Die for the Flame Read Online Free PDF

of a field of violet.
    An old man, with flowing white hair and beard, blue eyes sparkling, came around from behind the desk, smiling, and beckoned them to come in. “Rokkman! You’ve returned. And you have brought someone with you. Introduce us. Come, my son. Come closer so that I may see you more clearly,” said the Flamekeeper.
    Rokkman, his hand guiding Clarian, approached the Flamekeeper and bowed and then nudged Clarian, who hurriedly bowed.
    “Sit down, both of you. First I want to hear your report about what you found, Rokkman,” said the Flamekeeper. He sat down in a chair across from Rokkman and Clarian as Rokkman began telling the story of his journey to the ferry on the river and his meeting with Clarian and his mother. He ended by explaining that Orlan was dead but that Clarian was a ferryman and had come in his place.
    “Ah, I remember your father well, Clarian,” said the Flamekeeper. “He was the bravest of the brave, and the Maggan feared his presence on the field of battle. I am sorry to hear he has gone on to the land of spirit and is not here with us now at this terrible time of need. I did not know he had a son. But I can see the resemblance quite clearly. I never met your mother, I am sorry to say. I am sure she worries as all mothers do. How is she?”
    “She is well, sir,” replied Clarian.
    Rokkman added, “I left a soldier to protect her and the ferry.”
    “Good. And now, Clarian, you must wonder why you are here. We have plucked you from your ferry and your river and from your mother’s house. What could it mean?”
    “I have no idea, sir.”
    “There are few coincidences in life, my son. Few accidents, either. It is already written what shall come to be and what role each of us will play. But destiny is not fixed. You and I and Rokkman, here, may choose to go down this road or that road, and then destiny may follow, for a while. Destiny changes us, and we change destiny, and when we change destiny, we change it for those around us as well as for ourselves. Each road leads to a different place. Yet all roads lead to the Crystal Mountains—or should. The Oracle has spoken, and you are now part of the destiny of the Karran people and their hope of rescue. The Maggan will attack us. When we signed the declaration of peace years ago, we believed the Maggan would keep the peace forever, as we pledged to keep it. But now we know that they betray that pledge.”
    “How can I help? I am but a simple ferryman!”
    “I see you wear a talisman of the Immortal Ones about your neck.”
    “I guess. I was just told about this a few days ago by my mother.”
    “Do you know what it means, Clarian? The talisman?” asked the Flamekeeper.
    “Not really. It is for protection, I’m told.”
    “Yes, and more. It is rarely given, and it is given only to one who is worthy. And it sets one apart from all others, for it is a key to the mysteries of the Crystal Mountains and the Immortal Ones. Through this talisman will come the answers to all your questions if you but listen.”
    The Flamekeeper sat relaxed in his chair, sharp eyes shrewdly contemplating the young man before him. Rokkman and Clarian waited. The Flamekeeper closed his eyes and seemed to drift into sleep. The logs in the fire crackled and popped and shifted on the grate. A clock against the wall chimed the morning hour softly, gears whirring. At last, the Flamekeeper opened his eyes and smiled.
    “It is good that we have found you. Now you can fulfill your mission.”
    “I’m sorry, Holy One, but my mission is to run my ferry out on the Grasslands.”
    “This is all new to you, I know. The Maggan seek to possess the Flame. They know of its power and want it for themselves. Deep in their crippled hearts they know that their people need the Flame. But they think to steal it by way of war. They seek the Flame for purposes of power, not to do good. The Flame cannot be stolen. It can only be given. It is there for all peoples, but they