Fire And Ice (Book 1) by Wayne Krabbenhoft III Read Free Book Online

the river.  Roads ran out from bridges to split off in many directions to be lost in the distance. It was like the many legs of an insect running out from the body.  The morning sun gleamed off the white stone buildings to dazzle the eye.  The walls that guarded the island’s shores were high and thick, and towers soared above them against the backdrop of a deep blue sky.  Blue banners bearing a golden sun decorated battlements and tower tops.  It was a fabulous sight to behold.  One he had longed to see for some time now.
                  Coran followed the road to a stone bridge that arched gracefully over the sparkling water and ran up against the city’s east gate where men in the blue and gold of Summerhall stood watch.
                  One of the men, older with a scar on his cheek, noticed the silver hawk on his chest and remained silent as Coran passed by into a street teemed with people from throughout the West. 
                  Grendins, Taragosans and Westlanders rubbed elbows with stern-faced Holdonese, haughty Voltians and people from across the Sun Plain.  There were a surprising number of dark skinned Karands, and even a Northman or two.  The towering Northerners had bushy beards and wore wicked looking axes on their belts.  By the way they scanned the surrounding crowd and followed a richly dressed man Coran guessed them to be hired guards.  Everyone gave those warriors of the North a wide berth.  The rich man was Ithanian.  Most likely a merchant flaunting how successful he was in his profession.  Ithanians could be a lot like Voltians in that respect, but at least you could trust a man from Ithan to keep his word, most of the time. 
                  As he rode down the wide boulevard he was assaulted by familiar sounds and smells.  The cries of hawkers when he passed through one of the market areas and the smells of food brought from afar were the sensations of home.  Everything was almost identical to the day he had left this place behind.  It was as if he had never left at all. 
                  He passed by a single story, stone building with a small square tower at the front where a bell was housed.  A man in robes of pure white emerged from the doorway.  A priest of the Light, and the building was their temple.  The priests performed the rights over the dead, and presided over marriages. And generally found ways to make a nuisance of themselves when no one died or got married.   He chuckled to himself.  That was what they used to say as children when they had to listen to some of them preach about the purity of the Light and man’s responsibilities in bringing the Light to the world. The problem was that there were as many theories on how to do that as there were cities full of people to hear them.  When one is trained to fight it is difficult to hear about living peaceably with one’s neighbors, or that violence is evil.  Just as difficult was listening to the idea of spreading the Light by the sword, since as warriors the idea was to bring about peace and defend it.                   
                  Before he knew it his horse stopped before another high wall and strong iron gates that separated the palace from the rest of the city.  A grimacing guard in a rumpled uniform approached.  That did not say much for the guard since most of those who served the king took more pride in their appearance.  Before he could speak, another, younger guard hurried to his side and whispered in the man’s ear.  The second man’s uniform was nearly spotless.  The first guard took a second look at Coran, then waved him past, perhaps a touch disappointed he was not able to turn him away.  The second guard just shook his head at the first.
                  Coran passed through the gate.  From one of the buildings that lined each side of the spacious courtyard came the rhythmic ringing of