The Silver Tower (The Age of Dawn Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

staggering walk to the shit hole. Walter didn’t know what day or time it was, or overly cared at the moment. He felt like he was in a living dream, unsure of what was real and what was imagined.
    “Where am I?” he muttered.
    His head pounded like a blacksmith’s anvil, the hammers working hard to beat his brain into something usable. Memories faded in and out with too many empty gaps. Nyset coming by, smiling, scratching his head as he drifted into sleep. Baylan feeding him some type of porridge. A loud bang and Grimbald yelling. He smiled. That must have been the bed.
    Walter scratched at his bare chest, gazing down at the two menacing scars that thickened around his ribs. The Lord of Death, pinning him to the ground, a blade held by his throat. The sacrifice. Wiggles . It all came rushing back in waves of pain.
    He remembered agreeing with the voices in his head, the Phoenix and the Dragon, for the power to live. He had to make a hard choice, but was there really another option? The poor dog probably only had a few more years left anyway, he consoled himself.
    With power comes sacrifice, Noah said from the trenches of his mind. He hadn’t heard his counsel for a while and found himself longing to hear his Sid-Ho master again. Alas, he was dead. Like many others that had been unfortunate to be near his path of destruction. His parents, the people of Breden, the Midgaard Falcon, Lillian, Wiggles, Juzo… whatever the hell happened to you? No journey is complete without collateral damage, right?
    Walter cleared the mucus lining his throat, spitting into the bucket beside the bed, and tossed his legs onto the floor. He wriggled his toes, cold against the diamond cut marble tiles. He shook his arms, lined with newly formed scars and cracked his neck. He stood, walking up to the floor to ceiling mirror mounted to creamy blocks of marble and gilt lining the walls.
    “You sure had fancy taste, Malek,” he said, turning his head from side to side in the mirror, scratching at the start of a beard. The last patch of ashen Cerumal flesh on the back of his neck had finally healed. Today was going to be a good day. “ Every day alive is a good day,”his mother would’ve said.
    “Right,” he said nodding and slipping on a brown tunic sitting atop the front of his bed. Voices carried through the heavy door that remained closed, not particularly pleased ones at that. Walter narrowed his eyes, reaching for the Dragon. Its warmth and chaos was a tidal wave of fury in his muscles and through his bones. His eyes burned with brilliance and long scimitars of dancing flames sprung to life in his hands.
    His eyes widened and he gripped them a little harder. Relax. It’s probably your friends. He opened his hands and the scimitars fell to the ground, dissipating in wisps of smoke. He held onto the Dragon though, swirling flames always a finger’s length away. Deeper, below the angry shell of the Dragon’s flames lurked the Phoenix. It languidly swam in the void, almost seeming to nod at him with a blinking avian eye. Its long tails caressed the hard edges of the Dragon’s spine, bringing a sense of calm control to the angry chaos.
    The familiar emotions of the god’s essences that lived within his chest, love and hate, battled one another for dominance. They were a comfort, a reminder of who he was, what he could do. A dual-wielder, Baylan had called it. It was nice to always have a weapon at your side. Walter had always wanted to be more than an elixir bean farmer. Now he wondered if he’d got more than he wanted.
    The voices drew nearer, muffled through the door.
    “Such ruthless men, why doesn’t the King do anything?” Baylan said with annoyance.
    Walter took a deep breath and placed his hand on the door. His fingers snagging on wood splinters as he pushed it open. The hinges creaked and Nyset and Baylan looked up at him. A smile tugged at the corners of Nyset’s lips and he found her eyes grinning back at him. Walter