Read Online Blood of Mystery by Mark Anthony - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Anthony
Tags: Fiction
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unnoticed, and the low shoes Lirith and Sareth wore weren’t so far off from moccasins. The handkerchief Travis had used to mop his head had been a last-minute luxury. He wasn’t certain why he had gotten it; he just seemed to remember something about how you weren’t supposed to run off on an adventure without one.
“I also got this,” Travis said, pulling out a small purple bottle. “They didn’t have any aspirin.”
Lirith frowned at the bottle. “Aspirin?”
“Don’t worry about it—I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been invented yet. But I think this is almost the same thing.”
The small label glued to the bottle read
salicylate of soda
. Lirith took the bottle, unstopped it, and held it beneath her nose. She raised an eyebrow and looked up.
“It smells like tincture of willow bark.”
Travis nodded. “It should help Sareth’s head.”
Soon they had a fire going, and the kettle of creek water hung from an iron hook over the flames. However, Travis was a bit disappointed the others didn’t seem to regard the matches as magical in nature.
“I see,” Durge said, studying one of the matches. “It’s an alchemical reaction. The sulfur acts as a catalyst for the fuel, and fire results.”
“They do seem handier than flint and tinder,” Lirith said, adding a stick to the fire, and Sareth nodded in agreement.
Travis groaned. “You’re all boring. Matches are totally cool! When I was a kid, I liked seeing how far I could flick them while they were burning.”
Durge gently but insistently took the box of matches away from Travis.
Full night found them, if not exactly comfortable, at least far less miserable than they had been the night before. Their new clothes were stiff and chafed at the seams, but were warmer than the garb of the Mournish, intended for southern climes. The fire gave off cheering light, and somehow Lirith made the sardines and crackers look appealing, although getting the tin cans open hadn’t been easy at first. It was only when Durge unsheathed his greatsword and pointed it at one of the cans that Travis remembered his Malachorian stiletto. He pulled it from the small bag of things he had managed to hang on to in the Etherion, and the blade cut through the lid of the can like butter.
All of them drank water once it cooled, and Lirith made a tea with several drops of the salicylate of soda. This seemed to ease the pain in Sareth’s head. Not in immediate fear of survival, their minds turned to other, no less pressing, worries.
“So how are we going to get back to Eldh?” Lirith said. The witch’s dark eyes gleamed in the firelight.
“I have a better question,
beshala
,” Sareth said. His color had gotten better, and he sat up straight. “
When
are we going to get back to Eldh?”
The day before, after much struggling, Travis had managed to explain to the others that, while this was his world, it wasn’t his world as he had known it. The date in the
Castle City
Clarion
had read June 13, 1883. They knew the demon had altered the flow of time in Tarras. Somehow its lingering influence had also affected the gate artifact when they tried to escape the Etherion, and as a result they had traveled over a hundred years into Earth’s past.
“Can the gate artifact not help us?” Durge said. “It was able to transport us to a time long ago. Logic dictates it must also be able to take us to a time yet to be. And there remains one drop of blood in the Scarab of Orú.”
“I’m not sure logic applies this time, Durge.” Travis reached into the sack and pulled out the gate artifact. He set it on the dirt floor, and a tiny, gold shape crept to the top of the obsidian pyramid, reaching out one of its eight slender legs to stroke Travis’s hand.
As always, Travis was entranced by the scarab. It looked like a real spider, except that it was fashioned of gold, and on its abdomen glittered a teardrop-shaped ruby. It seemed truly alive, but what would happen when they used the
“I also got this,” Travis said, pulling out a small purple bottle. “They didn’t have any aspirin.”
Lirith frowned at the bottle. “Aspirin?”
“Don’t worry about it—I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been invented yet. But I think this is almost the same thing.”
The small label glued to the bottle read
salicylate of soda
. Lirith took the bottle, unstopped it, and held it beneath her nose. She raised an eyebrow and looked up.
“It smells like tincture of willow bark.”
Travis nodded. “It should help Sareth’s head.”
Soon they had a fire going, and the kettle of creek water hung from an iron hook over the flames. However, Travis was a bit disappointed the others didn’t seem to regard the matches as magical in nature.
“I see,” Durge said, studying one of the matches. “It’s an alchemical reaction. The sulfur acts as a catalyst for the fuel, and fire results.”
“They do seem handier than flint and tinder,” Lirith said, adding a stick to the fire, and Sareth nodded in agreement.
Travis groaned. “You’re all boring. Matches are totally cool! When I was a kid, I liked seeing how far I could flick them while they were burning.”
Durge gently but insistently took the box of matches away from Travis.
Full night found them, if not exactly comfortable, at least far less miserable than they had been the night before. Their new clothes were stiff and chafed at the seams, but were warmer than the garb of the Mournish, intended for southern climes. The fire gave off cheering light, and somehow Lirith made the sardines and crackers look appealing, although getting the tin cans open hadn’t been easy at first. It was only when Durge unsheathed his greatsword and pointed it at one of the cans that Travis remembered his Malachorian stiletto. He pulled it from the small bag of things he had managed to hang on to in the Etherion, and the blade cut through the lid of the can like butter.
All of them drank water once it cooled, and Lirith made a tea with several drops of the salicylate of soda. This seemed to ease the pain in Sareth’s head. Not in immediate fear of survival, their minds turned to other, no less pressing, worries.
“So how are we going to get back to Eldh?” Lirith said. The witch’s dark eyes gleamed in the firelight.
“I have a better question,
beshala
,” Sareth said. His color had gotten better, and he sat up straight. “
When
are we going to get back to Eldh?”
The day before, after much struggling, Travis had managed to explain to the others that, while this was his world, it wasn’t his world as he had known it. The date in the
Castle City
Clarion
had read June 13, 1883. They knew the demon had altered the flow of time in Tarras. Somehow its lingering influence had also affected the gate artifact when they tried to escape the Etherion, and as a result they had traveled over a hundred years into Earth’s past.
“Can the gate artifact not help us?” Durge said. “It was able to transport us to a time long ago. Logic dictates it must also be able to take us to a time yet to be. And there remains one drop of blood in the Scarab of Orú.”
“I’m not sure logic applies this time, Durge.” Travis reached into the sack and pulled out the gate artifact. He set it on the dirt floor, and a tiny, gold shape crept to the top of the obsidian pyramid, reaching out one of its eight slender legs to stroke Travis’s hand.
As always, Travis was entranced by the scarab. It looked like a real spider, except that it was fashioned of gold, and on its abdomen glittered a teardrop-shaped ruby. It seemed truly alive, but what would happen when they used the
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