The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) by Tom Wright, K.L. Gee Read Free Book Online Page A

the louder the beating became; the dirt vibrated with tremors, and part of the hills moved like waves. Skeet had only been to The Drums once before, with Hakon when they were children.
    They had both been six years old. They came to carve their mother’s name into the walls.
    Tip returned from checking on the rest of their family. Skeet was third of five, not counting Hakon (and Gage never allowed him to be counted among them). His two older brothers were already married and had families of their own. Younger than Skeet were the twins, Masha and Isis. Skeet had hoped Isis would have returned by now so he could accompany them, but he was still out in the forest alone, hunting in hopes of returning with a wild beast and becoming a man. Skeet tried not to worry about his brother. It was important he take this step in his training, especially if they would be going to war soon.
    Perhaps it was good Isis wasn’t coming. Skeet wanted to be alone when he saw his mother’s name again. Isis couldn’t even remember their mother. The twins were infants when she died.
    Skeet’s father nodded to him and tossed him a bundle, which they tied onto waiting ziffs. His father looked solemn. Skeet felt the pang of pity for him. For once, he wished that Tip had remarried. He was hard, like all the Terra, his face and skin toughened by the conditions they lived in, by the war, and by seeing his wife killed by the Alem. His father’s hands and arms were covered with tattoos—too numerous and intricate to count how many men he had killed.
    Skeet turned and whistled. He heard Hakon’s familiar whistled response, and soon his brother was turning the corner, shouldering his supplies. Tip affectionately grabbed Hakon on the shoulder as he approached.
    “Come, my sons. Let’s change our destinies,” he said. He smiled at Skeet warmly. They moved together toward the group of men and women that were gathering at the gates of Kaldin. They were silent, regarding Hakon with a reverence that always irritated Skeet. His father whispered, “Daggers out, boys. We have a ways to go before we reach the first tunnel.”
    They traversed through the thick of the forest as a trained pack, quickly and carefully, until they reached the first hidden underground tunnel, where they lit torches. The group moved forward, still cautious, for the earth shifted strangely in the Desolate Mountains. What might have been a clear path could easily have caved in or grown over with poisonous sap.
    Day after day, they moved toward the high peak, sending word of their progress back to the tribe through carrier birds or portlings. The tribe did not zip or port but traveled at a slow pace on foot. Skeet assumed it was because not all of them could move by zipping, but when he asked Tip why they moved so slowly, his father answered, “It is to give us time to think. We have much to think about.”
    As they got closer to the mountains, Skeet could hear the steady beat of the earth. His heart began to beat in time with The Drums. The closer they got to the mountain, the more he could feel its presence. It was inside The Drums that the surviving Terra had found sanctuary from the Alem and the Desolate Forest. The original city was hundreds of years old, and the Terra had long ago migrated outward, spreading across the mountains. Now very few lived in the city, but many visited it, for it was where all the Terra honored their dead and where the destinies of war and the people were decided.
    The Drums got louder, and his tribe was marching to its beat.
    Skeet turned back to Hakon to see if he felt the same beat of the earth, the incredible calling of the earth to its people. Hakon look disturbed.
    “What’s wrong, Hakon?”
    “I don’t know. The sound of The Drums, the beating in the earth, always makes me feel vexed, like I’m ill.”
    Skeet mused. “It makes me feel powerful. Stronger.”
    Hakon shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort. Skeet was about to quip that it was