Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1)
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they bickered, Arianna peeled away the dried ointment. The bruises vanished to perfection, the aching gone. She swung her feet to the floor, stretching her muscles. Under Cyn’s scrutiny, Solomon gave her the rest of the night free, so she had a couple of hours to kill before curfew. Pulling on her cloak, she rushed out of the Well Room. It was wishful thinking that Solomon would ease up on her training, and she knew she’d be back there soon enough.
    Having unscheduled breaks in her day didn’t happen very often, so she planned to take full advantage of it tonight. Deciding to head to her favorite spot in the city, she walked out of the sparring room. Standing in the Dueling Arena, a huge, open area covered with a dirt floor spread out before her, and the smell of sweat filled her nose.
    Red-bricked walls rose high above her head, encircling the entire place, and lanterns glued to the walls. They flickered in the subtle wind, giving the space a soft glow under the clouded night. Behind Arianna, about sixty doors lined a wall that led to other private sparring rooms much like her own.
    As she walked away from the rooms and towards the barred gate on the far side of the arena, she passed many people in group training sessions. Masters yelled commands at the top of their lungs, and she could hear the battle cries and grunts of those dueling. Some slaves conducted drills and ran laps around the grounds; others battled with a myriad of weapons. They wielded swords, axes, flails, daggers, and bows, some using only their fists. Slaves of all ages littered the arena. They lay wounded, dead or fighting, just another day in the district. 
    Arianna pushed open the tall gate. Her skin shivered as her fingers touched the cool steel, so she pulled on her leather gloves and slipped out. The Warrior’s District wound like a giant serpent that coiled into itself, the path to the right leading to the Square. She turned towards the left.
    Walking towards the west side of the city, Arianna passed the Well Center, which looked like a warped sphere pressed into the ground. She saw caretakers, like Cyn, running in and out of the graying-lilac building, caring for the injured. Further up the road she passed the Dining Hall, a long, rectangular structure made of a dull stone. The food they served there replicated the same lifeless color as its exterior, and Arianna scrunched up her nose as the scent of mush filled the air.
    She strode past more rundown buildings towards the edge of the city, and she walked by the underpass of the mountains. As they loomed above her, she lifted her eyes to their snow-topped peaks. Rumors declared it a dead man’s journey to try and trek over Blancoren, so people always went under.
    Each district within the Four Corners had access to an underpass, so the districts could receive provisions from other cities. Hundreds of paths under the mountains created the maze of the Vanishing Tunnels. She knew the story well. With only one way in or out of the labyrinth, elders held the only maps. No slave ever tried to escape… not unless the rumors were true about the one-year anniversary of the Four Corners at least.
    Arianna passed the guards who blocked the tunnels, day and night, and walked along the mountainside. If she continued in a circular path along Blancoren, she would eventually end up back where she started. She passed some of the barracks where she and the other slaves slept. Hundreds of them stood against the wall of the mountains. Mounted on wooden stilts high above the ground, they seemed to sway in the wind.
    She circled the quiet street. Feeling a little anxious as she always did when she snuck away, she ducked under the barracks and out of sight. Everyone was still busying about in the center of town, so she felt safe enough from prying eyes. After about fifteen minutes of walking underneath the houses, the smell of rotting wood began to sting her nose. Her fingers traced the frozen mountainside until
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