Beyond the Sapphire Gate: Epic Fantasy-Some Magic Should Remain Untouched (The Flow of Power Book 1) by R.V. Johnson

Author:R.V. Johnson [Johnson, R.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Lost In New World Publishing
Published: 2015-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

NO MIRTH

Light surrounded Garn. Gratified, he absorbed some of its pure white luminance, drawing it deep within him with one long pull. Details emerged from around the light’s ragged edges: a pale, shaved log beam overhead, a glassless window cross-trimmed with bars, a sanded bedpost. Wood joists spotted with dark brown stains, designated leaks from above, the source of a stale mold scent. Mold wasn’t good. He’d break out in hives if forced to be around fungi too long.

He pulled light in, imbibing deeper. With each pull, his thoughts took on coherence, establishing a firmer link to his sense of who he’d been, who he was, who he strove to be. He had a mission.

He sat up, looking for the way out. The small room was barren except for the large bed, a small vanity, and a matching wardrobe. A rough-cut wooden door with an oval, iron-barred window was the room’s sole exit.

The flight from the alley flooded into memory. Briefly, he wondered how he could still be alive, but it didn’t matter. He had a mission.

He stood. Gripping the door latch, he twisted until he met resistance. The door was locked, no surprise there. In the room adjacent to his, two men sat in silence at the far end of a long, scarred table, sipping tankards filled to the brim with an amber liquid. Two men he recognized. One wore a red-robe, the other, a leather hood ending at the sternum. A woman joined them, taking a seat demurely next to the black-hooded man sitting at the table’s head. The woman, too, was familiar.

“How long is he going to be here?” Corteezsha asked. Setting a delicate glass on the table, she poured a red liquid from a bronze-colored bottle.

“When you refer to he, I assume you mean me,” Malkor said. He took a long pull from the tankard, wiping foam from his goatee with the back of his bronzed hand. Plopping the tankard down, he belched. “I would’ve departed hours ago, if not for you.”

The blonde curls draping under Corteezsha’s chin shook slightly as she locked eyes with the red-robed man. “Me? I would be the last person to detain your departure. You may go now, if you’d like.”

Malkor scowled, narrowing his oval brown eyes. “I delayed to attempt a final heal to your pet mark for you. I’ve expended much effort to provide the Flow for a rapid heal. The fool won’t draw upon it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have repaired his blood circulator. His death would have come quickly, and I wouldn’t be here expending my energies for you. It’s not as if I do not have other duties elsewhere.”

Slamming his tankard on the table with enough force foam rose to the top and spilled over the sides, the Hooded Man leaned forward, his voice soft and ominous. “You healed him at my command, not hers. You would do well to remember that.”

Malkor quavered. “Yes, Great One. May I ask, why have the fool healed?”

The black hood swung slowly toward Garn.

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