The Last Enchanter Read Online Free PDF

Marcus had long before put Agnes in her pen, drawn water for the next morning, and shut the cottage door tightly behind him.
    Before Dokur, before he had conquered his fear, he understood why he was afraid. Everything made sense. But now, as the sky grew dark above the forest of trees, the uneasiness he felt made no sense at all.
    It’s nothing, he told himself, but with each step the light grew dimmer and his courage grew weaker.
    â€œWe’ll stop here,” he said, tossing his bundle to the ground.
    Clovis walked another few paces and then tossed his knapsack beside Marcus’s. “I guess here’s as good a place as any,” he said through a yawn. “Should I get some wood?”
    It would have been easy to make fire. The enchantment that had once seemed so impossible now came almost without thinking, but Marcus hesitated. He thought of the pain it would bring on, and what Zyll had told him: Magic is power, but power comes with a price.
    Luckily, Clovis had come prepared. His flint and wool made quick work of the kindling, and they soon had a warm fire. After Marcus and Clovis ate some food from their packs, they spread out their blankets and lay down for the night.
    Just as Marcus had convinced himself that it was safe to fall asleep, something in the darkness caught his attention. It wasn’t anything he could see. It was more of a feeling that someone—or something—was there.
    Marcus shook Clovis by the shoulder. Clovis, who had already fallen asleep, groaned as he sat up. When he saw the knife in Marcus’s hand, he reached for his quiver, drawing out two arrows. Marcus placed a finger to his lips, motioning for silence.
    â€œWhat is it?” Clovis mouthed.
    Marcus leaned close and whispered in his ear. “We’re not alone.”

Twelve
    B y the time Jayson reached the edge of the village, darkness had fallen, and the wide, grass huts stood guard in the moonlight. He slowed his pace a little and listened. Once more, the voice called for him by name. He went toward it and found Nathar waiting for him.
    â€œI came as quickly as I could,” said Jayson. “What is it?”
    Nathar was one of the pureblood Agorans Jayson freed from the Celestine mines. He was tall and proud, though the web of scars on his back showed what he had endured there. Jayson recalled the anger that had burned in Nathar’s eyes upon their first meeting. That anger served Nathar well in the battle with the Hestorians. Nathar had been Jayson’s closest friend ever since.
    â€œThe elders have called for you,” Nathar said.
    â€œThe elders? But why?”
    Nathar pressed his eyelids shut. “I can’t believe this. Not really,” he whispered more to himself than aloud.
    â€œWhat has happened?” Jayson asked.
    â€œA messenger just arrived from Dokur. It’s Fredric . . .” The Agoran’s voice broke off, but he quickly regained control of himself. “He is dead.”
    The words struck Jayson to his core. It was true that he had never liked Fredric. Rather, he had more than ample cause to hate him, but hate him he did not. Despite Fredric’s past crimes, the king had been one of the few links Jayson had to Ivanore.
    Jayson clenched his jaw, his heart filling with sorrow, not for himself but for his sons who had lost their grandfather. Jayson wished he could be with them to comfort them.
    â€œYou said the elders want to talk to me?” Jayson asked.
    Nathar nodded again. “They plan to send you to Dokur.”
    â€œOf course,” replied Jayson, “but I am still needed here. We are to return to our lands soon. There is still much to do to prepare.”
    â€œAs it stands, there may be no return.”
    â€œWhat are you saying, Nathar?”
    â€œThis is what I dread telling you, my friend. Fredric’s order to return the Agorans to our homelands has been revoked.”
    â€œRevoked?” cried Jayson with growing