Free Immortal by Glenn Beck

ahead,” Agios said to Caspar. “Wait until I know it’s safe.”
    He urged his mount forward, peering into the darkness. A deeper shadow moved toward him. “What do you have worth taking?” asked a harsh voice.
    â€œNothing,” Agios said. “And if you try to take anything, you’ll regret it.”
    He felt the press of a spear against his back. A second bandit, who had waited still and unseen in the darkness.
    â€œI think not,” the first said.
    Agios sighed and reached to his belt. “All I have are these,” he said, taking out a ball of wool.
    The first bandit came close enough to snatch it from his grasp. “Foolishness!”
    â€œIt’s what the wool is wrapped around that is valuable,” Agios said. He saw the man fumble with the wound skein. “I wouldn’t unwrap it,” he said, and averted his eyes.
    The flash of brilliant fire came, spooking the bandit’s horse and making the man shriek. Agios spun, grabbed the second robber’s spear, and yanked.
    The first man rolled on the ground, moaning, his robes smoldering with red writhing sparks. The second one tried to draw a sword—but Krampus had run up and grasped his arm.
    No other robbers appeared. The travelers caught up with them. Caspar saw to it that both men had been disarmed. The one who had been burned wept and said, “I’m blind!”
    â€œYour eyes may heal in time,” Caspar said. “You and your friend will have to walk for help. We’ll leave you enough water for one day.”
    â€œNot enough!” the man said, his voice jagged with fear.
    â€œI told you not to unwrap it,” Agios said. The scholars rode on, leading the robbers’ two horses, leaving the bandits behind in the dark. Miles later, at dawn, Caspar let the horses go. “Maybe they’ll find their way back to their riders,” he said. “I do not like to leave the men with no hope of living.”
    Agios began to doubt they themselves would survive the journey, but then one morning they came within sight of a green spot in the sand, an oasis where a spring bubbled into a round pool perhaps fifteen cubits across. Four goatherds had built a stone shelter there and stared in wonder as the five men and their animals staggered in from the desert.
    The men and animals drank. Agios had not realized how thirsty he had been. He swallowed and swallowed, and all at once his whole body began to sweat. Krampus drank even more deeply, his throat bobbing as he gulped.
    They bought goat’s flesh from the herdsmen and cooked it over a fire of dried dung. Agios was sure it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
    That night, Melchior seemed restless. Agios found him past midnight, a little way from their camp, on top of a stony outcrop. He stood gazing at the sky as though he could not tear himself away from the sight of the star.
    In the dry desert air it flared brighter than ever. “It is even more brilliant than the full moon,” Melchior murmured as Agios joined him. “Look, I can read by its light.” He held up a thin scroll and turned to let the star’s illumination fall on the parchment.
    In his own language, Melchior read aloud, “I shall see him, but not now: I shall behold him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Scepter shall rise out of Israel.” He translated.
    â€œStar of Jacob? I don’t understand,” Agios said. “Does it mean that star?”
    â€œPerhaps,” Melchior said softly. “These are the words of Balaam, a man of the old time. Some say he was a magician, others a prophet.” He sighed. “I’ve long searched for the star, through weary nights of standing on the tower platform there in the east and gazing to the west. A good way westward from my kingdom is the land of the Israelites. I think this must be the star I’ve waited for so long.”
    â€œYou are very