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

without pausing for a reaction. He continues walking with a hand on his back. My cheeks warm as if I were slapped in the face. “I am just an old angler turned Advocate, so it’s beyond me to suggest this, but do you know the tales of Old Lady Windblown?”

“I’ve heard of her, but she’s just some crazy old lady. A hermit residing deep within the wood, somewhere in the whereabouts of Greybark. Why is that beyond you? What are you suggesting? Is she the Healer?”

He shakes his head. “I met her once—”

“Never mind that, then. It’s not important. I’d like to know more about that Everweed. That is the resolution to my problems. A cure-all remedy. Could you imagine?” I offer a weak smile, but he fails to share one in return. Instead I get an appalled glare. He continues without scolding me, which is almost more effective than truly scolding me.

“I met Old Lady Windblown once. The Seezuhn religion is not her preferred belief, but that is neither here nor there. And yes, you’re correct. She is a crazy old lady living alone in the dark forest near Greybark. However, I have personal experience that tells me living all alone is not a bad thing. It allows for more time to collect your thoughts. Unfortunately, this is where I fall short. Collecting thoughts will result in a wisdom beyond that of an active tongue. But mine won’t seem to stop moving. Also, being old often has a direct connection to wisdom—again where I fall short. And being crazy is not necessarily a bad thing either. Craziness is a matter of perspective, and those who don’t understand or are too dimwitted for pioneering thoughts tend to defer to crazy as a negative attribute. Crazy can also refer to someone being intensely enthusiastic about a topic, in which Old Lady Windblown is. Thus, she is a crazy old hermit lady, but in her case, it results in a wisdom that might just be helpful for your situation.”

“And why is that? Does she know more of this Everweed?”

“Never mind. As I said, it is beyond me to suggest. Forget it.” He raises a hand to suggest he’s done talking. He continues a slow pace with a hand on his back.

We walk through the commons, past the piers and all the boat houses to a small dwelling on the far end of town. The disciples wait at the doorstep.

The home is nothing out of the ordinary. A typical stick framed home with a thatched roof and a garden on the side yard full of ripe tomatoes and herbs. And a stone chimney, which has some light smoke billowing out of it. An aromatic smell of baked goods. Now that’s a savory life to live.

“Wonderful,” he says with delight as we approach the front door.

The door swings open as we approach. On the other side is a young girl with fair skin, silvery blonde hair extending down to the small of her back, and crystalline, grey eyes. I must have been staring at her like a little boy seeing a naked woman for the first time because I completely missed the introduction.

“Young lad…?” The Advocate nudges me to get my attention.

“Huh? What?” I stammer. My face gets warm, so I say the first thing that comes to mind, attempting to avoid the embarrassment. “Excuse me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen such beauty…” The Advocate’s brow wrinkles at my candid response. I shrug my shoulders. What does he expect? I’ve been in the woods for four seasons. He then looks to the beautiful blonde, and she blushes.

“I was saying…” he continues, “…this is Miss Astor Greyheart.”

“Goose Greyson.” I grasp her hand and put my lips to it. Her hand is soft to the touch, as to be expected by the looks of her. Like the House of Seasons, she’s a beautiful addition to this seasoned town. “And you are?”

“Astor.”

“Right. This gent already said that, didn’t he?” She looks at me with a puzzled gaze.

“A pleasure to meet you, Goose.” She waves the two disciples in and steps to the side, yielding to them. “So, that must be Jaymes. Or are you overbooking my schedule for the day, Gunther?” She smiles and kisses the Advocate on the cheek. “Thank you for being my liaison and for being so accepting of my wild requests. You didn’t have to wander to the Broken Forest alone, however. I anticipated you sending Nero out there.”

“Ah, I did. But I figured we’d cover more ground with the two of us. Plus, I’d come across as an old hound dog who’s lost his hunt if I didn’t carry my weight. More so than that stout and threatening young lad, Nero.”

“That Nero?” She points inside her home. “Who would snap under pressure like a dry noodle?” She smiles again and pats the Advocate on the shoulder. “Yes, you are an old hound dog, aren’t you? I can see you’ve already lost your sight.” She lowers her head and drops her tone in playful distress. “Next, it’ll be your hearing.”

“What, m’dear?”

“Excuse me.” I poke into their banter. Rude, but I don’t care. “You’re the Healer, are you not?”

A brilliant smile radiates from cheek to cheek as if my question is rhetorical.

“Come in. Step inside. Make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you’re fatigued. Gunther and I will take charge of your sister. She’s in good hands. That is, if you don’t mind Gunther—”

“Hold on!” I squall while back peddling. Why would I allow myself to be put into this situation? A surge of distrust swathes over me. It’s all going too smoothly. “Where’s St…Elder?” It’s going to take time to remember he’s using an alias. “I hope you don’t mind, but even with the veritable nature of the Advocate and your charming beauty, I cannot let myself be drawn