Hidden Power Read Online Free PDF Page B

him to his knees with the power of his glancing blow. “Dare you question your master, squire?”
    “No, no!” Kayne gripped the vial tightly, still on his knees, trembling, afraid to look up lest he receive another beating. His cheek stung and his jaw ached, as if maybe it was broken, or at least sprained. 
    “The Ythra Guards are immune to single spells, boy, but this is a collective spell.”
    Kayne shook his head in spite of himself. “But… but those are illegal!”
    Kronos sighed and paced some more, waving his hands in the air as if in private conversation. Then he turned to Kayne and glared. “So is stealing the Ythra, boy, what’s your point? Now hurry, lest I cast a collective spell on you as well.”
    Kayne rose, slowly, avoiding his master’s further wrath. “Here,” said Kronos, tossing a leather satchel at him. “When you’ve stolen the Ythra, put it in here. Even if the belief spell wears off before you leave the chamber, the guards will think you’re just going to night class.”
    Kayne arched one eyebrow at this claim. The lethally trained guards from the planet of Churl would think Kayne was just… going to night class… by way of the Chamber of Ythra? Still, his jaw ached from abuse and he was none too eager to invite anymore by questioning Kronos any further. 
    “As you wish, Master.”
    Kayne quickly left the chamber and, when he was around the corner, out of his Master’s view, sank with his back against the wall and rubbed his swollen cheek.
    He cursed Kronos as he shuffled along toward the Chamber of Ythra. He tried to act casual, but Kronos knew the punishment for even entering the hallowed chamber, let alone stealing the precious orb: banishment from Ythulia and imprisonment for life in the Hall of Pain.
    Still, a stone cell in a silent prison was heaven compared to what Kronos and his dark spells could do to a humble squire like Kayne if he disobeyed one of his master’s direct orders. And so he limped along, dreading his fate in either event.
    The Chamber of Ythra was hidden away, tucked in the shadows of the Great Hall and far from the Election Berth, where all the mages had spent nights and days voting on Jaroch’s replacement. 
    Usually the entire hallway to the chamber was lined with guards, up to a dozen at any time, each trained in a special way to kill, but in mourning of their fallen mage, half the guards were gone.
    Kayne nervously fingered the top of the crystal vial as he approached the first guard, a warrior of the Chosen class standing nearly 7-feet tall and outweighing Kayne by a good two hundred pounds. 
    Like all the guards, he came from the Land of Churl, a harsh environment marked by caves and even harsher people, where from birth, children were trained in the lethal arts. All Ythra Guards came from the same clan, and were “Chosen” by the most savage trainers for their skills at killing weaklings like Kayne!
    “Halt,” said the guard, calmly, raising a beefy fist hidden in a clenched glove. He wore the uniform of the Ythra Guard; a rusty orange like the glowing orb itself, covered from head to toe in creaking leather and armored plates. His helmet was orange metal, his tunic orange leather, his pants to match. Only his boots – and his dark, vicious eyes – were black.
    “I believe Kronos has a message for you,” Kayne said, just before releasing the spell. It flowed from the vial like a viper, a cloud of red gaseous smoke that quickly split into six heads, like a side show snake slithering toward its prey. 
    Each cloud of smoke went straight to its intended victim, sliding into their nostrils and turning their eyes, even the whites of their eyes, a smoky red with the power of Kronos’ spell.
    When all six of the guards stood at attention, thick fists saluting him as they brushed their orange helmets, Kayne ordered, “Now, open the door and let me inside.”
    Even with the spell seeming to work, Kayne still feared it was all a ruse, and that the