The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

grate, now only a dribble of liquid slid between solid iron doors.
    Vespewl spun and stared down the valley.  A muddy, brown ribbon wound its way through the lush grasses then out of the valley through Hrafnu’s gorge. Instead of the pulse of a vibrant mountain stream, a sluggish trickle of water slipped past rock and bank. The meager amount of water oozing down the Cliebruk now came from these mysterious puddles which collected at the base of the wall and ....
    BOOM! GROAN! CRACK!
    Vespewl’s eyes shot back to the battlements. A heavy wave of water sloshed over the stone above and pounded the ground around the Malveel’s claws. A deep growl of hatred filled Vespewl’s belly and accusatory eyes locked on the dark tunnel that denied the Cliebruk its escape from Keltar.
     
    Shor trudged on through a foot of ice-cold water. He never thought he would pray for the conquest of his beloved homeland, but if the Ulrog did not breach the gate soon the water would continue to rise. It poured from cracks and crevices lining the deep tunnel. Water crawled down the sloping floor from behind the remnants of the great exodus. Already Shor’s ankles and legs ached from the cold.
    Shor surveyed the tail end of the Keltaran population fleeing the citadel. It seemed to be concentrated with both the very young and the very old. Small children struggled through the frigid water. An elderly couple clutching a few prize possessions shuffled along arm in arm. An old woman strove forward with a young boy cradled in her arms. A group of boys, too young for the military and too old to be in the charge of adults, wandered near the end of the procession with their heads hung low.
    Brother Shor skirted the group of boys and laid a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. The youths’ heads rose at the sight of the Keltaran monk. The old woman turned, anxiety evident in her face.
    “Give me the child, little woman,” said the monk. “See to yourself. The child will be safe with me.”
    Relief flooded the woman’s face. She nodded and passed the sleeping youth to Shor as the boys looked on.
    “Thank you, brother,” exclaimed the woman. “My son fights in the battles with the Zodrians and the boy’s mother harvested in the valley when the Ulrog arrived. I have no other family to help me.”
    Shor laid the sleeping child’s head on his shoulder.
    “Of course you do, little woman,” replied Shor loud enough for the trailing boys to hear. “We are all children of Avra and thus one family. My lot may not lie with the army of Keltar, but I owe a duty to my people nonetheless and its import is no less significant. I will be your family and together we will traverse this dark road and exit into the light.”
    The youths watched the stately figure of the monk take a small pack from the old woman and sling it over his shoulder. One of the larger boys immediately moved to the elderly couple and relieved them of their burdens, promising to stay close throughout the journey. Another smiled at a small girl whose cold feet caused tears to run down her cheeks. Within moments the young man lifted her onto his shoulders and they began a song.
    Shor smiled and turned his attention to the old woman who chattered on about her grandson.
    “... only three and already can do his numbers. Such a bright lad. Just like his grandfather, Ny, bless his soul. A smile and a laugh for anyone.”
    “Three you say,” laughed Shor. “He is a big one for only three. What is he called?”
    “He gets both his size and his name from his father,” laughed the old woman as she stroked the boy’s blond curls. “He is my precious Aul.”
     
    Krin snarled with pleasure. Finally, the giant timbers began to yield. Vespewl had made the High Priest anxious by pacing back and forth before the gate.  Now the lazy worm roamed along his soon to be conquered prize and Krin and his Hackles managed progress. It would not be long now.
    BOOM! CRACK! POP! SKREEEE! POP!
    A roar to the east