Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Scott Appleton
behind all evidences of the cursed giant kingdom.
As morning blossomed into afternoon, a forest rose before them. The trees resembled oaks and white birch, but their height seemed to defy heaven, and their trunks were broad enough to accommodate small houses. Bushes, some fifteen feet tall, peppered the forest floor. Fuzzy leaves of yellow, green, and blue covered their branches. The trees themselves abounded in leaves of green. Specter found himself ducking under the numerous low-hanging shoots that twisted from the trunks like thinner branches. The shoots curled around adjacent trees, forming a veritable web of nature.
Though no path seemed to present itself, Auron led him deeper into the forest. Hours passed. Specter couldn’t help glancing up to try to determine the sun’s position. But it did him no good, for the thick forest all but snuffed out Yimshi’s rays. Curiously, not a single bird’s call pierced the forest’s calm. Insects abounded, skittering along the forest’s dry floor, but no other living thing evidenced itself.
Auron batted branches aside and cursed when they whipped him in the face. The shadows lengthened. Specter found it difficult to keep pace with his guide. He had to keep his hood over his head, his cloak tight around his body, and his scythe from hitting the branches. No need to alert the traitor to the fact that he was being tracked.
Then Auron slipped around a tree, and when he followed, Specter saw only an empty stretch of forest floor. It had grown quite dark, but not so dark that he should lose the man. Frustrated, he turned to retrace his steps. When he faced the back side of the tree, he found a hole that opened into a hollow interior. The hole was more than large enough for a man to pass through, and a spot of flickering light bounced inside the tree—as if someone were using a torch to find his way underground. Auron had gone in.
Stepping forward with care, Specter found steps curving beneath the tree. The faint light played off the inner walls of the tree and descended quickly underground. The only thing he could guess was that the traitor had again made use of his wizard staff to create an unnatural light. Twenty feet or more he descended the wooden stairs, then they leveled out, opening into a spacious dirt chamber. Auron stood in the middle of the large space, holding his broken staff above his head. The orb at its head glowed with yellow light.
Vines grew in and out of the walls, and on every side the trees’ roots grew like leaning pillars. The chamber’s ceiling tapered to a point some fifteen feet above his head. On one side of the room stood a wooden desk built as if for a giant. A large quill rested in a bronze inkwell atop it. A great spear lay beside the desk, and a sword leaned against the opposite wall. But what caught Specter’s attention at the last moment made anger flood his soul. There, lying at Auron’s feet, was a breastplate bristling with razor-sharp blades. Razes! So, the traitor had returned to the lair of his fallen master.
Auron dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. “God’s prophet will have me slain. Come to my aid, spirits. Ye demons, servants of the Devil and, yourselves fallen angels, see me as your servant. Use me to channel your power into the world. And grant me vengeance!”
Specter raised his blade and gritted his teeth. Time to pay for your sins, Auron .
Voices whispered in the chamber. They rose around him. His ears rang with their incessant groaning and cackles; they had nothing of peace or of goodness to offer. The dirt floor turned to ice at Auron’s feet and it spread from that point. The scythe froze in Specter’s hands, and ice grew over his feet, latching him to the floor. It spread rapidly up his legs, and he trembled as it touched his back. Wispy forms of skeletal people stepped into the light and clawed toward him. Helpless, he watched his fallen pupil rise and turn to stare back at him.
“There is only one
As morning blossomed into afternoon, a forest rose before them. The trees resembled oaks and white birch, but their height seemed to defy heaven, and their trunks were broad enough to accommodate small houses. Bushes, some fifteen feet tall, peppered the forest floor. Fuzzy leaves of yellow, green, and blue covered their branches. The trees themselves abounded in leaves of green. Specter found himself ducking under the numerous low-hanging shoots that twisted from the trunks like thinner branches. The shoots curled around adjacent trees, forming a veritable web of nature.
Though no path seemed to present itself, Auron led him deeper into the forest. Hours passed. Specter couldn’t help glancing up to try to determine the sun’s position. But it did him no good, for the thick forest all but snuffed out Yimshi’s rays. Curiously, not a single bird’s call pierced the forest’s calm. Insects abounded, skittering along the forest’s dry floor, but no other living thing evidenced itself.
Auron batted branches aside and cursed when they whipped him in the face. The shadows lengthened. Specter found it difficult to keep pace with his guide. He had to keep his hood over his head, his cloak tight around his body, and his scythe from hitting the branches. No need to alert the traitor to the fact that he was being tracked.
Then Auron slipped around a tree, and when he followed, Specter saw only an empty stretch of forest floor. It had grown quite dark, but not so dark that he should lose the man. Frustrated, he turned to retrace his steps. When he faced the back side of the tree, he found a hole that opened into a hollow interior. The hole was more than large enough for a man to pass through, and a spot of flickering light bounced inside the tree—as if someone were using a torch to find his way underground. Auron had gone in.
Stepping forward with care, Specter found steps curving beneath the tree. The faint light played off the inner walls of the tree and descended quickly underground. The only thing he could guess was that the traitor had again made use of his wizard staff to create an unnatural light. Twenty feet or more he descended the wooden stairs, then they leveled out, opening into a spacious dirt chamber. Auron stood in the middle of the large space, holding his broken staff above his head. The orb at its head glowed with yellow light.
Vines grew in and out of the walls, and on every side the trees’ roots grew like leaning pillars. The chamber’s ceiling tapered to a point some fifteen feet above his head. On one side of the room stood a wooden desk built as if for a giant. A large quill rested in a bronze inkwell atop it. A great spear lay beside the desk, and a sword leaned against the opposite wall. But what caught Specter’s attention at the last moment made anger flood his soul. There, lying at Auron’s feet, was a breastplate bristling with razor-sharp blades. Razes! So, the traitor had returned to the lair of his fallen master.
Auron dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. “God’s prophet will have me slain. Come to my aid, spirits. Ye demons, servants of the Devil and, yourselves fallen angels, see me as your servant. Use me to channel your power into the world. And grant me vengeance!”
Specter raised his blade and gritted his teeth. Time to pay for your sins, Auron .
Voices whispered in the chamber. They rose around him. His ears rang with their incessant groaning and cackles; they had nothing of peace or of goodness to offer. The dirt floor turned to ice at Auron’s feet and it spread from that point. The scythe froze in Specter’s hands, and ice grew over his feet, latching him to the floor. It spread rapidly up his legs, and he trembled as it touched his back. Wispy forms of skeletal people stepped into the light and clawed toward him. Helpless, he watched his fallen pupil rise and turn to stare back at him.
“There is only one
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