The Rock of Ivanore Read Free Page A

on, all of you! Go on before I pronounce you all failures and assign you to a lifetime of weeding the marshes!”
    The boys all hurried off the platform and disappeared one by one through the nearby trees with the clanking of weapons and tin plates echoing behind them. Before Marcus could follow, he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder.
    â€œI do not wish for you to travel alone on this journey,” said Zyll, his usual subdued mood returned. He grasped his staff around its middle with his right hand and held it so that his face met the eagle’s, nose to beak. The eagle’s eyes stared blankly forward. “So, Xerxes, it seems the day has come that we must part. I expect you will be as worthy a companion to this boy as you have been to me. What’s that now?” Then Zyll added with a hearty laugh, “Oh, I can manage with an old hickory branch to lean upon.”
    Zyll held out the staff to Marcus. “Take him,” he said, “before I change my mind and give you the hickory branch instead.”
    Marcus hesitated. He did not wish to take his master’s staff, not only because Zyll was in such great need of it, but also because it had long been the butt of many jokes among his peers. And now, if he were to be seen with it, surely their jokes would be directed at him.
    Marcus was about to decline the gift when he made the mistake of looking at his master’s eyes. Never before had Marcus seen the expression they now wore. All at once it conveyed to Marcus Zyll’s deep love for Xerxes—and for him. So he said nothing, taking the staff and nodding his thanks. Zyll stepped down from the platform and walked briskly away. He stopped abruptly and turned.
    â€œWhat is it, boy?” Zyll shouted, waving his hand as if shooing away a lazy rooster. “Must I light a fire underfoot to get you to move?”
    Marcus smiled at his master’s performance, for he knew that Zyll was not really angry with him.
    â€œMind you care for Xerxes as your own,” Zyll advised as though he were delegating to Marcus the care of a young child. “Treat him well, and you’ll find he’s just full of surprises!” he added with a chuckle. “And bring him back to me in one piece, if you please!”
    Marcus waved Xerxes above his head in a final goodbye. He swung his satchel over his shoulder and checked his pocket to see that the key Zyll had given him was still in its place. Then he hurried forward, eager for whatever adventures awaited.

Three
    ar away from the village of Quendel, on the shore of Illian Bay, the half-breed pulled his small but sturdy vessel from the sea. He removed the scroll from beneath his cloak and unrolled it onto the dry sand, weighing down its corners with stones. He was certain he had landed in the correct cove and that a path through the forest waited nearby. He must only find it—a task he expected would not prove difficult, for he had Agoran blood flowing through his veins. His eyes, gray as ash, were more catlike than human in both appearance and ability. Though only half Agoran, still he could discern greater detail than his human cousins, a talent that gave him confidence that he could succeed where few humans had before him.
    The Isle of Imaness was a formidable fortress, encircled by high, menacing cliffs and merciless tides. Many ships had met an unfortunate fate by them. Only two safe harbors existed along its shores. The first was a treacherous inlet on the northwestern border of the province of Dokur. The other lay at the southernmost tip of the island—the gently sloping sands of Illian Bay.
    Guarded by jagged rocks that stood like armed sentinels along the shore, the northwestern coast was doubly secure due to the vigilant Eye of Dokur, a lofty tower overlooking the bay. No ship approached Dokur unseen, and the half-breed Agoran had his reasons for concealing his arrival.
    The only other choice was to approach Imaness through