The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) Read Free Page B

more traditional, he would have been on the ground groveling, desperate to pay homage to the Watcher within the Stone.  As it was, he stood—head held high, shoulders back, the damp ground seeming to validate his lack of faith.  A bit muddy for groveling , he decided with a pragmatic half-smile.
    He knew he should stop and make camp.  That would be the prudent thing to do.  There probably wasn’t enough time to climb to the top of even the first rise before dark.  But it was such a relief to be out in the open again, where he could breathe, that he felt he could do anything. Imagine, he thought, how glorious it would be to sleep up there tonight.  It’s not that big—just a hill really.  Bet I could make it if I set my mind to it.
    Unfortunately, the small, tree-dotted slope turned out to be a good deal more challenging than it had appeared.  In order to keep his pack from throwing him off balance, he had to lean far forward as he climbed.  He was glad Blakeland wasn’t there to see.  “Come, little brother,” he would have laughed, “Grandfather Rocaren can climb faster than you.”  But then his eldest brother seldom had trouble with anything.
    Determined not to allow his shortcomings to conquer him, Andaris grabbed onto branches and tree roots, clinging to whatever he could find, feet scrabbling for purchase.  One wrong step would send him tumbling.  He had known he wasn’t in peak condition, that his legs were skinny and weak.  He had known he would have an adjustment period.  He just hadn’t counted on it being quite so…grueling.
    To make matters worse, the weather was beginning to shift, and not for the better.  The wind now howled out of the north, marring the perfect day with dark billowing clouds and a plummeting temperature.  Andaris eyed the rising plumes with apprehension, at which time a peal of thunder, low and deep, rumbled across the sky.  A raindrop hit him square on the nose.  One drop followed the next and, in no time, he found himself in the midst of a steady downpour.
    The dirt beneath his feet soon turned to soup, making his perch even more precarious.  Several times he slipped, and once he even fell, cutting his elbow on a sharp rock.  He wasn’t far from the top of the hill.  If he could only make it another twenty feet or so he’d be safe.
    Darkness fell as he labored.  Lightning flashed across the sky with dazzling violence.  The wind picked up strength, buffeting him from one side to the other, driving the cold rain into him in waves, stinging his skin and stealing his sight.  Andaris forced his legs on, willing himself upward.
    And then somehow he was standing atop the hill, eyes darting this way and that, searching for shelter.  He had never experienced a storm like this in the lowlands, a storm so intense and furious.  He had seen dark clouds around the peaks before, but had not guessed it would be like this.   Can’t last, he thought.
    As if to prove him wrong, the rain began to fall even harder.  Ice! he realized.  Desperate to escape the cruel needles, Andaris ran as swiftly as his legs would take him, and very nearly collided with the craggy face of a cliff.  He scuttled along the base of the cliff to his right, skidding to a halt scant inches from the edge of a sheer drop.
    Shaken and breathing hard, he turned back around, and there, just a few feet in front of him, was the entrance to a cave.  The opening was a flat circle of black about as tall and wide as he was, a yawning mouth inset with jagged stone teeth.  He hesitated, despite the hail, wary about walking into that empty dark.
    Could be an animal in there , he thought.  A wolf…or even a bear.   Just then, a marble-sized chunk of ice hit the ground at his feet.  He took a step back, and suddenly they were falling all around, jumping like popped corn in a pan.
    Andaris made a dash for the opening, stumbling as one of the ice marbles struck him on the shoulder.  His hand went