Return of the Guardian-King Read Online Free PDF Page A

for she fascinated him as no other. . . .
    Stepping toward him, she blew another plume of her breath across his face. It was sweeter now, tingling on his face. Again the world blurred and shivered. Her eyes were magnificent . . . deep dark pools that recalled to him Shettai, his first love . . . and then his wife, as she looked sometimes in the darkness of the night, lit only by the bedside kelistar when he had—
    He shut off the thought at once, aghast at how the thing in his mind had pulled it out of his memory—still sought it, in fact—eager to absorb it.
    A throaty chuckle echoed in his head, and the insistent prying eased, gave way to a warm, soporific pleasure.
    “Alaric?”
    That was Rolland. He seemed quite near. What did he want now?
    “Can you hear me, Alaric? Everyone’s inside the monastery. You can come back to the path.”
    Irritation ate at the dreamlike lassitude. Why is Rolland intruding when he must see that I am occupied with important matters?
    “If you want to pass, little pup, you must do so according to the old way, when dragons ruled the skies and only those warriors most worthy in heart and mind and flesh could fight them for the right to pass.”
    But you are not a dragon, Abramm thought at it.
    “Are you sure? Try me and see. Much of my father is in me. How much of yours is in you?”
    Her answer befuddled him and she knew it, laughing at the pleasure of his confusion. “Surely a great warrior-king as you can handle one as lowly as I. Come and meet me. Show my sons your true strength. . . .”
    He was tempted, though he had only a stick. Part of him knew the notion that he could win was ridiculous. Part of him thought it might be his destiny. He carried the Light of Eidon in his heart and flesh, after all, and nothing was stronger than that. Moreover, his command of it was mature now, advanced as few others ever achieved. If anyone could face this creature, it was he. . . .
    “Yes,” Tapheina said, her voice rough and husky in his mind. “You are a warrior of the Light who need not be bound by a path prepared for those of lesser status. Come, show me your strength, my beautiful pup. . . .”
    Snow drifted across his boots, powdery and light, and the flakes continued to fall, big and wet and fluttering. The will to close with her mounted. He would take her, rid the valley of her and her offspring, make the way safe for others. . . . He could do it. Had he not slain the morwhol and the kraggin and Beltha’adi himself?
    Someone was yelling at him from up the hill. A deep voice, calling his name and harping on that wretched path again. It was Rolland, of course. Why couldn’t he see that Abramm had all in hand? Rolland and the others might need the path, but why didn’t he understand that Abramm did not?
    “I taste your strength, my king. You are worthy of me, as few of your kind have ever been. Join with me in combat, show them all who you really are. . . .”
    Tapheina stepped closer. Another veil of her breath curled into his mouth and nose.
    The dizziness was delicious this time. He could almost see her human form, could almost see the shape of her hips and her—
    Someone seized him from behind and jerked him around. He thought to defend himself, but the staff with which he intended to whack his attacker moved with shocking sluggishness. He heard Tapheina’s outraged snarl, had a split-second glimpse of Rolland’s bearded face before the big man hoisted him onto his shoulder and sprinted through the snow. Behind them the wolves exploded with shrieks of fury, and Abramm felt them leap to attack. Something tugged on his arm, something hard dug into his middle, and suddenly he sprawled facedown in the snow. The wolves closed, snarling viciously. He braced for attack—
    It did not come, though he had no idea why, for he felt their outrage and even shared it. She had wanted him, and now someone was stealing him away and he felt bitterly disappointed. A wave of nausea shuddered through