Game of Truth: The Athronian Chronicles, Book 1 [Paperback]

Book 1: Game of Truth The power hungry High Overseers want to banish the Overseer of Knowledge, Dorian Riverson. Queen Ketric of Onbersan wants to turn the peaceful village of Baniston into a major destination on a pilgrimage route. Both Dorian and Baniston hold secrets that force them into playing games of truth to protect themselves and their special worlds.

"We will make camp here," Devor announced.

Terre nodded. "There is a cave over there. The adventurers use it." He turned back to fetch the packhorse that was contentedly burrowing into the icy grass to find warm blades underneath.

The cave had a low overhang that shielded the wind so completely that the relief from the relentless pounding of air was startling. Terre knelt before one of the walls and carefully pulled out a large stone revealing a depression that had been hollowed by man rather than nature. The Lugarian gave a small sigh of relief that the light colored stones that were definitely not indigenous to these mountains were still there. Devor squinted in the gray light. The stones looked like replicas of the glowstones used by the Overseers. They were maybe a hand-length high and two thirds of that in thickness. Long lengthwise lines were etched into them, and a block script ran across the tops and bottoms.

Terre followed the wall of the cavern, placing a stone in head high niches every several paces. It could have been Devor's imagination, but the cavern appeared to brighten as Terre continued his task. The Researcher, knowing that glowstones existed only in legend, was sure it was just his eyes adjusting to the weak natural lighting. The cave was much larger and deeper than Devor's first impression of it, reaching far into Windfound Mount.

A sharp gasp came from Terre as he turned after placing another stone at the farthest end of the cavern. The Lugarian stiffened and backed across the middle of the floor toward the entrance of the cave.

"What...?" Devor's question was silenced by a frantic wave of a hand from Terre, who did not remove his eyes from the pounded dirt floor. Devor stepped forward next to the terrified Lugarian.

A figure wrapped in blankets was sprawled out with its back to them. Before either man moved or even thought of what to do next, the figure rolled over and cast a calm gray gaze on them. He sat up and stretched as if this was the most normal situation in the world.

"Visitors," he cried amiably. "How nice." The slender-built man, about the same height as Devor and clad in black leather, nimbly climbed to his feet and grinned at them. His skin was a fair contrast to his dark clothing and straight black hair hanging around his ears and in bangs almost into his sharp gray eyes. The overall effect gave an impression of youth but there was nothing youthful in the glint of those eyes or the mature tone of his voice.

Instead of being reassured by the unthreatening nature of the man, Terre's eyes widened and he dropped the remaining glowstones.

"Careful with those," the black-clad man teased. "I might not be able to filch any more for you."

Terre trembled even harder, if that was possible, and fell to his knees. "Please," he stammered. "Please find forgiveness for me."

The young man was taken aback by this demonstration. "He seems to have the wrong idea about me." His eyes held a strange mix of concern and amusement. "Get up. What are you doing? You'd think I was my cousin or something." At that, Terre's groveling disintegrated into tears, and he ground his forehead into the compacted dirt. Realizing his mistake, the young man dropped to his knees in front of the wretched Lugarian. "I didn't mean to scare you. Please get up. You're embarrassing me."

Terre raised his head, realizing that the stranger was on the ground in front of him. He sniffed back tears and pulled himself together enough to sit up.

"I'm sorry," he said, still shaken. "It's just such a shock."