Flames of Awakening: Faemoch Cycle Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

would fall to
the ravening beast.
    "In Paradisia, that
gods-forsaken land far to the south of this little paradise, the sweltering
heat blisters the skin and cracks the earth. I was there, in my early years, as
a simple traveling minstrel, seeking my fortune entertaining the wealthy and
the powerful. Little did I know, but the moneyed and influential had but scant
taste for any story or song, fabulous or horrific,  unless it glorified them
personally over each of their bitterest rivals. Now that was a most dangerous
game. For the man you insult so wickedly today may well be your next
pontificated patron.
    "I turned, like far too many of
my fellow wordsmiths, to working the meanest taverns and swill-holes of the
common areas of the towns. I traveled, never lingering long, from village to
town to hamlet to city until I finally ventured to the city of all cities,
highest of the high, belly of the beast, Purwynn, capital of Paradisia."
    "Are you sure?" Chlora
interrupted, eying Tolian suspiciously. "I think what really happened is
you grew up in that nasty Purwynn and you're just too ashamed to want to admit
it."
    "Umm ... well ..." Tolian
hesitated. "I suppose that is the way it was. Yes, yes. I quite remember
now. I was in the most terrible yet unfailingly beautiful city of my mostly
misspent youth, Purwynn. Working the bawdiest of taverns, I heard about this
amazing warrior. It was said, over pints of the best ale and worst wine, that
his battles rattled the glorious gold and ivory walls of the heavens and split
the earth from crust to the very core. That the gods themselves came down from
their burnished thrones to watch this one man. This half-elf gladiator who
decimated all mere mortal men who dared pit themselves against his prowess. I,
of course, had to see this legend for myself. I had taken it upon myself, as
the only man of all men able to accomplish so grand a venture, to compose an
epic ballad in this man's honor. This, of course, had the
not-altogether-unlooked for benefit of allowing me ascend to, shall we say,
grander venues for my craft as well."
    Tolian, lost in his recounting of
this exaggerated tale, continued, his gestures growing more and more excited,
"One Sarnday, I visited the arena. You see, I had to experience a contest
in order to accurately capture the mood, the spirit, and the passion of it all
for my epic. The excitement of the day mounted higher and higher with each passing
match. Now, I have never been overly fond of the various sports of blood, but
this day, on this day I was simply overcome. The built-up tension, the
heartbreak of a trial well and truly fought but, ultimately, lost, and the
overwhelming, sometimes crushing, finality of the judgment. That day, I was
taken by the quiet honor and evident pride in every fighting man.
    "Almost the entirety of the day
had passed in these tumultuous contests; then it happened. The blazing sphere
of the blinding sun had just slipped to its nightly rest. Torches blazed
suddenly along the cooling sandstone walls of the arena and one brazen bugle
blast silenced the restless crowd.
    "'On this night,' the announcer
called, 'Harol of Dantus has requested but one fight. With one man. He understands
fully the price that he may ultimately pay. He wants claim to fame, riches, and
honor! This night," Tolian's voice rose, echoing the time lost arena
herald. "Harol has chosen to face the undefeated Champion of
Purwynn!'"
    "Wait just a moment there,"
Chlora interrupted again, foot tapping with impatience. Or maybe irritation.
"I thought in your human arenas all the contestants were slaves? Are you
sure you really know what you are talking about?"
    "Yes. In this fact, if in no
other, I am acutely accurate," Tolian explained. "Some men, if they
so happen to be desperate enough, or mayhap hungry enough, may choose, as free
men, to willingly enter the gladiatorial arena. It must have taken Harol quite
a substantial bribe to gain a place in the final match."
    Tolian