Legends of Luternia Read Online Free PDF Page A

coal. Ulrik stepped forward to examine it. “It has the royal seal.” He picked it up and tried to work the knot. The ancient wax crumbled off in shards as the knot unfolded into strands. His hands slipped and it fell open onto the table, unrolling to reveal the parchment inside. The three leaned over and scrutinized it.
    “It’s a map,” said Edgar.
    “Why yes, Edgar, you’re right, it’s a map but I’m not sure what it’s for,” said Ulrik.
    “I wouldn’t trust anything coming from that Mage character,” snorted Helga. “Not much on it, for a map.”
    “The Mage didn’t make this map,” Ulrik said as he examined the parchment. “Look at the beauty of these letters; they look like little pictures.” He pointed to a capital D in the shape of a dragon. “The Mage can’t create anything of beauty and truth. And look here,” he pointed to the signature on the bottom right corner. ‘Maps by Nagel.’ I wonder who he is? I’ll bring the map even though I don’t know what it all means. Like these words, ‘Sleepers Awake.’ What could they ever mean?” They were written across a section of the map not too far off the road running from the castle to the distant shore, a place beyond his father’s domain.
    Edgar shrugged his shoulders. Reading had always been difficult for him and words written in elegant cursive were a complete mystery. Ulrik carefully rerolled the map and tucked it into the safety of his shirt. “We need to finish packing.”
    Helga packed as much food as they could carry into a sturdy leather bag, then went into the pantry and emerged carrying two packages: one an envelope yellowed with age and the other, a large bundle. She placed the larger bundle in Edgar’s hands. “This is a special bread. I made it from a very old recipe; I had to look high and low for the ingredients. When you’ve nothing else to eat, this will keep you going. It’s very rich and will make you sick if you eat too much at once, especially if you stuff yourself silly when you’re truly hungry,” she said looking straight at him. He put on his most serious face and nodded his head in agreement.
    “For you, Uley, this,” she said, pulling a cross strung on a thin black cord from the envelope. “Your father once wore this. Your sainted mother gave it to him before they were married. The Mage took it from him after your mother died and threw it away. I fetched it from the trash and kept it, more in memory of your mother than anything else. You need to wear it now.” She slipped the cross over his head, and then tucked it beneath his shirt next to his skin, whispering, “I’ve wanted to give you this for the longest time and today seems the right time, being it’s your birthday and you’re going to God knows where. Don’t take it off, dear. Not that I believe in magic charms or any of that superstition, but you need to have it.”
    She accompanied them to the stable and helped pack the mule with their luggage. They were following the Mage’s advice to travel in disguise as beggars, for no one need know the truth about the king’s health or the crown prince’s mission. Ulrik suggested that horses would have been faster, but the Mage explained that secrecy was of greater importance than speed. Even though Ulrik didn’t trust the Mage, he had no reason not to follow his instructions. While they readied the mule, Ulrik repeatedly looked up at the stable’s remarkable ceiling and the remnants of the images left in the east window’s remaining stained glass.
    This place wasn’t always like this,” said Helga wistfully. When I first came here as a young woman, this building wasn’t a stable filled with horses, mules, and straw. Then it was filled with . . .” She swallowed back her tears with a grunt and said to them, “Enough of that. You have to go quickly before I won’t let you.” She pulled each of them to herself with her great arms, Edgar first, then Ulrik. The prince wanted to cling to