AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PROLOGUE
THE BARON
Centuries ago …
Every muscle in the boy’s body shook, as he stared down the side of the mountain toward the ground, where the tops of trees appeared as tiny as the wooden horses he had played with as a child. The air was thinner closer to the peak, and no matter how hard and fast he breathed, he could not fill his lungs. How foolish of him to have ventured up the most dangerous mountain in all of Praecepsia.
As he stood almost swaying, the cruel words of his father chimed inside his head–the same words which had goaded him up the treacherous rock in the first place, knowing all the while that few had ever made it to the top of Mount Helios. Certainly not a boy who had only just reached his twelfth year.
“You’re weak. Pathetic. No son of mine!”
The baron might have proven that he was not weak, had he not gotten stuck on the ledge of a rock with no means to climb further. The next possible foothold sat too far out of reach for him, but climbing down proved to be impossible, also, considering a faint mist of rain had turned the stony surface slippery. He knew he would be stuck on that ledge, forced to wait out the misty rain until it dried—except, the temperatures would soon drop, and with no shelter or means to stay warm, he would surely freeze to death. Of course, his mother would undoubtedly search for him and, if necessary, set the hounds to track him, but after how long? It wasn’t unusual for the boy to venture into the woods for hours at a time, coming home at dusk on occasion.
Perhaps hewasweak and pathetic, after all. What kind of imbecile would trap himself on Mount Helios with no means to climb back down?
The anger from before twisted in his stomach as he imagined his father laughing at his ignorance. He could hear the bastard’s voice rattling inside his skull, and the boy slammed his palms to his ears.
“Quiet! Quiet!” he screamed in a poor attempt to silence the laughter. Teeth grinding, he closed his eyes, creating jagged flashes of light behind his tight lids. “I despise you,” he whispered, his voice wobbly with the threat of tears. “You have never been a father to me. And you never will.”
With renewed fervor, the boy turned toward the next foothold, twice his height above him. Perhaps he could jump.
No. If anything, he should venture downward. Closer to the ground, not farther away. He’d tried to step down before, though, and nearly lost his footing. Fortunately, he’d been able to catch himself before tumbling down to what would’ve surely been a painful death.
Yet, faced with the prospect of standing there all night, it was worth another try.
On a deep breath, he stepped cautiously, turning himself to face the mountain, as he’d been positioned while climbing up. With one knee bent, he lowered himself slowly, using the toe of his boot to search for the next narrow ledge. Clutching a small pocket in the rock’s surface, he scarcely breathed, not wanting to throw himself off balance.
The sole of his boot hit the surface, and he released a shaky exhale, his fingers cramping from the toil of gripping tightly. He leaned carefully into the descent, reluctant to put all his weight onto the ledge below him.
His boot slipped.
He lost his hold of the pocket.
Fire burned over his belly as it slid across the jagged rock, and his elbows slammed onto the wider ledge upon which he’d stood moments before. With every ounce of strength inside of him, he pulled himself up, his muscles simmering, trembling, threatening to fail him at any moment. Still, he refused to give up. He refused to fall to his death. What mockery his father would make of it–the stupid, illegitimate boy who had made a perilous climb to prove himself.
Despite his father’s allegiance to the Pentacrux, the boy had never had much faith in religion, but in that moment, he prayed. To any god willing to listen.
“Help me. Please. Show me the way back down.” His words were a quiet whisper, caught on a brisk wind that had him clutching the ledge tighter than before. He toed the wall of the mountain for purchase, and with his strength waning, he managed the slightest foothold. Just enough to pull himself up so that his ribs rested against the ledge. From there, he hiked a knee up and rolled himself back onto safety.
With his forehead pressed to the rock, he swallowed a gulp and breathed deeply, his muscles stiff and aching from the pressure.
He was stuck. No way to get down. No way to climb higher.
No shelter, nor food. Only a small waterskin, the contents of which wouldn’t last beyond one more day.
Unless by some miracle he was found and could be rescued, he would have to wait out the rain and pray the accompanying wind was enough to dry the rock.
Or find another way.
Defeated, the baron pushed to his feet, and once again, he could hear the laughter of his father.
No son of mine would be so foolish.You would be better off jumping to your death.
Tears stung his eyes as he stared downward, wondering if it would be painful to jump, or if he would die a merciful death before striking the ground. In the distance, he caught a flash that sent a heavy weight of dread sinking to his stomach.
No.
The lightning flashed again. Closer that time.
