Stormwielder (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

harsh crunch and a second later Gabriel lay slumped on the ground, unconscious.
    “Come, Eric, we are running out of time,” Alastair said over his shoulder.
    Eric nodded, struggling to peel his eyes from Gabriel. How had the old man moved so quickly?
    “He’ll be fine. Come!” he moved off. Eric followed, his not-so-silent shadow.
    They emerged into an empty street. Above them towered the bulk of the city’s outer walls, the brick and stone forming a silent shadow on the night sky. Beyond, the stars glittered and the cold moon had taken its place in the sky.
    Alastair took the lead again, crossing the road and picking his way through the rubble of an old building until they reached the foot of the city walls. Eric stared at the giant blocks of stone that made up the thirty-foot wall. Each rock had been worn smooth by the passage of time, their surface slick with rain. He placed a hand to the cold stone. The ramparts of this wall had overlooked Oaksville for centuries. In all that time they had stood as protection against the dangers without. Today they had witnessed the fall of Oaksville.
    A knotted rope trailed down from high above, flapping in the night’s breeze. Alastair took the rope in one hand. Eric’s legs trembled and fear rose in his chest. His heart began to race. He was terrified of heights; the thought of clambering up that rope was horrifying.
    Alastair held out the rope. “They had already barred the gates when I reached the city, so I had to make my own way in. I left this here in case I needed to leave the same way. You’ll need to climb first and wait at the top for me. There is another rope on the other side, but I’ve hidden it well. If you hear a guard while you’re up there, whistle. But I imagine most are busy elsewhere.”
    Eric struggled to keep his fear to himself. His breath came in quick, short gasps and a cold sweat trickled down his brow. Hands shaking, he slipped Alastair’s short sword into his belt, walked forward and took the rope.
    You can do this , he repeated the mantra to himself.
    He looked up. The wall towered thirty feet above his head. Gritting his teeth, he began to pull himself up hand over hand. With each lunge he planted the tips of his feet firmly in the shallow cracks of the wall before moving on.
    At first the going was relatively easy; the knots gave him something to grip so he rarely slipped. Yet as he moved upwards the stones became more worn, the cracks between them finer. His old boots struggled to find grip.
    Twenty feet above the town his feet slipped on the slick surface. He grasped desperately at the rope and slammed into the cold wall. His muscles ached from the strain and his hands burned where the coarse rope had slipped between his fingers. He scrambled to find purchase with his feet, the desperate seconds seemingly like hours. Finally the tips of his boots found a crack and he was able to relieve his arms of some weight. 
    Eric took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure, acutely aware of the open air beneath him. His arms shook with the effort.
    It took another five minutes to reach the top. With the last of his strength he threw himself over the battlements. In that moment he did not care whether a guard waited for him or not. All that mattered was escaping the yawning chasm beneath him.
    Head spinning, chest heaving, Eric peered over the side. He could hardly believe he had made it. After a few seconds he drew back again. He shook his head, trying to free himself of the fear lodged there. He finally thought to look for guards. The bright moonlight illuminated the empty ramparts. 
    Eric managed a grim smile. Boot scuffled on stone and then Alastair was settling himself beside him. A hint of sweat shone on his forehead but otherwise he showed no sign of exertion.
    He nodded to Eric. “I’ll go down first, you look exhausted.” He crossed to the other side, reached between two crenulations and pulled up a rope. He vanished over the