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

have run out of time to allow his rank to go absent, and that brings me to the next topic of discussion.”

I reach for my tumbler, but it’s empty. And there’s mostly water in the ice bucket. The men remain silent and attentive. I raise the bucket, and Sasha comes dutifully pouring into the chamber to retrieve it along with the decanter. I communicate much appreciation to her. She returns a curt nod and smile before disappearing to replenish the scotch.

I turn my attention back to Parliament, elevating my posture. My fingers lightly press into each other and I look to each of them. “War is coming.”

The four men of Parliament remain quiet and calm to the point I almost repeat myself, believing they did not hear me. Then Kell Cromarte speaks up.

“War, sir? What leads you to believe this? There is no other realm to war against. The Blood Plains are desolate. And the raids in the Broken Forest are hardly a formidable army. What intel do you have?”

“This is the same threat I suspected early in the season. It seems as though you’re all so caught up in improving your personal matters you’ve neglected to pay any mind to it.” I eye each of them with discontent. “Nigel?” I give him a nod of approval. I don’t suspect any sedition in this room. Their choice to promote slavery is due only to ignorance and greed. It is safe to reveal what we already know.

The Magistrate looks at me with uncertainty, then to the men of Parliament. “It is true. I have received confirmation there is a group of rebels forming south of the Ceruleans in the Blood Plains. They refer to themselves as the Blood Riders,” Nigel confirms. “A small group now, but—"

“Rebels? What are they rebelling against? A peaceful realm?” Shambrock reacts with an outburst, as he so commonly does. “Then I suppose you’ve already found your culprit for the thieving in the Broken Forest. And the missing Dihkai. Why not mention this earlier?”

“Please, Shambrock, let me finish.” Nigel pauses a moment to ensure Shambrock is done interrupting. “These self-titled Blood Riders are not a large group as of yet.”

“Then, let us send in our Crimson Guard and shear them off before it becomes a real problem,” Shambrock interrupts yet again.

“Shogun! Have some class. Stop acting like a primate and let Nigel give you all the information he has. Then you can decide. Sometimes, I wonder how you were appointed to your position with your hasty and irrational decisions.” I gesture for the Magistrate to continue. “Nigel?”

“As I was saying, the Blood Riders themselves are not a large group. Maybe a few hundred at most. But they are gaining recruits, or rather, capturing them at a rapid pace. It is becoming a commendable army.”

“How many?” Shambrock inquires more respectfully this time.

“Thirty thousand.”

“And where are they getting this army? Who are they capturing? How are they converting them?” Shambrock probes.

“This is where it gets a bit peculiar. They have captured only a small portion of them. The remainder, well, collected is probably the more accurate term. They have been collecting the dead and not just the human dead. The Blood Riders are building an army of drones, beasts of unimaginable sizes, and half-human, half-plant sentinels, none of which have ever been heard of before. It is an Immortal rise.”

“Blaspheme! That sounds absurd. Fairy stories. Do we know who is leading this army and why they’re choosing war?” the Shogun probes further.

“He is a man you are all familiar with,” I explain. All eyes turn to me. “He is a man who each one of you had a part in banishing from our realm. He was only a boy at the time, but he has not let go of what he believes to be an unjust decision we all agreed to. He is—”

The door to the Redwood Chamber bursts open.

“Carib Reign.” A young girl’s voice calls from the doorway. I really ought to have a personal guard. And why don’t any of these other fools of Parliament keep a guard either?

At first glance, it was my Shadow. Anger brewing inside for her rash decision to barge in, knowing she is to be invisible. But it’s not Ellia. Jaymes carries a remarkable semblance to her these days. Why has she returned? She forces a move I don’t want to make. “You’ve made a fatal mistake.”

I have witnessed evolution both in life and culture. Admitting it is difficult, but the cultural evolution has been far more satisfying. Because the outcome cannot be solved in a calculation. Man is a catalyst, altering all predicted courses of action. We are unpredictable.

52 Goose

W ishing I had the reflexes of a tree cat, I run as quickly as I can across the entwined, ankle-breaking catwalks. Without rails, and with my vexing experiences with these bridges already, my pace is even more cautious. The dwindling light doesn’t help either. Where am I running to? Doesn’t matter. I just need to move.

I soon find myself at Graytu’s hollow. The Chief ought to be the best person to alert, outside of the fallen Fairview. Or will he treat this as a learning exercise like every other moment in his life?

I snap my neck over my shoulder. The assassin hasn’t followed me. Not that I can see. I hurry inside. Graytu is nowhere to be seen. Somehow, I already knew before I stepped into the hollow.

A distant cry bellows through the forest. A woman in distress. Then, the sound of more commotion stirs up. The peaceful sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing can no longer be heard. Instead, the forest churns with horrific screams and chaos. The village is under attack.

I hear the chaos but have yet to see anyone in danger, aside from the murder I just