One (The Godslayer Cycle Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

punish those whom it had set aside to be persecuted.  It was not only acceptable to treat heretics with malicious contempt, it was divinely ordained!  All the ills of society could be heaped upon the heretics, all the pent-up hostilities people faced everyday could be vented their way.  It did not matter that that very treatment was what necessitated the need of a heretic to steal and trespass in order to simply survive in the first place – what mattered was that the priests of these new Gods had villains to blame the woes the people suffered under their doctrines upon.
    So Avery fully knew the consequences he would face if he were discovered in the loft.  And suddenly his fear of being discovered outweighed his need for a secure place to sleep for the night.  He was possessed with a great urgency to get out of that place before whatever it was moving around at the edge of his senses in turn caught hint of his presence, as well.
    He could not leave by the way he had come in, though.  Not in the dark.  He would have to crawl down from the loft into the main work area of the blacksmith's shop.  And whatever lurked just outside his ability to detect could just as easily be below as outside.
    Avery tried to control his shaking as he gathered up the blanket he had rolled out upon the damp straw.  It was ratty and worn, with probably just as much mold in its fabric as the hay it lay upon, but he could not leave it behind, no matter his urgency.  It would be all that existed between him and the cold that he would now have to sleep in outside.  And besides, it was his oldest remaining possession.
    Once the blanket was rolled into a small, tight bundle – the cord he had once had to tie it had broken days ago – Avery threw his satchel over his left shoulder, using his right arm to carry the blanket roll.  Once he was in a more lighted area, he could try to find something to lash the two bundles together, but that was simply something he could not spare the time for here.  True, there may well have been old string or cord from hay bails in the loft, but he would have spent far too much time feeling around in the dark than he could afford.  It was far more important to get out of the building before his sense of dread overwhelmed him and he bolted recklessly into flight.  Yet he needed stealth to win free without detection, no matter how strong the urge to panic really was.  Running blindly through the dark would only decrease his chance of escape, and escape he desperately wanted to do.
    Slowly, Avery crept to the edge of the loft and looked into the room below.  A soft orange glow could still be seen around the edges of the kiln door where the blacksmith smelted his ore.  During the day, that furnace would be the sole source of heat for the entire operation.  Now it contained little more than embers and its warmth only emanated a few feet from its door.
    As Avery paused in his wait, he cast back over a memory of a time when he had slipped into a foundry and had the opportunity to watch a smith at work.  That had been a blacksmith shop of somewhat more repute than this one, for certain.  That had been a maker of fine weapons and armor.  Yet he had been fascinated with what he saw, and though Avery had understood little of the actual procedures he had witnessed, he had walked away from the experience with a rich appreciation for the metalworker bending raw elements to his will.
    The erstwhile trespasser strained his ears, listening for anything that would betray the presence of a sentry or fellow trespasser.  After several minutes, he still was not convinced that he was truly alone, but he could not make himself wait any longer to escape.
    Avery carefully tossed down his satchel and blanket roll, tensing in the dark as they each made a soft impact on the dirt floor below.  Again he waited, this time to see if anything stirred in response, but only for a few seconds this time.  With care, he lowered himself