Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) Read Online Free PDF Page A

picked up the golden bowstring from the bed beside him and held it to the serrated blade on the dagger. Qyxal winced and Justan’s jaw dropped in horror as, with a twang, there was a flash of magic. The bowstring was cut in two.
     
    The blood drained from Justan’s face as he saw the precious gift destroyed. The dragon hair string turned any arrow it propelled into a missile of explosive power.
     
    Qyxal stormed over to the cocky cadet. “Do you have any idea what you have just done? You have destroyed a priceless artifact!”
     
    Piledon blinked at the two halves of the bowstring in his hand. “Really? Gee I’m sorry. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.” He tied the two pieces together in a small knot. “Will this work?”
     
    Justan walked towards the man with such rage that Qyxal was afraid that he would kill him. Piledon just sat with an innocent expression on his face.
     
    “No good, huh? Wait, maybe this will work.” The cadet stuffed the knotted ends of the bow string into his mouth and began to chew.
     
    Justan's face was a mask of pure fury. With one smooth motion, he picked up one of his swords and pressed the tip against the man’s neck. Piledon eyes went wide.
     
    “Wait, wait!” The cadet pulled the string out of his mouth and stretched it. The knot disappeared and the bowstring was whole. “See, it’s fine. I really didn’t cut it. It was just a joke. I was practicing an illusion, honest.”
     
    With the tip of his sword still pressed to the man’s throat, Justan took the slightly damp bowstring and switched to his mage sight. To his relief, the bowstring’s magical glow was intact. He looked back to his roommate.
     
    “I don’t know you. But just in case it isn't obvious yet, let me make this clear. I did not find this funny. Where I come from, touching another man’s weapon without permission is a death sentence. Do you understand me?” Piledon nodded carefully, leaning back to avoid being cut by the tip of Justan's sword.
     
    “Very well, then.” Justan said. “When I come back to this room tonight, I will expect all of my belongings to be packed back where you found them. If I ever see you touch one of my things again, I will kill you.”
     
    Justan sheathed his swords and placed them into the closet. He then tucked the golden string into one of the pockets in his robes, belted on his dagger, and restrung his bow with a normal string. With a start, he suddenly realized that there was something very important missing. He searched around and was relieved when he found the pouch containing the Scralag’s book under the bed. It was unopened. He didn’t dare leave it in the room, so he tucked it into a pocket in his robes for safekeeping. They left the room with Justan’s bow slung over his shoulder.
     
    Qyxal laughed as they walked out of the building. “You scared him pretty bad, but don’t think this is over. I told you when you first got here that this guy has a reputation of being quite the prankster.”
     
    “You forget that I spent four years in Training School. I know all of the pranks.” Justan smiled a wicked grin. “Believe me. If he wants to continue this battle, he will be sorry.”
     
    They hurried across the grounds towards a long rectangular building with no windows. As they were about to enter, Qyxal looked at Justan.
     
    “At the Battle Academy , can you really kill a man if he touches your weapon?”
     
    “No,” Justan replied. “But if that man does anything like that again, I’m changing the rules.”
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Justan and Qyxal entered a long hallway lined with heavy iron doors on either side. There were no windows, but glowing orbs spaced evenly along the ceiling provided light and each door was labeled with a number. Justan could hear a series of odd sounds echoing down the hall.
     
    A muffled explosion came from within the door closest to them, making Justan jump. His eyes