Free The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) by Daniel McHugh Page B

some answers.”
    “Answers to what?”
    “To who I am!” shouted Kael, not caring who heard “To what I am! Why I am! Why all of this happened! You, me, Father, Mother ... Aemmon! WHY? I NEED TO KNOW WHY?”
    The old man stared at him, his expression unchanging. Kael heaved, red-faced with emotion. Finally, Ader let out a light chuckle.
    “Precisely the questions I wanted answered all these years.”
    The Seraph retrieved his staff and wrapped his cloak tightly around his body.  He stepped past Kael and strode out of the grove. The boy stood perplexed.
    “Coming?” called the Seraph over his shoulder.
    Kael spun and snatched his things from the ground. As he turned back to follow Ader, a torn scrap of paper tumbled into a gorse bush to the Seraph’s left.  The old man’s hand slid back inside his cloak and he pushed on toward the towers of Astel.
    Kael raced to catch up. As he hurried past the gorse bush, he lowered his frame and swept the scrap of paper from the darkness.
     
    The pair walked confidently toward the towering structure. However, Ader did not move toward the massive black gate to the west. Instead, he angled toward the tallest of the castle’s northern towers. It jutted from the main structure, a smooth, soaring cylinder rising high into the night sky. Near its pinnacle two black openings punctured its gray surface like dead eyes.
    The pair stepped closer and Kael stared up at the eyes. Each stride brought him closer to discovery. A loud crunching beneath his feet alarmed him. He froze and his eyes shot to the ground. Bones and boulders lay beneath him. Countless bleached white and shattered skeletons lay amongst the crumbled remains of smashed Ulrog. The sticky tar of Hackle’s blood painted the scene in hash marks of black.
    “It seems Lord Izgra prefers a specific means of dealing with bad news,” stated Ader as he stared at the open windows two hundred yards above. “And it matters not whether you are Ulrog or human.”
    Kael followed the Seraph’s eyes and stared at the tower windows. A chill ran up his spine.
    “The Astelans constructed the tower as an addition after they built the palace,” whispered Ader. “I suggested that the leaders of Astel required a vantage point to look upon their kingdom. It seemed frivolous at the time, but by then they considered me a somewhat eccentric fellow.
    We added the alcove to the side of the throne room above. This tower supports it. The spire itself stood too thin to house anything worthwhile, so people assumed the structure to be solid stone.”
    A sly grin broke across Ader’s face.
    “Actually, I needed a way to consult with the throne without so much fanfare or probing eyes,” laughed Ader. “After a time, Ader DeHartstron evaporated from the living’s memory and was forgotten except for tales of old.
    I still appeared before the leaders of Astel. Usually a week or two after their coronation. I found it helped to let their grief settle before I appeared like a ghost from the past. Most accepted my consul. Others found me difficult to stomach. But all and all I kept my hand deeply involved in the direction of Astel.”
    The Seraph moved forward and rounded the tower. A deep crevice formed where the masonry curved to the south and joined the main building. Brambles and thickets covered the darkened corner and the pair found it difficult to forge ahead. After a brief struggle they wedged themselves between the surface of the tower and the palace. A large stone no bigger than a man’s head lay against the base of the tower.
    “Roll that bit of stone out into the thickets would you my boy?” asked Ader.
    Kael looked questioningly at the old man. Ader shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
    “No special words. No Seraph fire. No flash of lightning,” laughed the old man. “Plain and simple architecture.”
    He winked.
    “A bit of work with levers.”
    Kael obeyed the request and used his foot to push aside the rock. Ader turned and lay his