever done this?”

“Yes, sir. It’s been my primary source of food for several seasons. Pole fishing that is.”

“That won’t help you here. This is a line vessel we’re on, and since we don’t want to slow our progress getting upriver, we’re going to be trolling today. Now, first things first, listen to what I have to say, and don’t try to do things your own way. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay then. We’ve four trolling booms on this boat, only two of which we’ll be handling. The other two are manned by Boomer and Edgerin. Not our responsibility, they aren’t. Typically, we’re one man to a boom with several lines per boom. You and I are going to tag team the two port booms. First, we need to raise the booms and setup the outriggers for multiple lines.”

Gentry raises the first boom closer to the bow and systematically threads the outrigger with five separate lines. I watch intently so I don’t screw up. But why? Why do I care if I screw up?