The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Read Online Free
Author: Daniel McHugh
were ever allowed knowledge of this passage,” stated Olith. “It was sealed for centuries.”
The general laid a shoulder into the stone surface and it slowly crept inward. Shor moved forward and added his weight to the task. A splash from behind drew their attention. Water spilled over the threshold of the room.
“The waters find their way into the city’s depths,” commented Olith. “We must enter then seal this opening tightly.”
In a moment the doorway swung wide enough for the pair to enter. Shor stepped through, but Olith hesitated.
“A moment,” muttered the general.
He turned and strode toward the resting place of his brother, Grannak. An armor stand, arrayed with the king’s mail and weapons, stood near the bed. Olith bowed his head before the corpse, turned to the stand and removed a giant sheathed blade. Quickly he whispered a prayer then followed Shor into the dark tunnel. Together the men tugged upon the inner handle and slowly the door crept shut. Its expertly crafted edges disappeared from view.
Shor took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the limited light within the tunnel. A lone torch resting thirty yards into the mountainside threw off a hazy glow. Olith immediately moved toward it.
“The others journey ahead,” stated Olith strapping the sword to his side. “We will catch them shortly.”
The leader of the Anvil removed the torch from its holder and the pair trekked along the passageway. Shor took a moment to inspect his surroundings. The tunnel appeared to be crudely excavated. Its four sides felt rough and irregular to his touch. Its surface glistened with the ground water that often collected in such subterranean places.
Broken rubble remained strewn about portions of its course. Shor found it impossible to avoid both icy puddles and ankle twisting lose stones, so he resigned himself to the fact of damp, cold feet for the rest of his journey.
After a short time the monk saw lights bobbing ahead of him. The orange glow of additional torches shimmered off the slick walls of the passage. Hushed voices and muffled footsteps echoed in the tunnel. Olith turned to Shor.
“I will leave you now, brother,” stated the general. “I charge you with keeping the stragglers on pace. I must hurry on and meet some of your order. I gave them a task and hope to help them fulfill it.”
The monk nodded his head.
“May Avra walk with you, Olith Stormbreaker.”
BOOM!
Vespewl moved away from the gates. The Malveel lord’s red eyes swept the battlements. Where had they gone, these giants? They were a proud people, fierce in the defense of their lands. They ferociously attacked any pack wandering too close to their stone citadel. However, for two days the Hackles could detect nary a hint of activity within the city. Had the giants resigned themselves so completely to their doom that they huddled within, consumed by fear and despair? He moved east along the face of the Keltaran wall.
BOOM! CRACK!
“Excellent,” thought Vespewl.
His ram began to affect those damned gates. It would not be long now. The jewel of the Zorim Mountains would be his. The Malveel smiled and continued his inspection of the citadel’s walls. He preferred the use of his divan, but in cases like these he enjoyed showing the Hackles what they most feared, an agitated Malveel lord, on the prowl for destruction.
Vespewl moved east. Water coated the surface of the city’s walls, glistening in the sunlight. He trod through deeper and wider puddles. They grew before his eyes. Their oily surfaces slid from one location to the next, flowing further east.
BOOM! GROAN!
Krin could manage the gate. Vespewl was intrigued. The Malveel lord followed the water’s progress down a gentle slope in front of the massive wall. He found himself staring at the large circular opening through which the waters of the Cliebruk exited the city. Where formerly a steady rush of water bubbled and swelled from beneath a heavy iron
The general laid a shoulder into the stone surface and it slowly crept inward. Shor moved forward and added his weight to the task. A splash from behind drew their attention. Water spilled over the threshold of the room.
“The waters find their way into the city’s depths,” commented Olith. “We must enter then seal this opening tightly.”
In a moment the doorway swung wide enough for the pair to enter. Shor stepped through, but Olith hesitated.
“A moment,” muttered the general.
He turned and strode toward the resting place of his brother, Grannak. An armor stand, arrayed with the king’s mail and weapons, stood near the bed. Olith bowed his head before the corpse, turned to the stand and removed a giant sheathed blade. Quickly he whispered a prayer then followed Shor into the dark tunnel. Together the men tugged upon the inner handle and slowly the door crept shut. Its expertly crafted edges disappeared from view.
Shor took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the limited light within the tunnel. A lone torch resting thirty yards into the mountainside threw off a hazy glow. Olith immediately moved toward it.
“The others journey ahead,” stated Olith strapping the sword to his side. “We will catch them shortly.”
The leader of the Anvil removed the torch from its holder and the pair trekked along the passageway. Shor took a moment to inspect his surroundings. The tunnel appeared to be crudely excavated. Its four sides felt rough and irregular to his touch. Its surface glistened with the ground water that often collected in such subterranean places.
Broken rubble remained strewn about portions of its course. Shor found it impossible to avoid both icy puddles and ankle twisting lose stones, so he resigned himself to the fact of damp, cold feet for the rest of his journey.
After a short time the monk saw lights bobbing ahead of him. The orange glow of additional torches shimmered off the slick walls of the passage. Hushed voices and muffled footsteps echoed in the tunnel. Olith turned to Shor.
“I will leave you now, brother,” stated the general. “I charge you with keeping the stragglers on pace. I must hurry on and meet some of your order. I gave them a task and hope to help them fulfill it.”
The monk nodded his head.
“May Avra walk with you, Olith Stormbreaker.”
BOOM!
Vespewl moved away from the gates. The Malveel lord’s red eyes swept the battlements. Where had they gone, these giants? They were a proud people, fierce in the defense of their lands. They ferociously attacked any pack wandering too close to their stone citadel. However, for two days the Hackles could detect nary a hint of activity within the city. Had the giants resigned themselves so completely to their doom that they huddled within, consumed by fear and despair? He moved east along the face of the Keltaran wall.
BOOM! CRACK!
“Excellent,” thought Vespewl.
His ram began to affect those damned gates. It would not be long now. The jewel of the Zorim Mountains would be his. The Malveel smiled and continued his inspection of the citadel’s walls. He preferred the use of his divan, but in cases like these he enjoyed showing the Hackles what they most feared, an agitated Malveel lord, on the prowl for destruction.
Vespewl moved east. Water coated the surface of the city’s walls, glistening in the sunlight. He trod through deeper and wider puddles. They grew before his eyes. Their oily surfaces slid from one location to the next, flowing further east.
BOOM! GROAN!
Krin could manage the gate. Vespewl was intrigued. The Malveel lord followed the water’s progress down a gentle slope in front of the massive wall. He found himself staring at the large circular opening through which the waters of the Cliebruk exited the city. Where formerly a steady rush of water bubbled and swelled from beneath a heavy iron
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