Protector Of The Grove (Book 2) by Trevor H. Cooley Read Free Book Online

staring down at the petrified corpses of the two creatures.
     They had been laid out on a sheet of canvas on the warehouse floor. The creatures had turned to stone at the moments of their deaths, frozen in mid-transformation, their features distorted, their limbs twisted. In Justan’s mind, they looked like hideous statues created by a madman.
    “Blast it, I think you’re right,” Faldon the Fierce said. His tall form was hunched over the remains and a frown creased his face. Justan couldn’t remember seeing his father look so worried. “I haven’t seen one of these things in twenty years. And now? Here at the academy? Why?”
    “They were after me,” Justan said. “I kno-!” then sucked in air as the wizard behind him put a hand on his shoulder. The slightest touch was painful even through the bandages Yntri had placed on him. Justan had barely been able to put his shirt on.
    “I said, hold still, Sir Edge,” said the wizard grumpily. He was one of those sent by the mage school to help with the construction and didn’t seem very happy about being awakened in the middle of the night for a healing.
    A shiver went through Justan as the familiar tingle of elemental energies flooded his shoulders. The basilisk’s claws had been razor sharp and the wounds deep. Muscles and ligaments had been torn. He was fortunate that the injuries hadn’t been more severe. One severed artery and a healer may not have been located in time.
    “Surely you are mistaken,” Jhonate said. Justan could feel her anger through the ring. Not that he needed it to know how she was feeling. She hadn’t stopped glaring at him since the moment she had seen his wounds. “Basilisks are assassins for the wealthy and powerful. They are extremely rare and difficult to hire. What enemies do you have that fit that description?”
    “I d-don’t know,” Justan said through gritted teeth. The wizard was powerful, but Justan could tell by how much energy he was wasting that he was not a healing specialist. “But I was their target. I saw into its mind when I struck it with my sword.”
    Jhonate raised an eyebrow at him. “I did not know you could do that.”
    Hilt shook his head. “Unfortunately, he has to be right, Jhonate. Basilisks are very deliberate. They don’t attack anyone but their given target.” He turned his gaze to Justan. “You made someone mad.”
    “But how?” Justan asked. “Ewzad Vriil is dead. Who else would want me-. Gah!”
    With a final burst of power, the wizard finished his ministrations and stepped back. “Done.”
    Justan shuddered. The man hadn’t even bothered easing his tingling nerves before withdrawing. He rotated his shoulders as the magic dissipated. He’d never been through such a messy healing. “Uh, thanks?”
    “I’ll be getting back to bed then,” the wizard said, shifting sideways as his eyes lingered on the basilisks’ remains. He practically ran out the door.
    “That was strange,” Justan said, watching the man leave. He began removing the bandages.
    “Which is why we can’t let word get out about this,” Faldon said. “The whole camp could be paralyzed by fear.” He gestured to two academy guards that stood nearby. Two more were posted just outside the doors of the warehouse in case any of the workers happened by. “Wrap these things up and get them on a wagon. We need to take them to the council building and we need to do it discretely.”
    “Yes sir!” said the men. They began wrapping the canvas around the statues.
    “Could that be it?” Justan wondered as he rotated his arms, hoping to stretch out his shoulders. “Was this attack just about fear?” A painful pop in the joint caused him to wince.
    “Did his healing leave you stiff?” Jhonate asked. Justan nodded and she walked behind him. Her anger hadn’t dissipated, but Justan forgot all about that when she began kneading his shoulders. Justan sighed in relief.
    “What did you mean by that, son?” Faldon said. “Why