Read Trials of the Hierophant: Vol. II of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy for Free Online Page B

mine! Our people need a true leader, one who can lead them to victory. My father is no longer that leader.”
    “What do you propose?”
    “Our people are frightened. They need someone to believe in. I shall be the father our people so desperately need.”
    “King Denorheim has already renounced, has he not?”
    “We have a fortnight to change his mind.”
    “And what if his decision is final?” Tristram gripped Madoc’s shoulder. “What did Senators Boraste and Valifor say?”
    He brushed his hand away. “We did not stay long enough to hear a rebuttal.”
    “This will not do, not at all.” Tristram wrung his wrinkled hands. “They want you on the throne.”
    “I know.” Madoc felt his chest tighten.
    “Do you have a plan to change the king’s mind? What if you cannot make him see your point of view?”
    Madoc’s voice cracked, and he blinked several times. “Then Boraste was right. I shall make the decision for him.”

Chapter V

    onnor watched as the gossamer sheets of misty rain moved over the forest. Waking in a cold sweat that morning because of the damp weather, he took comfort in the sun’s evening light as it broke through the pale storm clouds.
    He wondered what Ceridwen’s new position had taxed her within the time of his seclusion. Certainly, he knew, she could handle whatever faced her, but the possibilities piqued his curiosity. He looked forward to seeing her, to seeing anyone, upon taking his vows. The tradition to remain in contemplative seclusion with only the forest and the Deities as companions seemed mystical and spiritual at first, but it had grown to be a lesson in patience more than anything else.
    Orrin would come for him soon. Connor felt his face redden with embarrassment. He had heard nothing‌—‌nothing out of the ordinary, at least. He heard the wind through the trees and the songs of birds outside the hut. He heard the babbling of the stream. He heard the taps of raindrops on the roof when it stormed. He did not, however, hear Their voices.
    After such a time without hearing the sound of another voice, he welcomed the idea of leaving the sepulchral clearing. He did not enjoy the foreboding thoughts which haunted him. Alone with the sound of the wind whistling through the boughs of the trees, he thought, for only a moment when he looked up at the swaying leaves, he heard the whispers of the forest folk. Did his mind play tricks on him? Or was it too much to hope the forest itself granted him welcome?
    During his seclusion, it became customary for him to rise as the first light reached the window. Though he knew it could not be earlier than midday for the sun to break through the canopy, he looked upon the time as dawn. With such little light each day, he slept longer and longer in time. Though his instruction from Orrin did not include it, he heard rumors that to sleep for such long hours had been known to be frequent among initiates. Perhaps, he thought, it was through his dreams he was meant to make contact with the Gods.
    In his time in Arlais, he learned the single most important tenet they strived to uphold: all were one. That very bit of knowledge remained the truth at the center of the arcanum. To be part of Arlais was to hold true to this single grain of sand. Even those who followed the Maker held part of that truth within them, no matter how hidden within it might be. But to be a priest of Arlais was to know the greatest of the arcana, the Dieties, whatever the name, were from one universal divinity.
    He frowned as he looked at his dwelling. He could not remember how many days he had spent there. The sun rose and set, and it had all become a blur. He would be most glad to rid himself of that horrible cramped hut in the forest. Damp with the coming of the spring rains, his sleep never gave him more than a few hours rest. Though, he was soon to reside in the house of priests where he did not imagine sleep came any more willingly.
    He found it hard to believe he had