Awake the Cullers (History of Ondar) by Amanda Young, Raymond Young Jr. Read Free Book Online Page A

bracers with spikes that seemed to pin the armor to his skin. Shards of metal poked out from under his fingernails and the gum line around his teeth. Spikes were bolted through the skin above his eyebrows and cheekbones.
    Marcy felt her palms burn and let go of the cart gently. Once free, her hands burst into bright blue flames. It only seemed to excite the man more. The drander, however, was another matter. He eyed her nervously, pounding his hooves against the stone. They were at a standstill for what felt like minutes , although she knew only a second or two passed before she saw his muscles twitch. Feeding her fire, she pushed it out, bringing a wall of flames between them. The man would have continued, but the beast was too afraid to run through the fire. He yelled at the animal, but it would not budge. Angered, he stabbed a sword into the throat of the drander and dismounted, leaving the animal to his painful death. The man grinned at her and walked toward the flames.
    Calling forth more blue fire, Marcy threw the small fireballs at his head and clothes, hopin g to catch them on fire. Though not much compared to a wizard’s fireball, they were nothing to scoff at. He dodged a few but took most head on. His clothes burned at the shoulder and chest. He absentmindedly patted his clothes and walked directly into the flames, emerging a burning behemoth of muscle and might. He raised the morning star from his back. The sword was still embedded in the throat of the now dead drander.
    Lifting his weapon to swing, he did not expect the kick that caught him square in the head. Thomas, jumping from the roof of a nearby shed, landed his shot and followed with a sword to the gut. The man laughed. Thomas took a hard punch to the face and reeled back. Undaunted, he fought off the monster, blocking weapon swings and cutting his opponent whenever possible. Knowing he would not be able to outlast the monster, Thomas aimed for the face and head. An injured arm or gut wound would not slow him down. That left decapitation or a severe enough head injury. Ducking under the swing of the morning star, Thomas jumped off the side of a wall and struck down with his blade, cutting straight through to come out the man’s throat. He dropped the morning star and fell to the ground. Thomas pulled his sword and came to Marcy’s side, lifting the vegetable cart off the woman. Marcy helped her up, and the three of them ran to the tavern. The door slammed and bolted behind them. No one else would be let inside.
    Raiders filled the streets, cutting down people at every corner. The scene in the tavern was not much better. People ran around , screaming and yelling questions, cries of fear and loss, wails of hopelessness and despair. Thomas grabbed Marcy’s hand and ran upstairs, attempting to instruct people to fire from the windows. No one could hear him. Marcy held on tight, but the crowd pushed in around her and soon their hands slipped apart. She felt herself moved by the crowd, further and further away from him. Thomas turned and looked for her, frantically pushing his way through the mass of people, but they would not cooperate. Marcy felt the railing at her back. There were more jabs and pushes, bodies bumping and pressing against her. She struggled in vain to move away from the edge. She didn’t hear the wood break, but she felt the moment its support was gone. For a moment, she felt relief at being away from the crowd. Then she remembered she was falling and heard herself scream.
    The room fell into silence, a moment frozen in time. She felt her body supported, as if by a pillow of air. She thought she would be crashing into the floor. Instead her body slowly floated to the ground. Through the surprised stares and still people, she saw Thomas pushing his way down the stairs to the spot where her feet softly touched down.
    “Are you hurt?” His hands ran over her arms and face, checking for injury.
    “I’m fine,” she answered him,