Haven 5 Blood Magic BOOK by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online Page A

Each gear pressed against another, increasing the slow, but inexorable, power of the lifting mechanisms. The slack cables drew taut. The straining Kindred could not possibly lift the massive weight, being as it was a mile-long length of dense metal. Only machines, properly engineered, were up to the task. The clockwork engines applied impossible torque, straining to lift the fallen blade of the Great Vent.
    It took hours, during which none of the Kindred faltered. They sweated, they grimaced, and they gasped in worry when something swung loose or snapped taut, but they did not fail in their duties. Not a single one of Gudrin’s people succumbed to the deadly heat, or the grinding strain of their efforts. Sweat poured from brows and into their beards, but long before a rivulet of salty perspiration could reach the tip of any beard, it was blasted away to vapor by the fantastic heat.
    Finally, after what seemed a hazy, dream-like time of collective effort, the topmost blade of the Great Vent reached the hinge. With a final heaving, clanking effort, the massive structure was locked into place. During the zeal of the lifting, few had spared a word except to shout a harsh warning or command, but now a ragged cheer went up. The noise rose to a frantic pitch. It was a wild, exhausted sound. The sound of prideful, unbridled joy. It was the first such sound to be heard since the effort had begun.
    Dozens of Kindred collapsed then, cheering even as they sagged down onto the burning ash heaps. Some of those that fell died, their stout hearts giving out in their moment of jubilant triumph. But Gudrin knew that they had died proudly, for every one of their leathery faces was later found locked in a grinning rictus, their exposed teeth full of hot grit.
    “My Queen,” said a voice beside her.
    Gudrin didn’t acknowledge the courier at first. She had noted her approach during the final stages of the lifting. The courier had come from the broken citadel, which still served her people as a seat of government until such time as she rebuilt it. A message from that direction could not be good. Little good news came to any monarch in haste, and so far, Gudrin had never experienced a messenger with gleeful tidings.
    And so, to savor her triumph, possibly one for which she would be remembered long after her passing, she ignored the messenger and stood gazing proudly at the Great Vent. Tonight, there would be nightfall , and every fresh babe in the Earthlight could sleep soundly, knowing that their Queen had made it possible to sleep in a cool dark place once again. No longer would the red heat of the Earthlight plague them without respite.
    A dozen clanmasters, every one of them in fact, came and gave her a hearty clap upon the back. Unlike other monarchs, such familiarity was not only acceptable to Gudrin, it was relished. The Kindred could be stuffy about some things, but a fine day’s work was to be hailed loudly and long, and hopefully with a great mug of ale in a stone tankard to wash it all down.
    Finally, as the messenger shuffled from foot to foot, Gudrin heaved a sigh. She turned and faced the youth. The messenger was young and female. She had worry in her eyes, which told Gudrin what she already knew. The message carried grim tidings.
    Gudrin snatched it from the messenger, growling her thanks. The girl bowed swiftly and trotted away, her cloak rippling behind her, and mounted her waiting mountain ram. She clattered away on her steed, no doubt glad to get away from the searing heat of this place.
    Gudrin hesitated further before tearing open the seal on the scroll. She waved to a passing cartsman and took a cool jug of ale. She downed a great deal of it, gulping. She might be immune to the heat of this place now, but she had still eaten a great deal of ash and grit, a sensation made no more pleasant by the Orange Jewel that hung around her neck.
    Thirst quenched, she tore open the scroll and rolled it out flat. She squinted at it,