The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) Read Free Page B

hair, and oddly colored eyes shocked him into a silence more absolute than the death he had just come from.
    The oddity of the situation was only made worse when the elves finally reached Jovian and began sniffing him all over, their faces plunging here and there, even places that would make any normal person blush at the audacity of the race’s curiosity. Maeven could have told him that this was the way the elves came to know a person, for they didn’t recognize faces and names but instead they recognized the smell and the sound of a person. Jovian was the last to get the odd treatment.
    “Jovian,” Angelica said. “Something strange is happening.”
    “I must agree, Angie, something strange is definitely happening.” She scowled at him, not sure what he meant, but Maeven—red-cheeked with embarrassment—looked down at Jovian, then averted his eyes. Angelica shook her head disapprovingly still unsure what he meant, and continued.
    “I mean with this whole journey, the heirloom, your sword, that woman named Porillon.” At the mention of the woman’s name, hate swelled up in Angelica and her palms began to prickle. She had to forcibly push the emotion aside as the memory of Lockelayters warning came to her. “I have a really odd feeling.”
    “Yeah, me too,” he said with another laugh, gesturing to the elves. Angelica finally understood what he meant and scoffed.
    “When you are done enjoying your sniffing, meet me over by the fire.”
    He did, about ten minutes later, supported by Maeven who lowered him on a rock beside his sister then sat, taking Jovian’s hand once more.
    “Where are the others?” Jovian asked rubbing his head.
    Angelica was silent for a moment as she watched the crackling fire. “Grace and Joya have gone out hunting for the flowering five-fingered grass. I guess it is sacred to them.”
    Jovian smiled. “Yeah, I bet it is.”
    Angelica looked at him with piercing eyes, a remnant of the sorceresses name bitter on her tongue. “Do you remember anything of what happened?”
    Jovian considered a moment before he spoke. Plucking at the grass and finding a long strand, he stuck it between his teeth and began chewing on it. “Yes, I remember Amber not being able to come with us, and then that woman Grace knew attacked us.”
    Angelica shook her head. “She also spoke of the necklace, and of your sword. Jovian. Both of them were mother’s, and both of them seem to have unexplained powers. There is something going on, and we are not being told the whole story.”
    Jovian looked back to the fire, worrying his lip, and he tossed a handful of grass into it. “Do you think Grace is keeping something from us like that woman said?”
    “She admitted it the other night to me. She didn’t tell me anything of what she knew, but she did say that we would talk about it all when you were back with us.”
    “Well then I guess there is no more of her dodging around things, is there?”
    Angelica nodded once and smiled at the crackling fire as Maeven left to get Jovian some much needed food.
     
     

 
    The ancient stone steps that ran down into the underground city of Dellenbore were surrounded by a large arched tunnel lined with torches in metal sconces. The descent into the mine city did not start in the side of the Mountains of Nependier, but instead started in a small cave at the edge of Whitewood Haven, still within the embrace of the bleached trees. If they had not been shown the way to the dank entrance, Jovian would never have known it was there. At one time he was looking at a large, moss covered bolder; the next thing he saw were vines and ivy being parted by elven hands to reveal the entrance that both crackled with the flames of the torches and tinkled with the sound of dripping water.
    The stairs descended in a square pattern that Jovian thought should have been in ill repair due to the length of time the stairs must have been there, but instead appeared to have been carved scant days