Into Oblivion (Book 4) by Shawn E. Crapo Read Free Book Online Page A

Garret shouldered his bow, smiling as he watched the mob of angry slaves storm the city. They would slaughter the Jindala like cattle, leaving none alive. Their vengeance would be swift and brutal; not a sight the assassin wanted to see.
    Soon, Anwar would be free, and its armies united for the final battle.
     
    Far to the east, Kronos approached the temple of Yin-Kai; his brother. The structure rose above the tundra in the shape of a horned crown. It was immaculate and unspoiled, having been taken well care of by the ogre-mages that ministered to the people of Kinar.
    The Firstborn had come to awaken his brother, much as he had done for Leviathan. The giant, ancient Firstborn of the sea had been easy to free; Kronos simply plunged to the bottom of the sea’s deepest part and entered Leviathan’s prison through a grotto that led to his temple. Leviathan’s priests, the merfolk, had welcomed him. Now, the ancient creature once again roamed the world’s oceans, repairing the damage that had been done by The Lifegiver.
    Kronos was spotted as he neared, his pale blue skin and large size having been quite obvious to the ogres that scouted the area. They, too, were large in size; a head taller than Kronos himself. They were muscular, brown-skinned—with a slight covering of short fur—and were dressed in studded leather armor. On their backs, they carried large katana-like swords; a symbol of their culture of samurai warriors.
    They welcomed him, knowing the purpose of his visit. Though they did not speak, they bowed in respect for the brother of their Lord, and allowed him passage into the temple.
    The halls inside were large; tall enough to accommodate not only the pilgrims that came frequently, but the ogre-mages that led the prayers. Kronos gazed in awe at the structure. All around him, separating the vast chambers and hallways, were walls of paper strengthened by strips of wood that crossed each other like window panes. Upon the paper walls, murals of battles and peaceful scenes were painted. They were beautiful and detailed, and Kronos smiled as he studied them.
    His brother’s people were true artisans, and he knew their warriors were those of honor and virtue. They would be a valuable asset in the final battle.
    The ogre-mages led Kronos to a large, ornate door. Symbols of Kinar were inscribed upon it, carved into the wood and gilded with gold leaf. Slowly, the doors were opened, and the ogres led Kronos into the temple’s antechamber.
    The ceiling was a vaulted wooden structure, with small square windows that let light through in an intricate pattern. The squares of sunlight that were cast upon the beamed walls marked the passage of the time of day, with each hour illustrated with daily deeds; cleansing rituals and warrior katas. Such a strict sense of discipline made for a skilled warrior.
    In the center of the chamber was a statue of Yin-Kai. He was an ogre, like the priests, and wore similar armor. However, his leather was enhanced by steel plates that overlapped and formed an almost impenetrable surface. His helmet was flared at the back and sported a face mask in the style of an angry demon. Upon the forehead, just above the mask, was an ornament shaped like a two-pronged fork that jutted straight up.
    Kronos smiled warmly as he looked upon his brother’s countenance. He knew, from his encounter with the Druid, that this statue was Yin-Kai’s prison itself. It was a symbol of his imprisonment, used as a metaphor that could be easily opened. In his own temple, the throne of his prison represented the portal to the real world. Farouk had taught him that his own shackles, and the unbreakable glass that surrounded him, were merely symbols; metaphors.
    This statue was the same.
    Wordlessly, Kronos took up his great hammer, rearing it back to deliver a massive strike. The ogre-mages backed away, unsure as to his purpose, but did not interfere.
    Without even a grunt or a groan, Kronos swung his hammer with all his