Read Online Iron and Blood by Auston Habershaw - Free Book Online Page B

rolled his eyes. “Hann save me.”
    Dohas put his ink brush away. “It is ready now.”
    Tyvian regarded his rune-­covered hand. “Ready for what, exactly?”
    â€œI will enact the spell. We will need space; it will hurt a great deal and I am uncertain exactly what will happen.”
    â€œYou’re really taking off the ring?” Artus asked, pulling himself out of bed.
    â€œYes,” Tyvian said, and looked at the Artificer. “Let’s go out on the terrace.”
    They walked through the flat, toward the open-­air terrace overlooking the length of Top Street to the south. It was snowing lightly, coating the oak planks in a thin layer of silver dust that seemed to glow in the dark. Tyvian opened the glass door and went outside, shivering against the cold. Dohas followed, as did Artus.
    Tyvian stuck out his hand, taking a deep breath and blowing it out in a cloud of condensation. “Let’s get this over with.”
    â€œBut if you take off the ring, won’t you be a bad person again?” Artus hugged himself against the winter air, the snowflakes resting lightly on his eyelashes.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous, Artus—­I’ll be the same person I’ve always been, just without something biting me every time I—­”
    â€œBut you would have killed me. You would have left me to Hool. You would have—­”
    Tyvian cut him off. “I also saved your life, remember? I picked you out of that burning spirit engine and saved your life . I saved your damned life last night , too! I didn’t have to do that, did I? Doesn’t that count for something? I’ve also fed you, dragged you along to Freegate, put up with your incessant questions, and—­”
    â€œYou threw me out!” Artus snarled, pushing Tyvian’s sore shoulder. The smuggler fell back a pace, wincing in pain. “You left me to rot on the streets again! If you didn’t have that ring, I bet you’d’ve let me die on your doorstep rather than shell out your precious money !”
    â€œDammit, Artus, I—­” The door to the terrace slammed behind the boy as he stormed inside. Tyvian’s mind raced. What if he left? What if Artus ran away, just when he most needed him?
    â€œThe spell must be done now, before the ink fades,” Dohas cautioned. The Artificer cast off his robes, revealing his wiry, taut body to the winter air. His skin was covered with tattoos, all drawn in flowing, arabesque patterns and glowing with power. Tyvian could feel the hair on his arms standing up—­the leathery Kalsaari monk was drawing in power through his tattoos even as they spoke.
    Tyvian pushed thoughts of Artus away—­this was more important. This first, then deal with Artus later. The ring throbbed dully against his finger, hurting him, no doubt, for not going to the boy. He sneered at it. “You’ve pinched your last, trinket.” He nodded to Dohas. “Do it.”
    The skinny monk drew himself to his full height and chanted in a reedy voice, increasing his volume gradually until he was shrieking at the top of his lungs. Then, just as Tyvian began to wonder what the neighbors might think about the noise, Dohas slammed both his hands atop Tyvian’s outstretched one.
    There was a rush of hot air and an ear-­splitting bang—­had the Artificer not been clutching Tyvian’s hand with both of his, he would have fallen over from the force of it. Then came the pain—­white hot, blinding. It fell upon Tyvian’s entire body at once, as though his bones were growing barbed thorns in unison. He screamed . . . and screamed and screamed. It seemed to last forever; his entire life flashing by in an instant. He saw the face of every person he had stolen from, conned, cheated, or killed. All of them cried out his name, each voice piercing him to the quick, burning his mind like hot needles thrust