Read A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) for Free Online Page B

herself lifted into the arms of a knight,
his metal armor against her back. He picked her up effortlessly, as if she were
a feather, and carried her, as the knights carried all the others. Gwen saw they
were walking across a wide, flat stone landing atop the mountain ridge,
spanning perhaps a hundred yards wide. They walked and walked, and she felt at
ease in the arms of this knight, more at ease than she had in a long time. She
wanted more than anything to say thank you, but she was too exhausted to even
open her mouth.
    They reached the other side of the parapets and
as the knights prepared to place them on a new platform and lower them down the
other side of the ridge, Gwen looked out and caught a glimpse of where they
were going. It was a sight she would never, ever forget, a sight that took her
breath away. The mountain ridge, rising out of the desert like a sphinx, was,
she saw, shaped in a huge circle, so wide it disappeared from view in the midst
of the clouds. It was a protective wall, she realized, and on its other side, down
below, Gwen saw a glistening blue lake as wide as an ocean, sparkly in the
desert suns. The richness of the blue, the sight of all that water, took her
breath away.
    And beyond that, on the horizon, she saw a vast
land, a land so vast she could not see where it ended, and to her shock, it was
a fertile, fertile green, a green glowing with life. As far as she could see
there stretched farms and fruit trees and forests and vineyards and orchards in
abundance, a land overflowing with life. It was the most idyllic and beautiful sight
she had ever seen.
    “Welcome, my lady,” their leader said, “to the land
beyond the ridge.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    Godfrey, curled up in a ball, was awakened by a
steady, persistent moaning interfering with his dreams. He woke slowly, unsure
if he was really awake or still stuck in his endless nightmare. He blinked in
the dim light, trying to shake off his dream. He had dreamt of himself as a
puppet on a string, dangling over the walls of Volusia, being held by the Finians,
who’d yanked the strings up and down, moving Godfrey’s arms and legs as he
dangled over the entrance to the city. Godfrey had been made to watch as below
him thousands of his countrymen were butchered before his eyes, the streets of
Volusia running red with blood. Each time he thought it was over, the Finian
yanked on his strings again, pulling him up and down, over and over and over….
    Finally, mercifully, Godfrey was awakened by
this moaning, and he rolled over, his head splitting, to see it was coming from
a few feet away, from Akorth and Fulton, the two of them curled up on the floor
beside him, each moaning, covered in black and blue marks. Nearby were Merek
and Ario, sprawled out unmoving on the stone floor, too—which Godfrey
immediately recognized as the floor of a prison cell. All looked badly beaten—yet
at least they were all here, and from what Godfrey could tell, they were all
breathing.
    Godfrey was once at once relieved and
distraught. He was amazed to be alive, after the ambush he’d witnessed, amazed
he had not been slaughtered by the Finians back there. Yet at the same time, he
felt hollow, oppressed by guilt, knowing it was all his fault that Darius and
the others had fallen into the trap inside the gates of Volusia. It was all because
of his naïveté. How could he have been so stupid as to trust the Finians?
    Godfrey closed his eyes and shook his head,
willing for the memory to go away, for the night to have gone differently. He had
led Darius and the others into the city unwittingly, like lambs to slaughter. Again
and again in his mind he heard the screams of those men, trying to fight for
their lives, trying to escape, echoing in his brain and leaving him no peace.
    Godfrey clutched his ears and tried to make it
go away, and trying to drown out Akorth and Fulton’s moaning, both of them
clearly in pain from all their bruises and from a night sleeping on a