The Spell Realm by Dima Zales, Anna Zaires Read Free Book Online

arrows.”
    She grinned. “I see. Do you mind if I watch you write this?”
    “Not at all.”
    The next hour passed quietly. Blaise worked on his spells, while Ara sat still, seemingly content to be watching him. There was a curious look in her eyes, and Blaise realized he might have a volunteer if he ever wanted to teach the basics of magic to these people—if they ever wanted to learn it, that is.
    Loading the vision and hearing spells into the Stone, Blaise felt the effects of them immediately. Despite the darkness, everything looked sharp and distinct, as though in daylight, only with the colors somewhat muted. The sounds, however, were overwhelming, and it took him a few moments to adjust. He could hear insects crawling on the forest floor and Maya lightly snoring in the tent.
    “Did you do it?” Ara asked in a whisper, and he nodded, his brain starting to get used to the new stimuli.
    It was at that moment that a new sound caught his attention.
    It was a low growl in the distance.

Chapter 7: Barson
     
    Barson was traveling for several hours when he stopped by a small river to let his horse drink and graze for a bit. Up ahead, he could see a small group of armed men. They looked like mercenaries—men who hadn’t been good enough to make it onto the elite force of the Sorcerer Guard, but who still made a living by hiring out their sword.
    Ignoring them, he led his horse to the river, taking out a piece of cured meat to chew on the way.
    “Hey, you got more of that?”
    One of the strangers had approached him, stopping a few feet away with an arrogant expression on his face.
    Barson frowned in annoyance. “No,” he retorted. “Just have enough for myself.” Then, remembering that he was trying to blend in and avoid attention, he added, “I passed an inn not too far back, though. They might have some food for you.”
    “Well, why don’t you share anyway?” the man suggested, taking a step in Barson’s direction. “Then you can go on your merry way.”
    Barson’s hackles rose. He had no intention of giving up his supplies to this idiot—not when he needed to get to Turingrad with all expediency and had no time to look for more. These men were obviously used to taking what they wanted from hapless peasants and thought Barson to be one.
    “What’s going on here?” Another one of the men approached, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword.
    “This peasant is being disrespectful,” the first man said, jerking his thumb in Barson’s direction. “Thinks he’s too good for us.”
    “I’m just passing through,” Barson said evenly, ignoring the anger starting to curdle low in his stomach. “I don’t want any trouble, and I’m sure you don’t either.”
    The two men started laughing. Using their distraction, Barson walked up to his horse and quietly unwrapped his sword, keeping it sheathed and concealed behind his back, but within easy reach. He didn’t have a good feeling about this situation.
    “What territory do you belong to, serf?” The first man stopped laughing and stepped up to Barson. “Not Kelvin’s, I bet. He won’t stand for this kind of attitude. You from Blaise’s land?”
    “Right, Blaise’s,” Barson gritted out, his jaw clenching tightly at the thought of Augusta’s former lover. His patience was wearing thin. How did commoners deal with this? If it hadn’t been for his need to keep a low profile, he would’ve put these lowlifes in their place a long time ago.
    Like wolves scenting prey, the other mercenaries came up to them, forming a large circle around Barson. He counted eighteen of them—all armed with swords and daggers.
    “What’s that you got there?” One of them had spotted Barson’s sword behind his back. “You steal a sword from some guard?” When Barson didn’t reply, the man ordered, “Show it to me.”
    “You don’t want me to unsheathe this sword,” Barson said quietly, his anger beginning to boil over. “Trust me—you want to continue on