Avalon Rising Read Online Free PDF

There’s nothing here about turning charcoal into gold, let alone jaseemat .
    Azur. I need Azur, though it’s been weeks since I could last reach him. But he might have heard something. And he needs to teach me more about alchemy.
    I pick up Merlin’s looking glass. A small one the sorcerer cherished for as long as I’d been his apprentice: rounded, metal back with hammered texture and handle inspired by ancient Druid art. I know how to use alchemic properties for communication; to stay in touch with Azur, it became necessary to learn how. As my soul is unblemished of magic, it works perfectly.
    The looking glass reflects the haggard look in my eyes, the dark circles beneath, the gaunt cheeks—I haven’t been eating enough. The wind forces me to draw a blanket nearer to my face, tucking against my skin the wild blonde strands that have loosened themselves from my steel netting. I look away from my reflection.
    I’ll have to sacrifice some of Azur’s jaseemat for this, as Merlin’s is not nearly strong enough, even though to fail at reaching Azur again would be the risk of spending it. I open Merlin’s padlocked safe and seize the mortar and pestle, tossing a pinch of jaseemat atop the looking glass. “Yaty ala alhyah.”
The dust shimmers in cool clumps. It strikes the looking glass and vanishes into its surface.
    “ Ahlohnfu Azur Barad,” I whisper, emitting the conjuring instruction in Azur’s native tongue. The alchemy’s alto voice whispers the name back. The surface shimmers like water, and the ripples reveal Azur’s eyes, as though from the bottom of a pond as he stands at the surface. I can’t help but smile through my worry at seeing him, at finally seeing him.
    “Vivienne,” he says in a voice unnaturally concerned, vowels jagged from his accent and warped through the watery reflection. “This is a surprise.”
    The looking glass is now a window to Jerusalem, Azur’s world. And in that world, explosions abound as the alchemist takes cover in a fast crouch. Aeroships move against the skies like hawks: unsuspecting, fast, deadly. I’ve found Azur in the midst of chaos, and suddenly I know why no one in Camelot has heard from the Holy Land.
    “Quick, child! I have but minutes.”
    “Oh God, Azur. What’s happening? Why haven’t you sent for help? No one here has heard from Jerusalem in weeks!”
    His eyes are heavier now, full of things he’s seen since Morgan’s war, perhaps more horrid than the torture the witch inflicted upon Camelot. With a gaze saddened and tired, he breathes for a long, long second, enough time for that gaze to turn vengeful. “Where Camelot was the birthplace of magic, Jerusalem is the inception of mechanical progress, but with that comes vulnerability. We have sent word with a knight from Camelot who was stationed in Jerusalem. He was supposed to have arrived by now. Tell Lancelot to send his knights. I beg of you, Vivienne. The Druids have sent warriors to help with this siege—”
    “Is it rogues, Azur?” I run Azur’s instructions through my mind over and over, grasping at every image it shows me of cannons and clashing swords. The images I conjure up are stronger than the alchemist’s words, but I must remember them. “Why would they do this? They seek the Grail, like the rest of the world!” And Avalon is certainly not in the Holy Land. That has been long established.
    Azur’s face falls with confusion, like perhaps one of the most tragic aspects of this attack is how he doesn’t understand it. “Send help. Please.”
    My hands are shaking, and the cold is no longer the culprit. Another strike of lighting to Jerusalem’s ground, and I realize too late it’s an array of bearings falling like rain. I can help, though it might delay any aid I could be to Marcus and Owen; nevertheless, I raise my voice to match the echoes of cannons. “My aeroship, Azur. I can fly to Jerusalem and get you out of the city! Tell me how to create jaseemat —”
    But then