Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) by Jonathan Michael (ereader that reads to you txt) 📗

“Yeah,” he responds, uninterested. His eyes meander the crowd.

“It’s too bad all the larger ones are long gone. It’s unfortunate what man does to this world.”

Sitting upright on Helios now with Jaymes bracing me from behind, I look down to the river as we stroll past it. Seasons ago, when the ancient redwoods were still about, the river appeared as it is named—the Scarlet River. It was crystal clear with a bright red hue. As crystal clear as a red river can be. Similar in color to the red wines produced in the Garnet Plains, and it flowed with authority. Now, it is more of an opaque red-orange color, which I presume comes from all the traffic and waste of man. Further north, closer to Farrow and Redoak where the capita is less dense, it isn’t quite as tainted. Evidence of the effects of man.

As we traipse through the crowded thoroughfare, we see drifters, traders, residents, businessmen, and a variety of characters parading about in search of the best deal. Market stands litter the street the entire way through. The foot traffic is more than it should accommodate. As Jaymes and I ride atop Helios, Stone on foot, we catch a lot of glances—more than a lot. I can feel holes burning in my flesh from the hot stares, they’re so concentrated.

It’s certainly Helios drawing the attention, the most regal of beasts domesticated by man. And with the three of us looking like homeless beggars, it doesn’t align. I’m sure it’s an unnatural image for the onlookers.

I discount the attention and notice a lavish number of flyers posted throughout the market. One at every market stand and more. All the fruit stands, the rare meat markets, the precious metal kiosks, the brothels, the stable, the gambling hall, they all have flyers posted. And it isn’t a collage of flyers for various events or bargains, but rather all are copies of the same flyer. All with the same image drawn on them.

“Uh…Stone?” I suddenly feel uneasy and vulnerable. Even with a powerful beast beneath me. “Don’t let them execute me, Stone.”

He turns to face me, lips flattened, brow curled inward. Confused eyes.

“They burn those that they hang. It’s common practice. I don’t want to burn, Stone. I want to go back to Azure. Don’t let them execute me.”

Stone tightens Helios’s reins and guides us through the crowd to get a closer look. It’s a crude sketch of Stone and Jaymes with the word reward printed at the top in large font. Below their picture, it reads:

STONE MCLARIN & JAYMES MCLARIN

WANTED FUGITIVES FOR THE MURDER

OF ARDEN & SHAE MCLARIN

PREFERRED ALIVE FOR PROPER

TRIAL AND JUDGMENT

“Susy’s shits!” curses Stone, a little too loudly. Those who didn’t recognize us before do now.

The Taoiseach obviously travels faster than we do, or he sent word. Either way, this creates an enormous challenge for us. “Why?” I ask the obvious question, not expecting an answer.

Stone turns to face us. The terror and confusion on his face are apparent. He silently asks the question Are you seeing the same thing I am?

Jaymes returns Stone’s inquisitive stare with her own confused expression. Her amber eyes are wide and ready to stream tears, but she refrains. Her brown hair is disheveled and matted. There are smudges of dirt all over her face and clothes. Her grey sleepwear is now more of a charcoal color in places with several rips, and it hangs loosely over her petite structure. She looks like a frail, terrified girl, and not only do I see it in her appearance, but I see it in Stone’s eyes as well. I know he will do what is necessary to protect her.

I can only imagine what is going through his mind, but his eyes are saying I am now responsible for her, responsible for making sure she eats her greens, responsible for keeping the boys at bay, responsible to keep her safe at all times, responsible for getting her out of this city and into a safe place away from the false accusations against us and our family. The light comes on behind those sky-blue eyes, making reality clear as glass.

Suddenly, an unexpected, firm grip closes around my right arm as I am forced from Helios’ back and onto my knees. I anticipate severe pain to shoot through my spine, but I’ve lost all sense of feeling. More so than what Stone awarded me. The hard impact is only recognized from the slight bounce quaking through me.

A man donning a white cross-sash and greaves grabs Jaymes and forces her from Helios’ back as well.

I don’t bother to struggle. What could I possibly do in this state?

Another man in the same attire has Stone on his knees, forcing his head down. He’s struggling, but not effectively.

I find myself wishing Helios were still a wild cat, capable of ravaging anyone at a whims notice, but his domestication has created an obedience in which he will only attack if threatened. And he isn’t attacking right now.

My heartbeat noticeably slows as the man puts his hand on my neck. Of course! The white attire, the silver-greyish eyes, these Hiberneyts trained at the Academy. They’re the Taoiseach’s Solite—elite guard of the Crimson Capital.

My heartbeat continues to slow. My eyes grow heavy, and my energy rapidly declines. The capturer no longer needs to restrain me. To lift my arms feels like heaving a bucket of sludge from the pigs’ pen after an entire day of wrestling the hogs. The positive thought of cleaning out the sty motivates me. I look up as far as my eyes will shift in their sockets to see both Jaymes and Helios in the same conundrum as myself. Both are getting drowsy and unable to do anything about it. I crawl over to where Jaymes is curled up and