Light of Eidon (Legends of the Guardian-King, Book 1) by Karen Hancock Read Free Book Online

last I saw you.” His gray eyes shone; his
hands squeezed Eldrin’s shoulders affectionately. “You have done well, my
son. Belmir can’t say enough good things about you.” He paused, eyeing
Eldrin shrewdly. “I trust you have not taken yesterday’s events to heart. You
were the victim, not the cause, you know.”
    Eldrin did not know what to say.
    Saeral smiled. “I’ve heard all about it, including Captain Meridon’s
clumsy attempts at proselytizing. Surely you haven’t let that Terstan get to
you? Not after all those years of enduring your brother.”

    “No, sir, of course not.”
    “Then why are you down here on your knees before you’ve even broken
your fast? Was not your penance to end at dawn?”
    Something about this man had always broken through Eldrin’s natural
reserve, so that now, as on countless occasions before, he found himself blurting out his troubles, telling about the vision and his concern about his
worthiness and the fact that he had not yet felt Eidon’s touch during meditations. To his dismay, an expression of alarm flickered across Saeral’s face at
this last, but it vanished so swiftly that a moment later Eldrin was unsure
he’d seen it at all. He concluded with his supposition that the vision had been
a warning of his need to work harder at purging the pride of his blood.
    And that’s why I’ve come,” Eldrin finished. “I mean to fast and pray and
meditate until I find him. Or they have to carry me away.”
    Again Saeral looked surprised; then he smiled. “Your devotion has always
been a wonder to me, lad, and Eidon has noticed. He will come.” He
squeezed Eldrin’s shoulders again, then released him and stepped back. “You
have pleased me more than you can know. I look forward to the day when
you join us in union with the Flames.”
    A thrill of anticipation danced up Eldrin’s back. He nodded, and Saeral
answered with a nod of his own.
    “His Light be with you, Eldrin.”
    `And with you, Father.”
    In three strides the man had passed through a curtained doorway set
under the second tier-one of four leading into the vesting rooms and private
chambers of the high-ranking Guardians who led the rituals of service.
    Buoyed by Saeral’s confidence and more determined than ever to attain
his goal, Eldrin settled to his knees again, bowed his head, and murmured,
“Eidon, Almighty One, lay my doubts to rest. You know I long for you.
Please. Touch me with your goodness. Let me know you have accepted me.”
    He looked into the Flames and let them swallow him up as he began the
liturgy, the familiar words tumbling out in a soft, mesmerizing rhythm.
    A bell tolled in the distance, then stopped. People moved around him,
rustling at the edges of his awareness, driving him ever more deeply into the
Flame and the passion of his desire. Like the bell, the people went away, too.
Occasionally pain shot up from his knees and hunger gnawed at his stomach.
His throat ached; his voice grew hoarse. He put the sensations down, sacrific ing his discomfort and weakness to his need. His body trembled, swayed. He
held it up with force of will, weeping, pleading, beseeching with all the
power of his soul.

    And then it happened.
    The scent of roasting grain tickled his nose as a cold pressure enfolded his
body, an eerie sense of otherness crackling with energy. Gooseflesh prickled
the back of his neck, and he squirmed, feeling suddenly, horribly like a fly in
a spider’s web, about to be cocooned in silk. Coldness seeped into his skin.
He gritted his teeth as the ethereal embrace tightened. Rising fear and revulsion banged his heart against his chest, rapid-fire beats that powered the
blood into throat and temples. His breath quickened; his hands clenched the
railing.
    Then he flinched, crying out as a cold tongue of inhuman awareness slid
into his soul, and terrified aversion erupted like molten rock.
    The tendril withdrew as swiftly as it had entered and