Thinblade (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book One) by David A. Wells

Chapter 4

  Jataan P’Tal stood facing the obelisk not ten feet from the edge of the magic circle that surrounded it. He stood straight with his feet shoulder width apart and his hands clasped loosely behind his back. About a month ago, the surface of the obelisk had begun to swirl and flow as though it were alive.

  Since then, Jataan P’Tal, General Commander of the Reishi Protectorate, had posted a senior officer to greet Prince Phane when he emerged. It was his turn to stand watch. He believed that a good commander should be willing to do any duty he asked of his men.

  He was a soldier. He didn’t complain.

  The sun had set an hour ago and the clear sky was fading from a deep luminescent blue to sparkling black.

  Abruptly, the obelisk shot through with cracks and fissures running all across its surface. Jataan stiffened. The cracks glowed white, then the obelisk began to crumble. Starting slowly from the top, chunks of black stone broke away and crashed to the ground. They shattered into powder on impact, leaving little more than a dark stain where they fell. In a matter of seconds the entire obelisk was gone. Prince Phane Reishi stood in the center of a black stain on the ground surrounded by an ancient magic circle. For a moment, he was completely motionless.

  With a sudden gasping breath he became conscious, staggering slightly to keep his feet. At the very moment that he sucked in his first breath in two thousand years, the magic circle glowed brightly, increasing in intensity for a few seconds before it detonated with a wave of magical energy.

  Jataan was struck full in the face and thrown flat on his back from the impact. The magic circle was gone. The wave of magical energy spread out across the entire Seven Isles. Every living soul would feel it.

  The last Reishi Arch Mage was awake.

  Jataan shook off the shock and bounded to his feet. He took three purposeful strides toward Prince Phane, stopped abruptly, stood at attention and gave the traditional Reishi salute—fist to heart.

  Jataan P’Tal was a little man. He stood only five and a half feet tall and looked a little soft, even slightly portly. His hair was black and close-cropped. His complexion was swarthy. His eyes were black and he wore clothes to match. No weapon could be seen on his belt but he always had a knife somewhere.

  “I am Jataan P’Tal, General Commander of the Reishi Protectorate. I am at your service, Prince Phane.” Jataan spoke with complete calm assurance and punctuated his oath of service by going to a knee and bowing his head deeply. He waited.

  A moment passed. Prince Phane assessed the situation and grinned. “Rise, General Commander P’Tal.” Phane’s grin turned into a broad smile.

  Prince Phane stood just over six feet tall and had a perfectly proportioned build. His wavy brown hair reached to his shoulders. His face was strong and handsome and his smile was almost ridiculously charming. But his eyes did not smile. They were soft brown with glittering flecks of gold in the irises and they looked like eyes that had witnessed unspeakable atrocities … and liked it.

 
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