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

scars, I’ve earned more than I anticipated in a few weeks’ time—this nub being the worst of them. I attempt to wiggle the fingers on my left arm, but they’re not there.

The glamour of the city is more brilliant than I remember. The streets are lined with thunder lanterns hanging from live redwood posts as if they are blooming from the branches. Where there aren’t redwood posts, there are thunder lanterns hanging from market shops or at the entries of the residents’ homes. Healthy, green foliage with flowerings gives a colorful splatter amidst the stone and wooden structures. The roads are encrusted with sparkling quartz and cobblestone bricks. Ironwood workers sit atop a beam high in the sky, erecting a new building. Crimson Guard patrol the streets, looking mighty and authoritative in their cloaked uniforms. A rare smith is hard at work, pounding away with glowing embers lighting up his shop. Pillow girls lounge on their balconies, not working, but seemingly enjoying the morning sun with a smoke. It is impeccable and alive. The city is bustling. Unfortunately, I only catch glimpses as we scurry through the shadows of the alleys. Ellia dodges eyes and leads us away from the main thoroughfares through the poverty-stricken neighborhoods of Tombtrough where the vagabonds sleep in the gutters and use burning barrels for light and warmth. A stench of something like charred sewage touches my nose, and I pinch it off. We walk past motionless bodies and through puddles of what appear to be more than mud and water. On the positive side, there are a few rare meadows sprinkled throughout Tombtrough, which help dilute the death littering the streets.

“It’s been so long. The Crimson Capital is alive.”

“It’s a façade. There are shadows everywhere. Never let your guard down. The residence here in Tombtrough know not to look upon what isn’t their own. Knowledge gets them burned.” She continues limping, not slowing her pace.

Somehow, she makes limping look flawless, as if she intends to have a swagger in her step.

“I don’t remember him. The Taoiseach. I know I met him on several occasions as a little girl—”

“You remain a little girl,” Ellia interjects.

I ignore her spiteful comment and continue. “—but I hardly remember him. What is he like? He’s a dark man, I know. That’s about all I recall. And how my brother always describes him.”

“That’s one way to describe him, yes.” Her voice is flat. “His physical features are dark, sure, though his ambitions are bright. Brighter than any other. Many men misinterpret his character. But he, like me, has encountered much pain and suffering in his life, which is where his ambitions derive. He is only looking to improve Azure for the better. You, like most, are too immature to understand.”

Maybe. But I only need to understand just enough to get close to him. To find his weakness. Ellia turns her head over her shoulder and scowls at me. Damn, I nearly forgot she had that thing where she could hear my thoughts. I wonder how she does it. Did she learn it from the Taoiseach?

“Indeed, I did. And if you get close enough to him…” She continues with a subdued tone. “…perhaps he’ll teach you too. It will take much focus, hard training, and, above all else, discipline.  Absolute discipline.”

Her words are intimidating but don’t have too much effect without context. I don’t even know this man. But I decide not to think on it further and use my tongue to keep her from my thoughts.

“I’ve never seen the Martelli Manor, I don’t think. My mother always said it could exist in fairy tales. My father would bring Stone and me to the Redwood Chamber while he was in his meetings, but we didn’t venture far from the grand atrium. Other than that, I haven’t seen much of the capital aside from passing through.”

“You know, sometimes you’re better off keeping your mouth shut. Either you’re giving others more information than they need, or they just don’t care. Wait to be spoken to. Knowledge is dangerous. You keep yours to yourself and explore it cautiously.”

“But how do I keep mine when you can reach in and take it at your leisure?”

Ellia raises a hand. I flinch. She runs it through her hair as she shakes her head, her lips curling down. She doesn’t even bother looking at me. I remain silent for the remainder of the walk, which thankfully isn’t long.

When the mansion comes into view, I realize why my mother described it as she did. It looks as though the Old Races built it with the environment integrated into its architecture. Petrified redwoods tower several hundred feet into the sky—remnants of the ancient redwood forests, no doubt. Each of the towers—there are too many to count—is conjoined by interlacing roots, some thicker than a bull elephant and others as thin as my wrist. They create a wall taller than most large buildings. The Martelli Manor is as grand as it should be for the elected leader of Vedora. It’s an impenetrable fortification that could defend against an entire army. But what army does he defend himself against?

“There aren’t any windows,” I notice out loud. I flinch, half expecting a back hand after her telling me I talk too much.

Ellia looks at me with a berating stare. “It’s a barrier, Jaymes. What good are windows in a wall that is intended to keep others out?”

“Oh…” My confusion must be apparent for she answers my next question that I’m too fearful to ask.

“He doesn’t live in the wall.” She shakes her head at me. “The Martelli Manor is on the other side.”

“Oh!”

Rather than heading straight to the main entrance via the Redwood Chamber where there are numerous cloaked guards, we approach the southeast tower. I would think at this point, now that we’re on the grounds of the Taoiseach’s home,