Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2) by Mark Tyson Read Free Book Online Page A

become unbearably stupid. “I am not referring to your kind of Fawlsbane Vex clerics. I am referring to the dragons—Fawlsbane’s most prized and powerful creations. I would think a monk of Fawlsbane Vex would have picked up on that! I guess I was wrong.”
    “Maybe you have essence sickness,” Melias replied acidly.
    Morgoran ignored him and puffed his pipe.
    “Is it that serious?” Bren asked, his gaze shifting to Melias.
    Morgoran puffed again on his pipe. “Worse case I have ever seen. The centuries have not been kind to those who can wield, it seems. In the old days, it only cropped up once or twice, and then it was gone for good. Dorenn’s reoccurs frequently. The clerics among the ancient dragons should be able to remedy it, if not cure it.”
    Melias shook his head. “What if it comes back? Is there a definitive cure?”
    Morgoran let the white smoke from his pipe roll from his mouth, and then he blew the rest out in one gust. “Aye, there is one way. I could take him to Rugania and force him to go through the trial. Although, that is my last resort.”
    “Forgive me, Morgoran, but what is the trial?” Bren asked.
    “It’s a rite of passage for a young wielder from the days when master wielders still taught apprentices in the traditional sense. When the masters thought they were ready, they would send their apprentices to the Isle of Rugania and subject them to the trial. I cannot tell you what the trial is in exact terms because no one knows how the trial actually works anymore, you understand, but just know that it can sometimes be fatal, and often is, especially when it is used to cure essence sickness.”
    “Rugania is also known as the Isle of Doom, is it not?” Melias said.
    Morgoran nodded. “Aye, it has been called by that name before.”
    “Well, not that method then!” Melias stated. “Is he even remotely ready for such an ordeal?”
    Morgoran scoffed. “Oh, not at all. In fact, he knows less about wielding than a novice, and he is a stubborn learner right now with the sickness. Oh, Melias, Rugania is called the Isle of Doom because one has to be prepared by a wielder to set foot on it, not because of the trial. Anyone who tried to make landfall for nefarious reasons met their doom, you see.”
    Melias nodded.
    “Then what you are saying is that he could die while taking the trial?” Bren repeated.
    “Perhaps. Of course, since he is worthy of the Silver Drake’s choosing, he will live if he fulfills his duty and finds her as she wishes. If he has her by his side, his survival rate increases considerably. She will protect him as only she can.”
    Bren grimaced. “What if the Silver Drake cannot be found?”
    Morgoran grinned. “My dear broodlord, the Silver Drake is never wrong. If she chose Dorenn to find her, he will find her.”
    Dorenn broke out in a cold sweat. He looked at the back of Tatrice’s head and hoped she was not disturbed by his nervous squirming. What did they mean about him becoming aggressive? He felt the same as he always had. I better think about how to find the Silver Drake , he thought.
    “Morgoran, something is moving through the trees below,” Dorenn heard Melias say. “At first I thought it was just the trees swaying in the breeze, but now I can see figures.” Dorenn sat up to watch Morgoran’s reaction.
    Morgoran squinted in the low light; the patchy snow semi-illuminated the darkness of the clearings. “I don’t see anything.”
    Bren drew his dragon claw. “There, in the trees. I see it too.”
    Morgoran put his hand over his pipe and whispered. A wisp of smoke from the bowl snaked out into his hand. He cupped it and blew the smoke out toward the trees, and it traveled extremely quickly into the darkness. “Ignite,” he said. A burst of intense light flashed over the trees, and hundreds of black-winged creatures scattered in all directions, screeching.
    “Dramyds! They have followed us. Quickly, strike the camp. I will blind them and keep