Kingdoms in Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page B

closed, and with it went the beautiful pain.
    Furious, she chopped at the big wooden door with her mighty sword. Three swings had it hanging from its hinges. A young man stood before her bravely, holding a fire poker in his right hand and an iron pan in the other.
    RUN! Her mind screamed to him, though she could not.
    Three crossbow bolts slammed into her armor from the side. Relieved, she turned from the young man in the doorway and charged the shooters. They reloaded their darts quickly, but not quick enough. Aurora closed the distance between them in two heartbeats. Her sword found the chest of one, a boot to the head laid out another. One of the remaining men raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt grazed her cheek as she twirled and slashed his throat. The final crossbowman quickly fled but found the blade of an undead soldier.
    Aurora turned back toward the cottage and found that the hordes had already finished them off.
    In only half an hour Zander’s hordes killed everyone in the village. Aurora stood on the hill as she had before the carnage began. Azzeal watched beside her, silent as usual. She knew there was something left of the elf she had betrayed, but only rarely did his consciousness emerge.
    She noted that his blade was also stained with the blood of humans.
    The village below began to glow, and Zander’s necromantic spell echoed across the fields and up the hill. The green glow converged on the square, and soon many lights began to sprout up, illuminating the churning clouds overhead.
    When he had finished, the undead villagers began to file out of their now burning village. Aurora caught sight of a group of undead children. The wounds that had killed them were still fresh, and their eyes glowed with the same green light as all the others. A baby scurried after them like an insect. Aurora turned her head in horror, wishing once again to be free from her living nightmare.
     
    Through eyes of glowing green, Azzeal watched Aurora silently weeping. He smiled to himself—something still remained of the woman she had been. Behind her, the village burned brightly, and the silhouettes of the newest members of the undead army joined the ranks. Through his link to Zander, he felt pride, satisfaction.
    Azzeal hid back in the depths of his mind, lest he be discovered and devoured. He needed to be patient; the time would come for him to exert his will. Until then he would store his strength. There would be only one chance, and there was no room for mistakes.

Chapter 8
Hope and Despair
     
     
    Tarren stared at his old, weathered hands. The knuckles were knotted and swollen, the lines on the long boney fingers running like wood grain, yet the nails were thick and strong. He sat in wonder at all the things those hands had done, the things that they had created, the magic they had once wielded. He often stared at those hands—hands that were not his own.
    “Are you paying attention?” Lunara asked.
    Tarren glanced at her. “Sorry,” he said in the Watcher’s voice.
    Lunara stared. There was compassion in her eyes, but also a steely resolve. “Am I bothering you? I know that geography isn’t your favorite, but—”
    “What’s the point?” Tarren asked, head bowed. He couldn’t look at her.
    She sighed deeply and sat back from the table. The wind curled the edges of the map of Agora he was supposed to be studying. It was a warm breeze, a soft whisper on the skin. Below their veranda the tulips swayed. The castle grounds were brightly lit by the warm sun sitting high in a cloudless sky.
    “What’s the point of what?” she asked.
    “My learning all of this…learning anything…what is the point?”
    “Your sulking can wait until the lesson is complete.”
    “I’m trapped in the body of a thousand-year-old elf!”
    “Actually, the Watcher is much older than—”
    “I think I’m dying.”
    For a moment she was speechless.
    “Don’t be foolish. If you’re feeling unwell, perhaps you should speak