Read The Key to Creation for Free Online

received varied receptions from the sikaras; if not tolerant, at least they had not called for his death or imprisonment. Not yet. This one, though, looked very angry.
    The woman’s arrival gave the official all the impetus he needed, and he ordered the guards to grab Ciarlo. When he clung to his two books, the mayor yanked the volumes out of his hands. Squinting down at the pages, the mayor saw Tierran writing and looked as if he had swallowed a large insect. “What is this?”
    “The Book of Aiden,” Ciarlo said proudly. “I can read it to you. I will teach you, and all of your people.”
    The mayor threw the books to the dirt. “Gag him and bind his arms. Make him watch while we burn this blasphemy.”
    At first Ciarlo did not resist, but when the official tore pages from the books to make a pile for burning, he struggled to break free. A rag stuffed into his mouth by one of the guards prevented him from crying out. Without being asked, a lampmaker doused the torn pages with scented oil and set them ablaze. Ciarlo felt great sadness to see the Book of Aiden perish, but far more grievous was the loss of the unique Tales of the Traveler, each sentence in Aiden’s own handwriting. Those stories were irreplaceable.
    In only moments, the fire consumed the paper. Curls of ash drifted along the streets like funeral veils.
    Ciarlo’s shoulders sagged. He wanted to weep, but he was not weak, and he would not give up. He tried to convince himself this was merely another trial that Aiden had given him. The roads, and his beliefs, had brought him to this place, and he was here for a reason.
    “Throw him down a well!” a shrill woman yelled.
    “Why not stone him right here?”
    “Or chain him out in the sun until he repents and accepts the word of Urec.”
    The sikara offered a hard smile. “I could instruct him. We have many implements to assist us.”
    Ciarlo struggled, more frightened by the thought of indoctrination than torture.
    “No.” The official turned to his guards with a flourish of one hand toward the sea. “The Moray came to port last night.”
    Some of the townspeople chuckled; quite a few seemed disappointed. The guards dragged Ciarlo along the street toward the docks. He tried to speak of Aiden on the way, but the gag muffled his words.
    They approached a long galley tied up to the longest dock. Its silken sails were furled. Striding out onto the pier, the mayor whistled toward the ship. “Captain Belluc, are you still in the market for workers? You go through men quickly.”
    A bronzed man with a single earring came out on deck to greet them. He sized up Ciarlo. “I can always use new men at the oars.”
    “And you always pay gold.” The mayor smiled. “Part of which goes to the church, of course.” He extended his hand, and Belluc placed shining yellow coins in his palm. “This one’s an Aidenist, so you won’t need to pamper him.”
    “I don’t pamper my men, Aidenist or not.”
    Through the galley’s open hatch, Ciarlo could make out a dark, stuffy hold filled with long benches and shackles at the ends of long oars. When the guards finally took the gag from his mouth, he spluttered, “I came here to preach.”
    The bald captain raised his eyebrows and laughed. “You’ll be too busy rowing to preach.” He called to two other sailors aboard the galley. “Take him below and put him in chains with the others.”

Corag Mountains

    The rocky Gremurr coastline was no place to keep a herd of shaggy beasts that required tons of food each day. After defeating the Urecari at the mines, the battle mammoths were restless, unruly, and dangerous. Destrar Broeck dispatched his nephew Iaros to guide the big creatures back home to the high cold steppes.
    Mateo joined him on the trek, along with two hundred freed Aidenist prisoners who desperately wanted to go home. Other Tierran captives were too weak to make the long journey, having been driven to exhaustion by their bloodthirsty Uraban workmasters,