The Rock of Ivanore
Read The Rock of Ivanore Online
Authors: Laurisa White Reyes
Book One of The Celestine Chronicles
by
Laurisa White Reyes
Tanglewood ⢠Terre Haute, IN
Published by Tanglewood Publishing, Inc., May, 2012.
Text © Laurisa White Reyes 2012
All rights reserved. Neither this book nor any part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover art by Tristan Elwell & interior art by Kathleen Everts
Design by Amy Alick Perich
Tanglewood Publishing, Inc.
4400 Hulman Street
Terre Haute, IN 47803
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN-13 978-1-933718-72-9
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Reyes, Laurisa White.
The Rock of Ivanore / Laurisa White Reyes.
      p. cm.
Summary: The annual Great Quest announced by the wizard Zyll requires Marcus and other boys of the village who are coming of age to find the Rock of Ivanore without knowing what it is or where it can be found, but unless they develop new powers of magic and find strength to survive wild lands and fierce enemies, they will lose their honor and live menial lives of shame.
ISBN 978-1-933718-72-9
[1. Adventure and adventurers--Fiction. 2. Magic--Fiction. 3. Coming of age--Fiction. 4. Wizards--Fiction. 5. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.R3303Roc 2012
[Fic]--dc23
2011039335
For my son,
Marcum,
for whom this story was born.
Table of Contents
he old enchanter rose from his cot, his joints creaking like rusty hinges. His sleep had been troubled, and thoughts of the days ahead worried him. Taking care not to wake his apprentice, Zyll went to the table in the center of the room, though his legs were so stiff that even traveling the width of his cottage required the use of a walking stick. With his free hand, he took a copper bowl down from a shelf and set it on the table. He grinned at the fresh bucket of water on the hearth, grateful that the boy had remembered to fill it this time.
Zyll ladled water into the bowl and peered at his reflection in it. How changed he looked, how unlike the man he used to be. His hair, once thick and dark, had thinned and grown white, and the skin around his mouth
had creased. But his eyes still glowed with the vibrancy of youth. One thing, at least, had remained the same.
He laid his walking stick across the table and leaned closer to better view the image before him. The water darkened, and another face replaced Zyll's reflection, a younger man not altogether humanâa half-breed.
The image widened. Crouching in a dark corridor, the half-breed crept from shadow to shadow. Slipping past two sentries, he entered a small chapel. He hurried to the altar and released a hidden latch that opened a small door near its base. Zyll watched as the half-breed removed a scroll concealed within and hid it beneath his cloak.
Just then, the chapel door flew open with a tremendous shudder. There, framed in torchlight, stood a man with red hair accompanied by seven manlike beasts with hairy faces pocked with repulsive scars. The redheaded man charged angrily into the room, his sword slashing down in a wide, rapid arc. The half-breed hastily drew his sword just in time to deflect the blow and countered with his own. His blade tasted flesh, and the redheaded man collapsed to his knees, his hands grasping the side of his bloody face.
The half-breed spied a small object on the floor and managed to snatch it up before the beasts attacked. Though he fought them with inhuman strength, they soon drove him up against the wall.
Cornered and outnumbered, the half-breed turned to the window and gazed down. The image in the bowl shifted, and Zyll saw what the half-breed saw: angry ocean
waves beating against the rocks far below. Suddenly the waves rushed up toward him, and Zyll realized that the half-breed had leapt from the window. Zyll watched him fall, and as he fell, the half-breed twisted his body to look up at the sky. For one fleeting moment before he plunged into the sea, his inhuman cat eyes met Zyll's.
The enchanter's breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled back. When he looked in the bowl again, the image had vanished. Zyll dropped into a chair, resting his weary arms on the table. He glanced at the fair-haired boy who slept on, then choked out a whisper. “So it begins.”
he morning of Marcus Frye's fourteenth birthday may have seemed ordinary to some, but for him no day had ever dawned brighter. The birds' songs sounded sweeter. In the distance, Amethyst Peak looked more brilliant than ever before. Even Master Zyll appeared younger and more spry than usual.
From his cot in the corner of the cottage, Marcus watched the enchanter arrange a pile of wood on the hearth. Zyll inspected his work through a pair of spectacles and nodded with satisfaction. “You are awake,” he said, removing his spectacles and wiping them with the sleeve of his robe. “I was beginning to think someone had put a sleeping spell on you.”
Marcus arose and went to the table, where a steaming bowl of porridge waited. A clean tunic and trousers lay across the back of a chair.
“Why didn't you wake me to get the wood?” asked Marcus. “The morning air isn't good for you.”
“Nonsense,” replied Zyll, lowering himself into a chair beside the hearth. An old leather satchel lay in his lap. “Now sit and eat.”
Marcus dressed in the clean clothes and sat down. He picked at his breakfast, his stomach too much in knots for food. He preferred instead to watch Zyll mend the satchel, which looked as though it could not withstand one more day's wear. When he had finished, Zyll held the satchel by the shoulder strap and gave it a good hard shake. Its contents, which included a week's worth of bread and dried goat's meat, as well as a few coins and an iron pot, collided with a dull thud. Marcus winced at the thought of finding crumbs for his supper rather than bread.
“There it is now,” said Zyll.
Marcus eyed it disdainfully. “Master, the other boys have new satchels. Couldn't we buy one as well?”
“What for?” Zyll replied, handing Marcus the battered satchel. “This bag holds as much as a new one.” Then he rose with some effort from his chair to begin filling a kettle with vegetables.
Marcus hesitated making any further requests. He did not want to appear greedy, but this day was special, so he spoke before his courage could leave him. “Master, what about the other supplies?”