Curse of the Forbidden Book (Amarias Series). Amy Lynn Green

      Chapter 1

      No one would call Demetri a coward, unless they enjoyed the pain he would inflict for such an insult. Back home in District Four, where he was a captain in the king’s Patrol, he was famous for his bold capture of all outlaws and bandits who dared come within a half-day’s journey of Nalatid. Though young, he had survived several battles, defeated fierce beasts of the desert, and killed many men.

      Still, as he followed the court messenger through the outer parlor into the chamber of the governor’s adviser, he fought to keep his hands from shaking.

      It was not the reputation of the man that frightened Demetri, though he had heard that Chancellor Doran, chief advisor in District Two, was a brutal, vicious man. It was not the dark, foreboding room that he stepped into. It was not even the fact that the guards at the palace gate had confiscated his weapon, leaving him without so much as a dagger at his side.

      It was the smell.

      Somewhere in the chamber, incense was burning, a kind that Demetri had smelled only once before. The odor of pure evil. No, do not think of it, he told himself, trying to slow his rapid breathing.

      For the hundredth time in the past five years, he wished the memories, ones that haunted him more than any ghost, would go away. He wished he could forget.

      He clutched at the medallion around his neck, the one given to Guard Riders. It made him feel better, somehow, as if the smell of the incense had been smothered just a bit. Or perhaps I have become accustomed to it.

      “Ah, the young Patrol captain,” a voice from the dark said. Demetri stepped forward, squinting. He could barely make out the outline of a man in flowing robes, kneeling on the far side of the room. Chancellor Doran.

      “Please pardon the darkness,” the chancellor continued, standing. “I have just finished my evening worship.” He picked up a candle that burned near the stick of incense and lit a trough of oil on one side of the room. The chamber filled with flickering light.

      Slowly, regally, Chancellor Doran crossed to the other side and did the same. Normally, Demetri knew, a servant would perform such menial tasks, but Demetri had insisted that this meeting be in private.

      “I have a message concerning the Youth Guard,” Demetri said, bowing stiffly and trying to keep his voice level.

      “Yes,” Chancellor Doran said, nodding. “Aleric mentioned that he had commissioned a new Guard Rider.”

      It was a title Demetri was not proud to bear. Guard Riders, the most elite of the king’s forces, shared a common goal: destroy the young men and women who joined the Youth Guard. Demetri had joined their ranks against his will.

      Chancellor Doran sat on a gilded chair on a dais at the back of the chamber. “Tell me everything.”

      So Demetri did, starting with his chase of the three Youth Guard members through the desert, where they had evaded his capture. Demetri had then tracked them to the Deep Mines in District Two, where a cave-in had killed them.

      “And you are sure that they are dead,” Chancellor Doran had interrupted at this point in the story. His eyes, nearly slits, made it look like the story had bored him to sleep, but Demetri could tell from his sharp tone that he had heard every word.

      “Yes,” Demetri said. “We guarded the entrance for three days and saw no sign of life.”

      “That is not what I asked.”

      “Sir?”

      Chancellor Doran stood and began to pace. “I mean, Captain Demetri, that many of the Youth Guard through the years have escaped our grasp through carelessness. We have killed hundreds, of course, but some are unaccounted for. The Guard Riders assigned to them lost sight of them in a hurricane, saw them buried in an avalanche, and at times, even left them to face a beast or enemy, assuming they would die. But sometimes they live, Captain.”

      Demetri frowned. “Aleric said they were dead. He said he could no longer call up visions of them.”

      “Aleric is a fool,” Chancellor Doran said, his lip curling in contempt.

      Demetri said nothing. He could not imagine anyone speaking of the powerful Chief Rider in that way.

      “He does not understand. There are other ways for the Youth Guard to be shielded from his vision besides death.” Now Chancellor Doran looked straight at him, and for a moment, Demetri thought his eyes were glowing in the near darkness. “Are they dead, Captain?”

      Demetri felt like a stuttering fool. It’s the incense. Ever since he had entered the room, his mind had seemed to move more slowly. “Sir?”

      “Did you find their corpses, check for breathing or a heartbeat?”

      All Demetri could do was shake his head.

      “Then we do not know for certain,” Chancellor Doran said. He stared straight at Demetri, and Demetri felt the sudden urge to find a place to hide. Then a thin smile curled on his lips. “I will record what we know. They are likely dead. You seem to be a thorough man, Captain.”

      “Thank you,” Demetri said. All he wanted to do was run out of the chamber, away from the darkness and the oppressive smell of the incense. Then he thought of something. “This book that I have heard of—is it real?”

      Chancellor Doran laughed. “Many things that appear to be legend actually exist, Captain. If you speak of the Forbidden Book, then the answer is yes.”

      The Forbidden Book—a fitting name.

      “Then you will record what I told you?” Demetri asked, hoping the chancellor would dismiss him.

      Chancellor Doran nodded. “I will record it with my own hand. We received a report that one of my scribes had become a traitor to the cause, joined the Rebellion. I killed

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