Tower of Trials: Book One of Guardian Spirit Read Free Page A

the hem of her red duster. She always seemed too small for her outfit, much less her designation of reaper, but the body only mattered to humans, not spirits. Mother was the toughest, most ruthless spirit he knew, especially when she disapproved of something.
    But when her hand settled atop his head, he knew it for the blessing it was. A feeling of warmth spread through him, and he blinked heavily despite himself. Focusing on her words helped rein in his wayward emotions.
    “Remember, Son, though Purgatory has seen this night as a milestone in your life, she has not seen your success. That is yours to earn or lose. Your fate is now linked to your charges’ quest.”
    Then she stalked outside to the welcoming whicker of Susurrus.
    Guard rose and almost leapt over the raised threshold. Too late. Mother had galloped off, bursting herself and her mount into red smoke once she reached the mouth of West Arcade. She avoided the exit at the far end, instead surging up through the opening where ghouls had once leapt down upon his foster-father, when they had killed him.
    He flinched at the memory.
    And startled at a touch on his shoulder: Mace leaning down in her saddle. “Don’t worry, Future Archer. I know you fear boredom in this little City, but once you are a spirit, you’ll no longer be plagued with that or other human emotions. There is only duty.”
    Duty. Duty had assigned him, through the Council, his foster-parents. Duty had allowed for a single day of mourning for a lost comrade.
    That ceremony had made things worse, sharper, because it had been too brief.
    By human standards, not spirit.
    If Fuller were here today . . . he would have left as quickly as Swift herself.
    “Did you hear me, Future Archer? Tip your head back; I want to get that troublesome bit of metal off your throat.”
    As soon as he complied, her blade moved, a slick of gray slanting upward. She was already resheathing her vanilla-like-scented bone-wood sword by the time he caught the shorn collar in his gloves.
    “Oh, and take this.”
    He accepted the roll of thick, old paper but didn’t open it.
    “The map only covers The Second Trial of The Crypt, but Swift thought it might help you. Now I must follow my charge to where we will watch and await your return. We will not be far, just outside The City. I will see that nothing happens to it in your absence. Good luck, Future Archer.” She tipped her head and kneed her bayard forward.
    She disappeared the same way his mother had gone, aetherizing herself and her horse.
    And then Guard was alone.
    With a map his mother had given him. With a future name more solid than the broken metal in his hand. And with a future purpose, which while not perfect, was still one he longed to earn. Spirithood. Guardianship. Honor. Duty.
    So when he returned to his home, he crossed the short way to the wall opposite the door, tossed aside the blankets that were his occasional bed, and lifted the trapdoor over his cache. He placed inside the iron until he could properly dispose of it, taking care to wrap it in bone-wood cloth so when he was a full spirit he could safely touch it. Then he pulled out his bag and removed from it what he might need. He would travel light. The map and a few other items went into a magically expandable pouch. He secured it to the belt over his right hip. On his right leg, he strapped on a sheathed bone-wood knife. And this time, he remembered to add his bone-wood short sword over his left hip. But it was his bow he retrieved and squeezed and smiled over.
    By the time a new night fell, he would no longer be mortal.
    He’d be Guardian Spirit of the City of Dead, Holm of Kaskey. He’d be . . .
    “Archer,” he breathed.

CHAPTER 3
     
    Guard found his charges arguing over the corpse. Percy was for taking it back and trying the next day with a real spirit, but Lydia was shaking her head, rummaging through the iron-smelling contents of her bag and ignoring the slide of the leather-bound book on