Read Online The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril by Joseph Lallo - Free Book Online
Authors: Joseph Lallo
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runes, or another crystal, or
even one of Demont's creations. It would appear from the notes he
has taken concerning their creation that . . . “
“Yes, yes. The beasts almost universally draw
their power from the crystals. I am quite familiar with his
creations,” Ether said, losing interest.
“But, the most disturbing thing about their
magic as opposed to ours is that our spells merely re-purpose
existing forces, eventually returning all magic from whence it
came. The D’karon spells actually consume it, convert the mana
completely into the effect, never to return again. Any spell upsets
the balance, however slightly. If such spells were rare, then time
could repair the damage, but if they are allowed to continue . . .
“ Deacon explained.
As Ether listened, her expression grew more
grave.
“And you are certain of this?” she asked.
“Most certain,” Deacon assured her.
Ether became visibly angered.
“There is no end to the abominations that
they unleash upon this world,” she hissed. “What more did you learn
from Demont's workshop. What more did you take?”
Deacon began to slowly but surely empty the
contents of his bag out for Ether to inspect. Most repulsed her,
but one item drew her attention. It was a case filled with vials.
The slender glass containers were tiny, and many. Each was labeled
with a word or two of the D'karon language. She opened the case and
removed a vial, opening it and looking over the liquid within.
“Blood,” she said. “Of a lion.”
Each vial was a small sample of the blood of
another creature, except for the case of some of the smaller
creatures, when the entire creature was stored in the vial. Ether
systematically sampled each. The usefulness of having a sample of
so many beasts could not be overstated, as each sample was another
form she could swiftly assume, another weapon in her arsenal. None
of the other things interested her. When contact had been made with
most of the samples, Ether returned them to the case and returned
the case to Deacon. When it was stowed he removed his book and
stylus and eagerly began to ask Ether questions regarding the
nature and extent of her powers. Perhaps out of the desire for more
of his endless praise for her, she indulged him, but her patience
for such things was short, and before long she ordered him to be
silent. Deacon thanked her and began to expand upon the notes he'd
taken on her answers. Perhaps an hour passed without a sound aside
from the hushed rustle of the northern night and the scratch of
Deacon's stylus.
“Deacon,” Lain said, breaking the
silence.
The young wizard's head snapped up
instantly.
“Yes,” he said, scrambling to his feet.
“Armories. Barracks. Have you identified
which marks might indicate them?” he asked. It would be more
important to avoid such places on their path south than mere
fortified buildings.
“Not with any certainty. I believe that I am
close to determining that. Might I ask why you wish to know?”
Deacon said, glancing over the words on the map once more.
“This. This is an armory. I have seen it,” he
said, pointing to one of the black marks.
“Ah . . . so this . . . and here. They have
the same marks. Perhaps armories as well. And . . . “ Deacon
began.
“I believe that troops are trained here,”
Lain said, indicating another fort.
For several minutes Deacon combined Lain's
observations with his own, and it became clearer and clearer what
each mark meant. Before too long, Ivy awoke and groggily approached
them. She'd been in the healing sleep for much of the last day and
could not sleep any longer.
“What are you doing?” she asked, curious as
to why the pair was hunched over a map.
“Well, the D'karon have a very strange
language. We are hoping to determine what the markings on this map
might . . . “ Deacon began to explain.
“Troop production. Troop production.
Research. Prisoner retention. Research. Prisoner retention . . . “
Ivy began to recite,
even one of Demont's creations. It would appear from the notes he
has taken concerning their creation that . . . “
“Yes, yes. The beasts almost universally draw
their power from the crystals. I am quite familiar with his
creations,” Ether said, losing interest.
“But, the most disturbing thing about their
magic as opposed to ours is that our spells merely re-purpose
existing forces, eventually returning all magic from whence it
came. The D’karon spells actually consume it, convert the mana
completely into the effect, never to return again. Any spell upsets
the balance, however slightly. If such spells were rare, then time
could repair the damage, but if they are allowed to continue . . .
“ Deacon explained.
As Ether listened, her expression grew more
grave.
“And you are certain of this?” she asked.
“Most certain,” Deacon assured her.
Ether became visibly angered.
“There is no end to the abominations that
they unleash upon this world,” she hissed. “What more did you learn
from Demont's workshop. What more did you take?”
Deacon began to slowly but surely empty the
contents of his bag out for Ether to inspect. Most repulsed her,
but one item drew her attention. It was a case filled with vials.
The slender glass containers were tiny, and many. Each was labeled
with a word or two of the D'karon language. She opened the case and
removed a vial, opening it and looking over the liquid within.
“Blood,” she said. “Of a lion.”
Each vial was a small sample of the blood of
another creature, except for the case of some of the smaller
creatures, when the entire creature was stored in the vial. Ether
systematically sampled each. The usefulness of having a sample of
so many beasts could not be overstated, as each sample was another
form she could swiftly assume, another weapon in her arsenal. None
of the other things interested her. When contact had been made with
most of the samples, Ether returned them to the case and returned
the case to Deacon. When it was stowed he removed his book and
stylus and eagerly began to ask Ether questions regarding the
nature and extent of her powers. Perhaps out of the desire for more
of his endless praise for her, she indulged him, but her patience
for such things was short, and before long she ordered him to be
silent. Deacon thanked her and began to expand upon the notes he'd
taken on her answers. Perhaps an hour passed without a sound aside
from the hushed rustle of the northern night and the scratch of
Deacon's stylus.
“Deacon,” Lain said, breaking the
silence.
The young wizard's head snapped up
instantly.
“Yes,” he said, scrambling to his feet.
“Armories. Barracks. Have you identified
which marks might indicate them?” he asked. It would be more
important to avoid such places on their path south than mere
fortified buildings.
“Not with any certainty. I believe that I am
close to determining that. Might I ask why you wish to know?”
Deacon said, glancing over the words on the map once more.
“This. This is an armory. I have seen it,” he
said, pointing to one of the black marks.
“Ah . . . so this . . . and here. They have
the same marks. Perhaps armories as well. And . . . “ Deacon
began.
“I believe that troops are trained here,”
Lain said, indicating another fort.
For several minutes Deacon combined Lain's
observations with his own, and it became clearer and clearer what
each mark meant. Before too long, Ivy awoke and groggily approached
them. She'd been in the healing sleep for much of the last day and
could not sleep any longer.
“What are you doing?” she asked, curious as
to why the pair was hunched over a map.
“Well, the D'karon have a very strange
language. We are hoping to determine what the markings on this map
might . . . “ Deacon began to explain.
“Troop production. Troop production.
Research. Prisoner retention. Research. Prisoner retention . . . “
Ivy began to recite,
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