The Reluctant Mage: Book One in the Zandar Series Read Online Free
Author: R. E. Donnellan
uncle walk right up to a copse of fir trees that were at least twenty yards high. He didn’t stop but walked right through them as if they were not there. His mother looked over her shoulder at her son, smiled and walked right through too.
“Come on Marko,” said the voice of her mother with a little laugh.
Marko grabbed the rope tied to his mule and tentatively reached out to the nearest tree. “Holy Maker!” he shouted as his hand went right through the tree as if it was not there. Marko began walking the mule slowly through the “trees” and found himself in front of a large cave entrance. Well, actually, it looked more like an entrance to a building that was built into the face of the large hill. There was an arch over the opening at least ten meters high with some kind of language carved into it that Marko had never seen.
He lowered his eyes to his uncle who was looking at him with a smile. “Welcome to Tarnith Mor.”
Chapter IV: A New Home
“What is this place, how did we just walk through those trees...and I thought you caught fish for a living?”
“Those are short questions but require long answers. Let’s just say for now that this place is very old, and it is best if others thought fishing was my full time job. Now let’s get you inside. I can answer all your questions over dinner.”
After tying up his mule, Marko and the others brought their first load of personal effects into the cave\building. Marko nearly dropped his crate as soon as he stepped inside. He entered a chamber at least fifty meters wide by one hundred long. He looked up at a domed ceiling that was at least four stories tall. But the size of the chamber was less impressive than what he saw inside.
There were at least twenty statues that looked to be carved out of the cave along each wall. No two seemed to be alike; there were men and women, warriors and figures in long, flowing robes. The detail of the statues was amazing. These were obviously carved based upon people that lived long ago. No sculptor could have imagined someone with that kind of detail.
Marko followed his uncle and mother down a wide hallway that had rooms on either side. The wood doors must have rotted away years ago as each room was completely open to the hallway. At the end of the hallway, all three stopped at a staircase carved into the wall.
“There are plenty of rooms on the upstairs floor. Pick anyone you want. I am afraid there are no beds in them, but I have several straw mattresses that are comfortable enough. The dining hall and work spaces are downstairs. I will go down now and prepare dinner. Come down when you are ready.”
Marko followed his mother up the winding stairs until they ended on a slate platform. They saw another arched dome that led to another, shorter hallway. “You take that one Marko. There is a mattress in there.”
Marko walked into a spacious bedroom. It had a parlor at least ten meters square with an opening in the back. He walked through the parlor to a modest sized bedroom. There was a mattress on the floor and a small table with a wash basin on top. Marko dropped his pack of clothes in the closet and looked around his room. Although the walls were stone, they were nearly perfectly smooth. He also noticed fine inscriptions and images on all the walls. Some had the same strange writing he saw at the entrance to the building and some were pictures of people and animals. He was drawn to one picture in particular in the parlor. It was a picture of a city, he had no doubt of that, but the city was immense. Marko had heard about Zandar and Kastav Cities, but they could not compare with the scale of this city.
Each building seemed to be at least ten stories tall. They all had windows and many had balconies spanning every floor. He noticed that there were many people carved in the cityscape. They were walking or riding carriages, just going about their business. What drew his
“Come on Marko,” said the voice of her mother with a little laugh.
Marko grabbed the rope tied to his mule and tentatively reached out to the nearest tree. “Holy Maker!” he shouted as his hand went right through the tree as if it was not there. Marko began walking the mule slowly through the “trees” and found himself in front of a large cave entrance. Well, actually, it looked more like an entrance to a building that was built into the face of the large hill. There was an arch over the opening at least ten meters high with some kind of language carved into it that Marko had never seen.
He lowered his eyes to his uncle who was looking at him with a smile. “Welcome to Tarnith Mor.”
Chapter IV: A New Home
“What is this place, how did we just walk through those trees...and I thought you caught fish for a living?”
“Those are short questions but require long answers. Let’s just say for now that this place is very old, and it is best if others thought fishing was my full time job. Now let’s get you inside. I can answer all your questions over dinner.”
After tying up his mule, Marko and the others brought their first load of personal effects into the cave\building. Marko nearly dropped his crate as soon as he stepped inside. He entered a chamber at least fifty meters wide by one hundred long. He looked up at a domed ceiling that was at least four stories tall. But the size of the chamber was less impressive than what he saw inside.
There were at least twenty statues that looked to be carved out of the cave along each wall. No two seemed to be alike; there were men and women, warriors and figures in long, flowing robes. The detail of the statues was amazing. These were obviously carved based upon people that lived long ago. No sculptor could have imagined someone with that kind of detail.
Marko followed his uncle and mother down a wide hallway that had rooms on either side. The wood doors must have rotted away years ago as each room was completely open to the hallway. At the end of the hallway, all three stopped at a staircase carved into the wall.
“There are plenty of rooms on the upstairs floor. Pick anyone you want. I am afraid there are no beds in them, but I have several straw mattresses that are comfortable enough. The dining hall and work spaces are downstairs. I will go down now and prepare dinner. Come down when you are ready.”
Marko followed his mother up the winding stairs until they ended on a slate platform. They saw another arched dome that led to another, shorter hallway. “You take that one Marko. There is a mattress in there.”
Marko walked into a spacious bedroom. It had a parlor at least ten meters square with an opening in the back. He walked through the parlor to a modest sized bedroom. There was a mattress on the floor and a small table with a wash basin on top. Marko dropped his pack of clothes in the closet and looked around his room. Although the walls were stone, they were nearly perfectly smooth. He also noticed fine inscriptions and images on all the walls. Some had the same strange writing he saw at the entrance to the building and some were pictures of people and animals. He was drawn to one picture in particular in the parlor. It was a picture of a city, he had no doubt of that, but the city was immense. Marko had heard about Zandar and Kastav Cities, but they could not compare with the scale of this city.
Each building seemed to be at least ten stories tall. They all had windows and many had balconies spanning every floor. He noticed that there were many people carved in the cityscape. They were walking or riding carriages, just going about their business. What drew his
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