Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“This is where I felt them.”
His daughter and her wife ordered a couple of elves to join them where they stood on scorched earth.
“Look here, lord. There are two sets of footprints and…”
“Gods…what creature makes claw marks this deep?” Zepharali knelt.
“None, my lord,” the senior elf noted. “Those are talon indentions.”
“Talons?”
“Yes. Very large, deadly talons.”
Dorema knelt beside him. “They’re no imprints from any realm I know of.”
They followed the tracks and the scent of ash until all traces disappeared. There was only a hazy air that should not exist in his world.
Unless the two individuals had vanished into thin air along with the large-taloned beast, nothing around them made sense, nor did the concentrated smell of delicious strawguana berries beneath the camouflage of smoky fumes.
Zepharali rotated his hands in a clockwise motion, conjuring a hot breeze of waves from the last traces of his setting suns, and hurled the force of nature into the forest.
The gust moved across the mountaintop before it was launched back at him hard enough to make his daughters dive to the ground.
“By the gods!” Dorema gasped, leaping to her feet with her spear raised. “Who’s there? Reveal yourself, or we will retaliate with deadly force!”
After being met with disturbing silence, his eldest nodded for him to seek again.
Zepharali took a calming breath, then sent his wind howling through the maze of trees and shrubbery, watching in despair as it returned again without result.
Zepharali’s heat waves were weakest at sunset. The mysterious mist had now turned to a thicker, ghostly fog that his powers should still be able to dissipate…unless…
It’s a dark lord, perhaps one of royalty.
“Father, what’s—”
“Take the infantry back to command now.” Zepharali was already mounting Fire Breath. “Tell the Sergeant of the Wall to block off all paths to Kipmis and continue to enforce the lockdown until I return.”
“Where are you going?” Dorema hurried after him.
“I’m going to Tir an Amárach, to my brother Boraleashe’s Arctic World. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Lazaar
Present Day
As daylight turned to dusk, the descending suns transformed the forest into something dark and magical.
Lazaar didn’t know which he loved more. The feel of the sun’s heat scorching his core or the comfort of the shadows at twilight.
The village came alive during the night—a magical wonderland illuminated with fairy lights and the soft glow of low-hanging lanterns.
He noticed all activity and the presence of people had ceased since he’d arrived.
But aromas of stews and pastries and unknown baked goods still wafted through open windows and chimneys, making Lazaar’s stomach rumble.
However, nothing had made him salivate as much as the titan—his beloved—who’d somehow sensed him when no one else had.
Lazaar reclined against the base of a smooth tree trunk while he thought of all Oleksandr had taught him about the Titan of Summer.
Zepharali had lived well over two thousand years, twice as long as him, so he had a lot of details to ponder.
“Will you please leave those darn kinkalopes alone, lord?” Oleksandr sighed while he paced back and forth.
“They’re so funny, and I’m dying of boredom up here.” Lazaar scratched between the creature’s floppy ears as it skittered over his thighs, nipping at his dirty linen pants with dull teeth. “They remind me of an animal we had in Chessuven.”
Lazaar cocked his head to the side. “It should be called a rabbuppy since it looks like a bunny rabbit with a tiny puppy dog face.”
Oleksandr clenched his teeth, shoving his hand through his short, graying hair. “I don’t care, Prince.”
Lazaar continued to flinch at that title. He didn’t believe he’d ever feel like royalty.
“What is it you want from me, Olek?”
“I want you to realize—”
Myst emerged from the sky in a burst of steam, still in her camouflage, and released the large-mouth fish from her talons.
Lazaar rubbed his growling stomach, although he was tired of eating what Myst snatched from the various rivers.
This catch had yellow and black stripes with flimsy wings that didn’t appear to work out of the water. It flopped around for a few seconds before it went limp.
“Sorry, fella, but I gotta eat.” Lazaar used his palms to heat a flattop stone, then tossed his dinner on top. “Thank you, gods, for supplying us with another meal and bless those without.”
At least his guardian allowed him to finish his supper in peace before he knelt in front of him, demanding his full attention. Lazaar knew what they needed to discuss. He just didn’t want to.
“Are you full and satisfied now?”
“Mm-hmm.” Lazaar nodded, wiping his mouth with a large leaf.
“What about your other hunger? How’s that?”
“Thank the gods, it’s now manageable. I’m not folded over in pain anymore.”
Oleksandr exhaled loudly. “It’s because Zepharali is no longer in this world, but he will return at any moment, lord.”
Lazaar shrugged, tired of stressing over this.
“He left to seek out the assistance of his brother in arms, Boraleashe Cavalerie, the Titan of Winter and Lord of the Arctic World.” Oleksandr stood and began pacing again. “But that’s not my biggest concern…”