The Black Beast Read Online Free

His jagged backbone circles our land. To the north folk call it Lorc Dahak, the Dragon Mountains, for it is rumored that the spawn of the great worm live there yet. And to the south men say Lorc Tutosel, the mountains of the night bird. To the east, where the thunderheads grow, the mountains are called the Perin Tyr, the King’s Range. And to the west they are called Lorc Acheron, and what that means folk will not say.” Grandfather paused, and we all looked up at the sharp, dark forms that cut into the sky far above.
    â€œThe goddess mothered forth many things in those beginning days,” he went on, “creatures and plants in all colors of the dragon and the deep. But it was Aftalun who set them in order upon the surface of Vale. He put the sky back in place and constrained the sun to move with the days and seasons. When the goddess brought forth men of male and female kinds, Aftalun became one with us and gave us fire, and grain, and the mastership of cattle and horses, and showed us the workings of forge and loom. He formed us into the five kingdoms of Vale that stand to this day, taking form from the fivefold lotus of Vieyra, with Melior as the jewel at its heart, the throne richest and highest in esteem. Four cantons surround it, spreading like the petals of the flower. To the north lies Eidden, where Oorossy now rules, and to the south Selt, where Sethym holds sway, and to the east Tiela, the holding of Raz, and to the west Vaire, where Fabron is called king.”
    â€œHe who was our father’s smith?” I interrupted. I always wanted to hear more about this man, and I felt sure that Daymon could tell me some secret if only he would. Smiths were important persons, and theirs was a magical craft of great renown. Sometimes smiths sat at a king’s right hand. But that a smith should become a king himself was a marvel.
    â€œYes, to be sure,” said Daymon, with merely a glance at Tirell. “Aftalun raised the castle upon the bosom of Adalis with rock white as swan’s down, red as blood of dragons. And finally, when all was set in place, the goddess came to him in the form of a bride of mortal kind, as she comes to the Sacred Kings even now. And Aftalun wed her once more, and she bore him a son. And he sat on the throne of Melior and ruled Vale. For years he ruled, and the seasons passed smoothly, until his children were grown and discontent began to gnaw at him.
    â€œâ€˜You are still immortal, for you take many forms, and this is only one of them,’ Aftalun complained to his queen. ‘But I am only myself, a mortal now, and I must die when my time comes. It is not fair.’
    â€œâ€˜You do not wish to fly and cry with the north wind?’ the goddess teased.
    â€œâ€˜Indeed I do not,’ said Aftalun. ‘Not as moth or dove, hawk, or even an eagle. Even if those punishing Luoni of yours keep their claws away from me, as they ought, since all my life I have labored for the well-being of Vale.’
    â€œâ€˜Be a griffin, and fly with them,’ she suggested with a hard smile.
    â€œâ€˜No,’ he said quietly, ‘only a swan will I be, to fly with the flocks of Ascalonia. I have known immortality, and I want it back.’
    â€œâ€˜You must secure it by your death,’ she said, and she detailed to him the sacrifice of blood she demanded. Listening to her, he filled up with cold rage, to the brim of reason and far beyond.
    â€œâ€˜You are heartless!’ he breathed when she had finished.
    â€œâ€˜If you do that,’ she told him coolly, ‘you will regain your godhead.’
    â€œHe could not deny the dare in her eyes, even though he knew he doomed his own sons to follow the precedent. ‘All right, I will!’ he cried, and rose to face her with flashing eyes. ‘But I tell you this, woman: in times to come my sons will bring your daughters to die on that same altar, and not by the knives of your harpies—but