Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Magic clashed in a burst of purple lightning. The world shook.
The clawed hand squeezed the searing flame ball. It popped and went out.
Blood poured from Farhang’s nose and mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.
The torches bordering the yard flared with blue fire.
With a blood-curdling howl, Roro tore out of the front door, bounded across the yard, locked her jaws on Farhang’s side, heaved him like he weighed nothing, galloped back to the porch, and dragged him into the house.
Roman swung his cloak of darkness around him, pushed Finn through the door, and went in after him. The last thing he saw was the stunned look on Wayne’s face.
4
The problem with dramatic exits was that they cost a couple of seconds, so by the time he got back into the house, the nechist had managed to drag the unconscious priest down the hallway and toward her room.
Roman thrust Klyuv against the wall and stomped down the main hallway.
“Drop him!”
Roro shook her head, flinging a limp Farhang back and forth. The priest’s head smacked into the wall. Great, now he’d be concussed on top of befuddled.
Roman charged into the kitchen, flung the fridge open, grabbed the beef shank bone he’d saved for soup, and ran back to the main hallway. Roro was trying to drag Farhang through the utility room doorway, toward her lair.
“Trade!”
Roro sighted the shank bone. Her jaws fell open, and Farhang crashed to the floor.
“Roro?”
Roman tossed the bone at Roro. She leapt three feet up, snatching it from the air, and took off toward the utility room. The door swung closed behind her, moved by the draft. A massive hole gaped in the bottom. She’d chewed her way out.
Great. Now there would be no stopping her, and he’d have to replace the door.
Roman nodded at Finn. “Grab his legs.”
Together they picked up Farhang and carried him into the living room, in front of the fire.
“Kor!” Roman called.
The korgorusha materialized on Farhang’s chest, purring.
“Keep him napping,” Roman ordered.
Smoke curled from Kor’s black fur, swirling around Farhang. Korgorushas couldn’t knock you out, but if you were drowsy and fell asleep, they could keep you sleeping for a while.
Finn stared at Farhang. “Why did you save him?”
“He’s a Zoroastrian. Remember all that stuff I said about balance? Zoroastrians are the opposite of that. There is asha, the force of good and truth that comes from Ahura Mazda, and druj, the force of evil and falsehood that originates from Angra Mainyu, better known as Ahriman. The two are in constant battle, and every Zoroastrian is a soldier in that war. It is the sacred duty of the mobeds, the Zoroastrian priests, to eradicate evil in all its forms.”
Finn squinted at Farhang. “So he is a mobed?”
“No. That is a real live magav. Very rare. The Greeks call them the magi.”
“Like in the Bible?”
“Like in the Bible. He is a Magus. That’s where the word magic comes from.”
A weird cold was spreading through his thigh.
“Farhang isn’t just a priest, he is a warrior-mage, a holy knight devoted to the protection of good. No force in this world would ever make him attack a child. If he were in his right mind, he would’ve asked a lot of questions before starting any fireworks, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have let those assholes drag him around blindfolded. Something was done to him to make him like this…”
A spike of pain hammered through Roman’s thigh, biting into the bone.
Roman yanked at the leg of his sweatpants, exposing the ragged cut where the bolt had grazed him. The wound had turned a weird olive-brown.
“Fucking assholes.”
He spun around and marched to the utility room. Finn chased him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Poison.” He stabbed his finger at the flock of kolovershi trailing him. “Bring me that bolt.”
The kolovershi took off.
Roman tore into the room, flung a second fridge open, and rummaged through the gathering of glass vials on the shelves. No, no, yes, no…
He thrust a baggie with powdered herbs at Finn. “Hold this.”
The boy took it. Panic shivered in his eyes.
Roman pulled a jar of Remedy out, scooped out some, and smeared it on the cut.
One, two, three… Still cold and hurting. And now it was climbing up, toward his kidneys. For Nav’s sake…
He pushed vials aside, grabbed a green one, a blue one, and one with thick black goo, and shoved them all at Finn. The kid took them all with trembling fingers.
Roman slapped the fridge door shut and marched into the living room. The kolovershi pack swept into the room, and a bolt landed in his hand, still wet with his blood.
“Give me that bag.” His voice was ragged. Pain bit into his gut.
Finn held out the baggie. Roman took it, pulled it open, and shook a handful of herbs into his palm. His fingers cramped. He forced his hand to close and clamped the bolt in his hand, plastering the herbs onto the bloody metal.