Read Online Call Of The Flame (Book 1) by James R. Sanford - Free Book Online Page A

They horde it.”
    Cauldin held his arms wide.  “I have not a dragon’s
essence.  Can you not see me?  My essence is still that of the warrior.”
    “I see you.  You bear an essence all your own.”
    “As did Elistar.  As will you.  Those with destinies such as
ours must always stand apart.  Do not be afraid.  It takes only a moment.  We
could do it here and now.”
    Sorrin felt beads of sweat at his temples.  He closed his
eyes.
    “You feel it.  I know you do.  You sense what you will
become — that which you sought when first you came here.”
    “Please,” whispered Sorrin, “please do not — “
    “Here,” Cauldin said, “let me open a vein for you.  Drink of
my blood.”
    “No,” said Sorrin, backing away.  “I do not want this.”
    Cauldin smiled grimly.  “That is because you do not
understand it.  Listen to me Sorrin.  With the dragon’s blood you will feel no
separation from the realm of power.  You will live in it.  I do so at this
moment— we will be the heroes of the new myths to come.  We will look into the
hearts of the Powers themselves.”
    Sorrin held his head up and let the fear of temptation pass
away.  “I have fought and suffered for years to be the man you see today.  I
wish to be nothing more.”
    Cauldin withdrew his hand.  “Everything has changed.  I do
not even know if I can remain in the order.  I have an important question for
the Council and must see them at once.  I only wanted to see you first.  Do not
worry, my brother, we shall speak again soon.”
    And he went.
    Sorrin laid down his sword and blinked the sweat from his
eyes.  Turning to the window, he threw open the shutters and let the cool sea
air fill his tiny room.  A low fog had risen, a mirror image of the overcast
sky.  He laid his arm across the sill and rested his head there, but shadow
figures came out of the fog, pointing at him, mocking.
    Have you no fear of death?
    He closed his eyes and listened for the sea, for the sound
of breaking waves, and when, at last, the voice of the shadows had been driven
away, an echo rang in the corridor, a shriek carried on a voice sick with fear.
    Then the booming voice of Zahaias.  “An enemy is in the
council chamber!  Everyone to arms!”
    Sorrin took down his longbow and strung it in one motion,
drawing a single arrow from the quiver.  The arrowhead, razor edged and the
color of sapphire, had been carved from the tooth of a firebird.
    Now through the doorway, sprinting along the corridor.  A
few steps up and across the long hall.  Shouts.  The clangor of steel striking
steel — rapid blows.  Narrow shafts of dim light.  The heavy oak doors of the
council chamber, open.  The threshold slick underfoot.  A bright metallic odor,
like copper.
    A few twisted forms in blue tunics lay inside the chamber,
one writhing and sobbing in pain.  Another warrior knelt before the crescent
table, hands across his eyes, mouth open in a wordless cry, his sight forever
gone.  Lying sprawled across the table, or crumpled underneath like dogs
crushed by a cart, the sages of the council lay still in their own blood.  The
Magus Archeus, even more frail in death than she had been in life, had run the
length of the chamber before a sword impaled her from behind.
    Entranced, blood still dripping from his sword, Cauldin
stood behind the Pyxidium, seeing it alone.  He reached out as Sorrin nocked
the arrow, and plucked the crystal from its setting, holding it up so that its
light fell upon his face.
    Sorrin pulled back the bowstring, his fingers brushing his
cheek, and let the arrow fly.
    It struck the Pyxidium and split it cleanly, in perfect
symmetry.  Cauldin kept hold of one half, even as the arrow pierced his right
eye, coming to rest deep within.  It knocked him back and he staggered but did
not fall.
    He straightened and took a deep breath.  With a shout of
defiance, he yanked the arrow free and tossed it to the floor.  A few drops of
viscous