Free The Book of Deacon: Book 03 - The Battle of Verril by Joseph Lallo

innocent unless there was
no other choice.”
    “I . . . I don't want to be the sort of
person who to whom this sort of thing comes easily,” Myranda
muttered, tears in her eyes threatening to roll down her
cheeks.
    “Do not fool yourself,” Lain said.
    All eyes turned to him.
    “It never becomes easy. It takes tremendous
effort to bring yourself to take a life. The only change that comes
is a keener sense of when it has to be done. It makes the decision
a quicker one to make, not an easier one,” he instructed.
    Of all the heroes in attendance, Lain was the
one most experienced in the matter. He was, after all, an assassin.
From time to time Myranda had wondered what type of a man could do
such a thing. Did he have a heart at all? Did he feel any guilt,
any pain when he took a life? This was the first glimpse she'd been
given. As the words began to sink in, Ether stepped from the flames
and spoke. As usual it was anything but helpful.
    “Besides. The fact of the next death on your
hands is already established,” Ether said, assuming her human form
once more.
    Deacon, Myranda, and Ivy all turned their
heads and cast the same look of anger.
    “Ether, when are you going to learn that you
should never, ever talk?” Ivy asked irately.
    “Ignore it if you must, but any creature that
curls in Myranda's lap without bearing The Mark is doomed. The
lizard was first and now Deacon,” Ether tossed off casually.
    “Don't you dare wish death upon him!”
Myranda raged, rushing forward at Ether.
    Ivy found herself in the uncommon role of
trying to hold Myranda back.
    “Calm down. It is alright. You know she is
too stupid to know what she is saying,” Ivy said.
    Ether scoffed and made ready to retort when
Deacon spoke up.
    “Ether is probably right,” Deacon said.
    Ivy looked to him with confusion.
    “You know you don't have to agree with
everything she says,” Ivy huffed.
    “The prophesy never explicitly says that the
mortals who aid you will die, but the phrase 'tasks which no mortal
could survive' is not an uncommon one. Indeed, most interpretations
of the prophesy predict that even one of the Chosen will not
survive the journey. I harbor no illusions that I am anything more
than a mortal, and as such I must accept the very real possibility
of my own death,” he explained.
    “I won't let that happen. I don't care what
we face. I will not let you die!” Myranda declared.
    “This is . . . “ Ether began.
    “You shut your mouth before he agrees with
you again! And Deacon! Not another word! Everyone just be quiet for
a while!” Ivy ordered with authority.
    Ether crossed her arms and turned to
Lain.
    “Surely you agree with . . . “ she
attempted.
    “Silence,” he interjected.
    When Ether reluctantly complied, Ivy crossed
her arms and huffed again triumphantly. For once she was the one
reining in the emotions of others. Tensions were slow to ease, a
fact that Ivy decided needed work as well. She borrowed Deacon's
book and stylus and directed him to sit beside Myranda.
    “I want to show you what a good artist I am,
so help me out by putting a smile on. This will look much better if
the two of you are happy,” she said, carefully positioning them,
placing Deacon's arm across Myranda's shoulder.
    “I didn't know you were an artist, Ivy,”
Myranda remarked.
    “Oh, yes, an excellent one. You should see
what she . . . “ Deacon eagerly offered.
    “Shush. And look at me. This won't take long
and you two can take a look at what I can do when I'm not bopping
around on a horse's back,” Ivy said.
    After a few minutes, and number of minor
adjustments and instructions, Ivy was finished. The rendering was
astonishing, even ignoring the fact that it was done in virtually
no time. It had a tremendous amount of detail while still having a
definite style to it. This was a portrait intended to describe not
just what the pair looked like, but who they were, and it did a
remarkable job. She marked the portrait with her name