Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

man. Tendrils of shimmering red light wound from his hand in both directions, wrapping and weaving themselves around each other, like vines crawling up the side of a house. The light was so bright it was almost blinding, illuminating everything around them in a flash. As the tendrils of light weaved around each other, the form they left behind became solid. The handle and blade of a massive, double-sided axe formed in a glowing red light, the strength of which died down as it settled into its shape.

The man hefted the axe backwards and then swung it over Calen’s head with almighty force. It crashed straight into the chest of a leaping Urak, lifting the beast higher into the air. The entire blade disappeared into its flesh.The man shook the body of the Urak off the axe as if it were nothing but a splinter. Whirling around, he let go of the axe, launching it through the air and into the distance. Calen watched as it sliced straight through the head of a charging Urak and buried itself in a tree behind the collapsing body. Then it was gone, faded into the darkness faster than it had appeared.

More Uraks emerged from the forest, leaping over the bodies of their fallen companions. They snarled and roared, swinging their heavy axes and charred-black swords above their heads in a frenzy.

The man stepped past Calen, roaring ferociously in return. He raised both of his arms in the air, as if pushing something imaginary towards the incoming monstrosities. Thick vines erupted from the ground below them, weaving their way through the air much like the red light had done. Except these did not form a weapon; they were the weapon.

They shot through the air faster than Calen’s eyes could follow, growing thicker the farther they went. Five Uraks, five vines. Each vine found its target, piercing straight through the Uraks’ torsos. The vines kept moving until each of them was buried in the trunk of a different tree, leaving the lifeless bodies suspended in mid-air. Calen’s jaw hung open. He wanted to be terrified, but his head couldn’t process what was happening quickly enough. The bodies dropped to the ground as the vines retreated to the undergrowth.

When Calen’s thoughts came back, he felt the terror building like a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stuck out like the spines on a porcupine.

“It’s okay.” Erik knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder, staring straight into his eyes. Patches of dirt and mud covered his clothes. Thin streams of blood dripped from newly earned cuts on his face and arms, but he was alive. “Asius is a friend. He is who we are here to meet.”

Calen wanted to reply, but the words buried themselves in his throat. The man – or whatever he was – stared at Calen. He extended his hand, which had to be twice the size of Calen’s. “I am Asius, son of Thalm. I am pleased that our paths have crossed, though I apologise for the manner in which it had to happen.” Something that resembled a smile sat on his face. At least, Calen thought it was a smile. Without really intending to, Calen extended his hand in return. Asius wrapped his gargantuan fingers around Calen’s forearm and pulled him to his feet with unsettling ease.

“Th… Thank you, Asius, son of Thalm. I am Calen Bryer, son of Vars Bryer. I owe you my life,” Calen stammered, struggling to pull the words from his throat. He hadn’t noticed his heart was racing until that moment.

“You owe me nothing, little one. All that is given will be received, as sure as day begets night.”

Calen was not sure what Asius meant, but he nodded anyway. He heard the soft pad of horse hooves pressing into the moss that covered the forest floor. Aeson and Dahlen sat atop their horses, surveying the scene in front of them. Urak corpses were strewn about, Calen and Erik were bruised and a little bloody, and there was an eight-foot man with skin as pale as the thinnest paper and muscles as thick as the hardiest blacksmith. Dann and Rist sat behind them, worried looks on their faces as their eyes searched for Calen’s.

“You are all okay. I was worried for a minute there. It was near impossible to count their numbers. Asius, good to see you, old friend,” Aeson said. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of the giant man, who nodded in return, mimicking Aeson’s smile.

“It is good to see you also, Aeson Virandr. Far too many years have passed since our paths last crossed. I was excited to receive your message. Do you have it?”

“Yes, they have. Too many to count, old friend. Too many to count. And yes, I have it.” There was a pensive look in Aeson’s eyes as he stared off into the distance for a few moments, seeming lost in his thoughts. “Come,” he said, his eyes snapping back to the group as he finished swimming through his memories. “The camp must not be far if you are here, Asius.”

“No more than fifteen or twenty minutes from here. Senas and Larion await us there. There is a fire to warm you and food to fill your bellies. For certain you are both tired and hungry.”

It wasn’t until the mention of a fire that Calen’s body remembered just how cold the night was. A shiver spread through him, and he blew into his hands for warmth. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The look on Rist and Dann’s faces told him they were much the same.

“Erik, are you and Calen okay to walk? If you are hurt, then we can trade places on the horses.” There was a matter-of-fact tone in Aeson’s voice.

Erik looked at Calen, who nodded with a grunt. The fire burning at the base of his spine disagreed,