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   Chapter 44 No.44

The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5279

Updated: 2018-01-19 12:03

The windward side of the tower bore no window, keeping the stiff breeze mercifully outside. As a result, the meager heat from the fire below, which ran up a column of chimney that marked the center of the tower, was quite enough to heat the room. There was an old bench, a table scattered with various mystical apparatus and books, and a trio of chairs, one of which was broken. The entire room was covered with a layer of dust. It was clear that no one had put this room to use in some time. There were shutters over the windows, though like everything else here, they were in various states of disrepair. The southern one did not even close tightly, instead knocking erratically in the breeze.

Myranda dropped her packs onto the bed, coughing at the plume of dust it stirred. She sat down on the bed's edge and wrestled the nearly worn-through boots from her feet. With only the use of her left arm, it proved to be quite a task, as cooking had been. She contemplated asking Wolloff to heal her shoulder immediately, but the thought of having to deal with him again bothered her more than the wound, the ever-present pain of which had come to be bearable simply through familiarity. In truth, with any luck, the temperament of Wolloff would lose its edge in the same way.

The tired traveler rubbed her feet. They'd not felt fresh air in a week. Her knees and hips were sore, as was her back from the packs she'd had to carry. All things considered, she had been through an ordeal, and she could tell it would take some time to recover. A smile came her face as she fell back o

h spell was further accompanied by lengthy descriptions of the effects, as well as recommendations of when they were to be used. Her untrained eye could make no sense of the spells themselves, but she eagerly read over the descriptions of the wondrous incantations. With each sentence she became more excited about the months to come. She would be able to produce such effects in time!

Just when she thought she was as thrilled as she could be, she came upon a page that seized her attention. It was labeled Celeste Spell of Cure Affliction. Celeste! In all of her travels, she had never encountered another person who shared her family name. That meant that this spell had been crafted by her own flesh and blood! Some forgotten ancestor or distant cousin. She read over the description, hungry for more information. Alas, nothing more was said of the author. However, the indication of the spell was identical to her shoulder's malady. It told of wounds twice as bad as hers healed fully in minutes, usefulness restored to limbs rendered immobile.

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