Guardian Last (Lords of Syon Saga Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the thousands of square miles of inns and shops and roadways, the
travelers, the vast armies, the siege weapons, the Wittister mages who only now
began to grasp their danger.  He felt a few of them port away, not daring to
come forward, only retreating backward into Byrandia.  He redoubled his
effort.  He wrestled the great mass of land free, raised it high into the skies
above and slammed it violently into the gaping wound in the world below so hard
that the water rose hundreds of feet high to each side in astonishment, then
collapsed into a crushing maelstrom of whirlpools and giant waves that buried
it to a depth no man could survive.  Not even the Wittister mages.
    Not even Damerien, he thought, as he collapsed against the
broken battlements, shaking uncontrollably.
    The sea and land thrashed violently for a time, clamoring
against the great shield of protections the mages had raised.  It claimed and
subdued its new realm between the continents, then quieted to a brooding calm
in the settling darkness.
    No bodies rose, no debris floated to the surface, not yet. 
Within the tenday, the sea would be foul with those of the hundred thousand
bloated corpses that were not eaten by sea creatures.  He only hoped they would
be able to recover Damerien and his men and bury them with honors.  Their lives
had gained him the time he’d needed.  At last, Duke Ildar Damerien truly was
the Great Liberator of Syon.
    Around him, no one spoke.  No one even breathed as they
digested what they’d just seen.  Behind them, shouts of people searching for
their loved ones in the rubble, the cries of the wounded rose over the silence
of their strange and sudden victory.
    “My Lord?”  The sentry’s voice was so quiet the mage barely
heard him.  The boy had climbed atop the rubble remains of the southeast tower,
bloodied, shaken, chilled both with the cold rain and shock.  “You saved us.” 
He laughed weakly, still in shock from what he had seen.  “We were all going to
die, and you saved us!”
    “I did not save you.”  He smiled sadly.  “It were better
said that Pyran was saved by the old and the infirm.  By expectant mothers. 
They shielded you.  Not I.”
    “An it weren’t for you lot,” seethed a woman in the crowd
who threw a rock at him, “we should never have been in danger at all.  Bloody
mages.  Bloody Guardian!”
    “No, no Guardian am I now.”  He sighed, red spots of blood swimming
before his eyes. “No, the Guardians do not do such things.  The Guardians do
not save people.  The Guardians do not stop armies.  The Guardians…do…nothing.” 
A violent sob shook his body, and those near him took an involuntary step
backward.  “No,” he said, looking out over the new waterline below the city
walls.  “I am only Galorin now.”

One
    The Citadel
Northwest Badlands, Byrandia
in the year of Byrandia, 15345
in the year of Syon, 3862
    The woman moved slightly, breath filling her lungs in a way
that reminded him of wind blowing through a tomb.  The depth of her lethargy
was such that they would hold a mirror to her mouth from time to time to be
sure she yet lived.  Each time they saw the telltale clouding on the mirror,
and each time they––or at least he––felt a certain disappointment.  But she was
still their leader, such as she was, and just now they had need of her wisdom.
    She opened her eyes and stared at him for a time before she
spoke.  “What have you done?” she asked in withering tones.
    He looked away from her glare reflexively, hating himself
for doing so.  “The great strands…” he began, uncertain how to continue in
spite of having rehearsed this moment for hours.  Lacking words, he handed her
his peace offering, a goblet of water from the spring. 
    “You did something to disturb them.”
    He was only momentarily distracted by her sagging wrinkled
form beneath the diaphanous robes she wore.  She had been beautiful once, so
long ago he could barely