Tower of Trials: Book One of Guardian Spirit Read Online Free

shifted his bow to his left hand, pushed his duster off his pouch, and loosened the flap. “You only need to bring that with which you will summon your shade and that which will contain him. I have everything else we need in here.”
    She crept closer, but Percy caught her arm. “Lydia! You can’t trust him!”
    “As your guide, it would defeat my purpose to harm you.”
    “Do you hear that? Besides, spirits cannot lie.”
    “Pledge it three times, and I might believe you.”
    “Oh, Perce!” She shook his arm off. “Ravenscar said spirits cannot lie. Not without harming themselves or turning themselves into a ghoul.”
    Not true, but so went most human knowledge of things beyond their narrow range of experiences. Guard only cared to correct one misapprehension, though, for it disgusted him. “A spirit cannot turn into another spirit, much less a ghoul, which is not one.” He almost shuddered at the thought.
    “Oh.”
    “He’s not a spirit, Lydia.”
    “Well, not yet. Not until we succeed, right?”
    At Guard’s nod, she knelt down, replaced her iron dust and muff in her bag, and picked up the fallen book—her fiancé’s journal? It was filled with drawings and handwritten notes. She smoothed a page. Then she set it aside and began rummaging in her bag.
    Hopefully not for something stronger than iron.
    Such as the casually mentioned spirit ring.
    Guard watched her carefully, but once again, her companion tried to block his view. Percy said, “I still want you to swear it thrice, Spi—whatever you are: you will not harm us, or we will not go.”
    Lydia rolled her eyes and concentrated on moving items (none of which were iron-related) into a small, knit bag that resembled a sock. Though Guard suspected it mattered little to her, he obeyed her companion’s dictate to forestall another delay from ignorance and argument. Doing so caused a smile to flit across her lips. Then, equipped with her fiancé’s journal, the small bag (smelling of herbs), and an empty, lidded jar (for holding the shade), she marched across to him.
    She had tucked the gun-holding muff in the bag during her preparations, but it did not stay there. Unknown to her, her companion retrieved the weapon. He defiantly met Guard’s eye as he slid it into his coat pocket.
    It was not worth arguing over. Besides, he was the lesser threat.
    Lydia was busy peeking inside the pouch he held open. “There doesn’t seem to be much room.”
    “It is made of bone-wood fibers.” When that gained him a curious look, he explained to her, “The inclusion of such fibers means a bag holds more than it appears to.”
    “But it does not hold food. And you have no water canteen. Is the journey so short?”
    Food? Water? How often did normal mortals eat and drink? He only needed mortal food and drink once a week. So, since they were so very mortal . . . once a day? Surely they had already taken care of those needs before coming here this night. “One does not linger in The Crypt.”
    “Good, for I’m in enough trouble as it is for spending the night with a man.” She looked up at Guard. “Men. Our parents would force us—Percy and me—to marry to preserve my honor.”
    Something fell behind her, pinging against the stone, and she whirled around. “What are you doing, Percy?”
    “Nothing.” His face was red, everywhere, with emotion. But Guard had seen what he had swiped from the stones and placed in his coat pocket. An extra bullet. Probably to join several others. Percy closed their travel bag and set it beside the shrouded corpse. “Just making sure we have everything. I don’t like leaving behind the—the lantern. I like a lot of . . . light.”
    “You heard our guide. Bring nothing else.”
    An order Percy was already disobeying. The gun was one thing, but what other deception might he be up to, since he found it so easy to lie? Perhaps he should not be so easily dismissed. “If you have a spirit ring,” Guard suggested, “you must leave