Free The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour by Martin Hengst Page A

chamber.
                  The entire coup was over within minutes of its start. No one on the council had survived the assault, and most of those who had attended the faux trial lay dead or dying on the floor of the chamber.
                  The Warleader scooped up the gore-matted gavel, brandishing it above his head as he leapt to the top of the Advocate’s table, somehow, miraculously, still standing among the detritus of battle.
                  “The council is dead! I swear my loyalty to a new Lord Regent, the High Priest!” Xenir dropped the gavel and went to a knee. The genuflection spread rapidly through the crowd, until all the Chosen had taken a knee before Zarfensis.
                  “My brothers and sisters!” Zarfensis spoke loudly, so his voice would carry into the tunnel beyond. “Let today usher in a time of dominance and superiority for the Chosen. Let us seek out and destroy our enemies where they live and never again cower in the Warrens as if they were a prison.”
                  The thunderous shout that rose from the assembly shook the walls of the chamber and echoed down the wide corridor. Zarfensis dropped from the platform and offered a hand to Xenir.
                  “Come, Lord Protector, there is much to put into motion.”

Chapter Five
     
    Tiadaria was laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling when someone knocked on her door. “Lady Tiadaria,” Harold called. “You have a gentleman caller.”
                  “Faxon,” she said to herself. “It’s about bloody time.”
                  Shifting off the bed, she strode to the door and threw it open. Wynn stood on the threshold. He had a large book tucked under one arm, almost hidden from view by the sleeve of his robe. He took a step backward at the sudden moment of the door and ran into Harold, who steadied the lad and disappeared down the hallway.
                  “Lady Tiadaria,” Wynn’s voice wavered and the tips of his ears were burning a bright enough red that they could have probably lit the deepest cavern on Solendrea. Tiadaria was perversely pleased by his discomfort. “I, um... I’m, er-- what I mean to say is that I’m not very good with people.”
                  “I hadn’t noticed,” Tiadaria replied at her driest. She motioned him in and closed the door behind him.
                  Seeing the work table seemed to ground the young quintessentialist. He went to the table and deposited the book he was carrying on the surface with reverent hands. Tia found herself wondering if he treated every book he touched with such awe and care. If so, she could understand why Faxon entrusted his research to this particular apprentice.
                  Wynn began flipping through the book, his fingers lightly grazing each page as he flipped through them. When he spoke again, the shakiness had left his voice.
                  “You said yesterday that Master Indra is looking for a relic that the Xarundi also seek, buried in snow and ice. I remember seeing an entry in this journal about an expedition to the Frozen Frontier to find a source of rare and powerful magic.”
                  “Ah, here it is; Alveron and his men left Ethergate two fortnights ago. They go to the far north in search of a relic of limitless power. I asked Alveron where he learned of the relic, but he wouldn’t share the information with me. I thought it was important that we know the source of the rumor, so I took matters into my own hands. I took his quartermaster to the inn and got him good and drunk. The quartermaster says that they bought the information from a Dyrseer in Overwatch. He said the Dyrseer’s great-grandfather saw the relic buried in the ice and brought the tale back with him at the end of the war.”
                  Wynn glanced up at her. “It continues on