Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) by Mark Shane Read Free Book Online

to act. Falon would not understand, but then she did not know the whole of it. And he had no intention of telling her.
    “I am terribly sorry for what you’ve been through, my dear, and the sacrifice you’ve made coming here, but I cannot go with you.”
    “What? How dare you refuse?” she shrieked, her face contorted in anger. “We’re talking about your people. Haven’t you been listening? Thomas sent me to get you. He had a vision that told him you’re our only hope. Your people are being oppressed, murdered when Aleister needs another volunteer! So you’re going to continue hiding like a coward and do nothing?”
    Her words stung. He wished she had slapped him instead. His failures were great and they had threatened to overwhelm him, but his current plan would atone for them. She would see. They all would. When the time was right.
    “I am no coward.” She tried to say something, but he spoke over her. “And I didn’t desert Shaladon. I will return, and when I do Aleister will pay dearly. However, the time is not at hand. There are matters—”
    “The time is not at hand?” she shrieked, clenching her fists. “I don’t care about timing. I need your help now! I will not take—,” vigorous knocking on the door interrupted her tirade.
    Max strode past her, glaring at her as he did, and opened the door. A young lad stood there red-faced and out of breath, barely able to speak as he gulped for air.
    “Master Thorn...please come quickly. There has...there’s four men at the garrison...hurt.”
    “Hurt? What happened?”
    “I do not know, sir. Four soldiers rode into the garrison. One was laid over his saddle. The leader fell from his horse the moment they took his reigns. They were all bloody.” He gulped for air again. “General Baldwin sent me to get you. He said to run, or he’d have my hide and yours.”
    “Well, I better get my things then.” He grabbed his bag and growled when he checked the contents. He had rushed out of Brea’s shop without replenishing his supplies. Quickly he plucked several vials from the shelves, muttering about being in a rush, then picked up two canisters – debating between the two before stuffing both in his bag – and grabbed a poultice off the table.
    He eyed Falon for a moment. Best to keep her close. The last thing he needed was her doing something stupid like mentioning who he really was to the locals to force his hand.
    “Coming Falon?” he said as he headed for the door.
     
    ***
     
    Lush, green grass swayed like waves as the cool wind swept down the mountains. High above he soared, broad red wings extended fully, taking advantage of the currents. A wonderful day to fly though the eagle below him did not appreciate his presence. He circled watching the young man sitting on a small patch of low-cut grass. He noticed a dark shape at the edge of the copse of trees in the middle of the field. A smile raised the corners of his mouth. He was pretty sure he knew what that was. He took one more look at the lone figure sitting on the grass then let a strong gust push him upward and banked with the current as it raced away from the mountains. It was truly a fine day to fly.
     
    ***
     
    Michael did not notice the gust whipping at his blonde hair. Lost in thought, staring at the two grave markers in front of him, he noticed little else. Simple, stone markers, inscriptions chiseled by his own hands. A’lan Trommel. Azel Trommel. Tears welled up in his eyes as he read the words below their names. “Father.” “Mother.”
    His father passed through the veil two years ago. With the love of her life gone, his mother withered away a year later. It stung, that fact, but he understood. He tried to at least. Death was not an easy thing for Michael to deal with. Felt like he had been dealing with it all his life though he could not say why.
    A’lan had been a strong man with an adventurous spirit. He had traveled all over the Ma Shal Dar, maybe even beyond. After