DemonWars Saga Volume 1 Read Online Free PDF

and entered the grand entrance hall of St.-Mere-Abelle. Now, the young man did utter an unintended sound, a gasp of disbelief and delight.

    The place was not bright, having only a handful of tiny windows set high up on the tall walls. Torches burned at regular intervals, and the massive beams that supported the hall's ceiling seemed to dance in their light. Avelyn had never seen a place so huge, could not comprehend the effort that had been expended to put this hall together. His own village of Youmaneff would fit inside this one hall, with room left over to stable the horses!

    The tapestries that lined the place were no less magnificent and intriguing, woven into scenes that held a million details in every square foot - - sights within sights, subtle lines and smaller images — that caught Avelyn's eyes and his curiosity and would not let them go. The tapestries covered the walls almost completely, allowing for windows and for racked displays of shining weapons: swords and spears, great axes, long daggers, and a myriad of pole arms with hooked blades and prodding tips that Avelyn did not know. Suits of armor of various designs stood as silent sentinels, every type from the overlapping wooden plates of the ancient Behrenese to the strong metal-plate mail designed for Honce-the-Bear's Allheart Brigade, the personal guards of the King — whoever that might be at the moment. Along one wall stood a gigantic statue, fifteen feet or more, dressed in a heavy leather jacket, trimmed in fur and set with spiked metal plates and heavy iron rings. A fomorian, Avelyn realized with a very visible shudder, in the typical battle dress of its warlike race. Beside it, dramatically, were two tiny figures, one just over half Avelyn's height, the other a bit taller, but slender and lithe. The shorter of the pair wore a light leather tunic and arm shields, metal sleeves hooked over the figure's thumbs and running from wrists to elbow. The red beret gave the figure's identity away. It was a powrie mannikin, Avelyn realized. The cruel dwarflike powries were also called "bloody caps" for their gruesome habit of dipping their berets, enchanted pieces made of specially prepared human skin, in their victims' blood until the cap took on — and kept — a shining red hue.

    The statue beside the powrie, sporting a pair of nearly translucent wings, had to be a representation of an elf, the mysterious Touel'alfar. Its limbs were slender and long and its armor a silver shining coat of fine interlocking links.
    Avelyn wanted to go closer to it to study the stern facial features and the incredible craftsmanship of the armor. That thought, and the potential punishment it might bring, reminded the young man of where he was and that many seconds, minutes perhaps, had slipped past him unnoticed. He blushed deeply and lowered his head, taking a quick glance all around. He calmed quickly, though, seeing that all of his classmates were similarly entranced and that the Father Abbot and the other ranking monks seemed not to care.

    The initiates were supposed to be overwhelmed, Avelyn suddenly realized, and he looked again around the room, this time more openly, nodding as he began to understand the true. nature of the place. The Order of St.-Mere-Abelle was noted not just for its pious and humble priests but also for their long reputation as fierce warriors. The eight years of Avelyn's' pretraining had included only minor instruction in the martial arts, but he had suspected that the physical qualifications of the brotherhood, the ability to fight, would become more prominent once inside the monastery.

    To Avelyn, it was more of a distraction than anything else. All that the gentle and idealistic young man wanted was to serve God, to foster peace, to heal, and to comfort. To Avelyn Desbris, nothing in all the world, not the treasures of a dragon's hoard, nor the powers of a king, could outweigh that accomplishment.

    Now he was on the other side of the great