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

feet just as quick. One blade comes down and pierces directly through his heart, pinning him to the ground. He struggles to move.

It won’t hold him long. With the other half of Life Bringer, I swing at his neck, but he grabs the blade just before it makes contact. He rips it from my grasp with both hands. I stumble, too close, and he grabs at my throat with a fierce grip and pulls me on top of him. Too familiar is the pain shooting through my spine. But I won’t have it. I clench his throat, digging my fingers into it to return the dosage of rot he’s discharging into me.

Harris, with Life Bringer still in one hand, reaches around and pierces my spine. My muscles freeze. The rot I imbue into his body halts. I lie still, face-to-face with the Taoiseach, unable to move. My body is paralyzed.

Harris pushes me off, pulls the one blade from his chest, and tosses it to the side. He rubs at the back of his ankles, then rises to his feet. “A little too close for my liking.” I’m unsure if he refers to his death or our proximity. Likely the latter. I don’t believe Harris has any personal feelings toward death.

I lie facedown on the wenge hardwoods with the blade in my back. Paralyzed and soon to be dead. I cannot move anything save for my eyes. I take note of where the other half of Life Bringer is and attempt to follow Harris’ movements as he paces back and forth across the room.

“That was a new one for me. I thank you for that, Stone. I have never had my achilles tendons severed. I always appreciate a new experience. That, however, is one I will avoid encountering again. It wasn’t enjoyable in the slightest.” He continues walking back and forth, stretching and massaging his ankles periodically.

Harris continues talking, but I don’t listen. He talks as if death is meaningless. He talks as if he took away my supper, not my family.

I remain motionless. But I have my talents. A paralyzing blade can’t take that from me. A jolt of pain shears through my spine as I feel my body forcing out the foreign object. The blade falls to my side, and the pain and paralysis are no longer binding me. I grab the blade and rise to my feet without thought. My body acts without my mind.

With only half of Life Bringer in my hand, I casually move toward the Taoiseach. His back faces me as he stares out the window at his subjugated realm. I silently approach and grab the other half of Life Bringer while doing so.

Both blades in hand now, I spring forward in the direction of the Taoiseach. Life Bringer twirls as a true artist of the blade would do. I send one slashing down on the Taoiseach. He turns, shock strewed across his face, and he attempts to grab it. But my blade goes right through the palm of his hand and into his chest. The other follows it, severing his arm, and sinks into the side of his abdomen. I retract the first blade and strike again. This time, ensuring I pierce his heart.

Everything happens faster than I can recount. When the Taoiseach falls to the ground, I let my strength slip and fall away as well. Fatigue swathes over me. I collapse to my knees.

Is he dead?

I don’t know what it will take beyond a steel blade through the heart. And I’m not quite up for the challenge any longer. All my fury is exhausted, along with my strength. But I gather what motivation I have left to scuffle over to Jay. I think now is a good time to disappear.

I gather my sister in my arms and march to the ironwood doors when a wraith-like scream echoes through the chamber, followed by a gasping choke. It stops me in my tracks. The Taoiseach’s eyes widen, and he fills his lungs with air. It’s true. He’s immortal.

“Unbelievable.” The sound of death’s hoarse voice speaks again. “I will sacrifice whatever it takes.”

“Unbelievable,” I repeat in a whisper.

“Where did you get that blade?” The Taoiseach sits up straight. He doesn’t wait for a response. “Stone, please…let us call this a draw. I think it is fair to say we have both exhausted enough energy today.”

The Taoiseach’s arm has nearly regenerated, lacking only a fist. He raises the rebirthed appendage as if he is going to scratch his chest but realizes he can’t. The silk tunic he dons is no more than a few shreds of cloth draped over his mauled chest. His red, bulbous wounds ooze puss, but they heal.

I say nothing in return. It will take an entire realm to overcome this man. And I don’t have that. I push against the ironwood and let myself out into the corridor. If he follows me and strikes me down, so be it. I have nothing left.

I walk down the corridor leading to the Grand Atrium with Jay in my arms. Sunlight floods in from the ceiling, but in the shadows a faint but noticeable flicker of light is revealed. Not from the typical pale yellows and blues of the thunder lanterns, but rather an orange glow. The large ironwood doors are open to the plaza outside where something is ablaze.

A crowd has formed. A crowd with much grumbling and the occasional whaling violent shout. I halt just outside the large doorway to see what the commotion is. Fatigue getting the best of me, I carefully set Jay on the ground, feeling guilty while doing so. She doesn’t belong on the stoop of the Redwood Chamber. She belongs at home, in the Great Oak Forest where we were raised. Soon, Jay, soon.

I rise, and Harris appears beside me.

“I wiped them clean,” he says while