The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) Read Online Free Page A
determination turned back towards the house.
Mother’s still inside! Andaris thought.
A wall of fire now blocked the front door, so his grandfather grabbed the hatchet from beside the woodpile, ran to the master bedroom window, and began breaking in the glass.
Andaris heard a ferocious shrieking from above, and the flapping of leathery wings, then felt a sudden blast of scorched air. Everything around him burst into flames, at which point the scene shattered and fell away, a facade without supports.
But Andaris did not wake, for the dream was not yet done with him. He now stood atop a high wall in front of a great stone keep, wearing a full suit of plated mail. Staring through slits in his helm, he saw that he held an elegant looking longsword, its gently curving blade etched deep with strange symbols, all of which glowed red, pulsating with each beat of his heart. He slashed the sword through the air, pleased with how natural the movement felt, with how well the ivory hilt fit into his hand. Clearly, he had used it many times before. It was like an extension of his arm, perfectly balanced and lighter than it appeared, as though made especially for him.
The time of reckoning draws near, the sword said into his mind.
I’m ready, Andaris told it, not at all surprised to be talking to it. Why should he be surprised? After all, it was a part of him and he was a part of it—man and sword irrevocably linked, their connection bordering on symbiotic.
Andaris shivered and, with his free hand, pulled together his cloak. So cold, he thought.
Yes…cold, answered the sword. The Lost One will soon be here.
The sky swirled apocalyptically, red as an open wound. Flaxen-haired men in gleaming armor carrying long bows wrought of bone stood in the crenellations cut into the rampart. Long spikes adorned with the severed heads of beasts protruded from the tops of the battlements, swaying in the stiff breeze, each more hideous than the last.
Andaris tensed as the enemy war horns warbled out a fervent succession of deep, soulful cries, then watched in horror as a dark horde flooded towards the wall, its ranks covering the charred landscape with grotesque, bestial shapes for as far as the eye could see. All around him swords were drawn and arrows were nocked as, in high ringing tones, the trumpets on the wall blared forth their response.
Lost in Darkness
A ndaris awoke feeling groggy and disconnected. What a dream, he thought, slowly opening his eyes. Hmm. Why’s it so dark in here? He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. No change. He opened them as wide as they would go, peering this way and that, and still…only blackness. He came instantly alert. What’s happening? Why can’t I--
Then it all came flooding back to him. The hill. The storm. The cave. Yes, of course. He wasn’t blind. He was in a cave.
But he had traveled so far in and had felt so chased, could he now remember his way back out? Just stay calm , he told himself. Think. Had the sun risen yet? There was no way to know. He couldn’t hear the storm any more. Perhaps if he waited long enough, it would become light enough to see.
A few more seconds with the silence and dark pressing in on him was all he needed to make up his mind. There would be no waiting. He had to get out—now. Feeling stiff and sore after sleeping against the unyielding rock, he stood and, with a groan, reached back to rub his shoulder. If he were to stand shirtless before a full-length mirror, he had no doubt he would see bruises covering the majority of his body, the largest being a lovely purple flower blossoming at the point of impact on his shoulder.
Would have been worse without the armor , he thought again. He had been embarrassed by the gift, and by his father’s insistence that it made him look gallant. He certainly didn’t feel very gallant
Mother’s still inside! Andaris thought.
A wall of fire now blocked the front door, so his grandfather grabbed the hatchet from beside the woodpile, ran to the master bedroom window, and began breaking in the glass.
Andaris heard a ferocious shrieking from above, and the flapping of leathery wings, then felt a sudden blast of scorched air. Everything around him burst into flames, at which point the scene shattered and fell away, a facade without supports.
But Andaris did not wake, for the dream was not yet done with him. He now stood atop a high wall in front of a great stone keep, wearing a full suit of plated mail. Staring through slits in his helm, he saw that he held an elegant looking longsword, its gently curving blade etched deep with strange symbols, all of which glowed red, pulsating with each beat of his heart. He slashed the sword through the air, pleased with how natural the movement felt, with how well the ivory hilt fit into his hand. Clearly, he had used it many times before. It was like an extension of his arm, perfectly balanced and lighter than it appeared, as though made especially for him.
The time of reckoning draws near, the sword said into his mind.
I’m ready, Andaris told it, not at all surprised to be talking to it. Why should he be surprised? After all, it was a part of him and he was a part of it—man and sword irrevocably linked, their connection bordering on symbiotic.
Andaris shivered and, with his free hand, pulled together his cloak. So cold, he thought.
Yes…cold, answered the sword. The Lost One will soon be here.
The sky swirled apocalyptically, red as an open wound. Flaxen-haired men in gleaming armor carrying long bows wrought of bone stood in the crenellations cut into the rampart. Long spikes adorned with the severed heads of beasts protruded from the tops of the battlements, swaying in the stiff breeze, each more hideous than the last.
Andaris tensed as the enemy war horns warbled out a fervent succession of deep, soulful cries, then watched in horror as a dark horde flooded towards the wall, its ranks covering the charred landscape with grotesque, bestial shapes for as far as the eye could see. All around him swords were drawn and arrows were nocked as, in high ringing tones, the trumpets on the wall blared forth their response.
Lost in Darkness
A ndaris awoke feeling groggy and disconnected. What a dream, he thought, slowly opening his eyes. Hmm. Why’s it so dark in here? He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. No change. He opened them as wide as they would go, peering this way and that, and still…only blackness. He came instantly alert. What’s happening? Why can’t I--
Then it all came flooding back to him. The hill. The storm. The cave. Yes, of course. He wasn’t blind. He was in a cave.
But he had traveled so far in and had felt so chased, could he now remember his way back out? Just stay calm , he told himself. Think. Had the sun risen yet? There was no way to know. He couldn’t hear the storm any more. Perhaps if he waited long enough, it would become light enough to see.
A few more seconds with the silence and dark pressing in on him was all he needed to make up his mind. There would be no waiting. He had to get out—now. Feeling stiff and sore after sleeping against the unyielding rock, he stood and, with a groan, reached back to rub his shoulder. If he were to stand shirtless before a full-length mirror, he had no doubt he would see bruises covering the majority of his body, the largest being a lovely purple flower blossoming at the point of impact on his shoulder.
Would have been worse without the armor , he thought again. He had been embarrassed by the gift, and by his father’s insistence that it made him look gallant. He certainly didn’t feel very gallant
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