The Heart of the Phoenix Read Free Page A

stopped with his toes brushing the floor again. His head sagged, his chin resting against his breastbone, blood dribbling from his mouth and nose. He sagged, semi-conscious for a moment, then shook his head and lifted his gaze to the tattooed man. His dark goggles had slipped down the bridge of his nose. One of his lively dreadlocks tugged at the adjustable strap that held them in place, loosening it.
    “How did such a weak-bodied worm like this survive so long?” the tattooed man asked in heavily accented Dingo, an antiquated native dialect long ago appropriated from the southern region’s lawless nomad communities.
    “If you really want to know that, you nomad scab, come a little closer and I’ll tell you,” Erasmus whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
    The tattooed man’s face cramped with anger, flushing bright red, and for a moment Erasmus saw his hand dip back toward his wand. Then he mastered his emotions, favored the monk with a hard grin, and stepped forward. He stopped, nearly nose to nose with the suspended monk, and glared directly into the black circular lenses of Erasmus’s goggles.
    “Ya have something strong to say, island scum?”
    The animated dreadlock working unobtrusively on the strap holding the dark goggles in place gave a yank, and they fell free, exposing the monk’s wide black eyes.
    “Because I’m much smarter than you,” Erasmus said, and smiled so broadly that the corners of his mouth seemed to touch his ears.
    All expression left the tattooed man’s face, all tension fell from his body, and his pupils swelled as he stared into Erasmus’s exposed eyes. The force holding Erasmus broke, and he thumped unsteadily to his feet.
    The crowd of mercenaries and scum gathered behind the tattooed man regarded one another with confusion.
    Above them the scattered avians drew closer together to see what was holding up their show.
    “Don’t look into his eyes, you fool,” the Cardinal screamed above them, but too late.
    “Be a good fellow and help me out, will you,” Erasmus said.
    Without looking away, not even blinking, the tattooed man raised his wand and fired a volley into the group of fliers gathered above the shattered ceiling.
    The avians squawked and scattered into the sky. Two fell, landing just out of sight behind one of the adobe’s intact walls. The Cardinal cursed, then took panicked flight as the tattooed man fired a second volley at him.
    The foot soldiers attacked as one, rushing the tattooed man. They leapt at him, on him, trying to drag him down, disarm him, but they might as well have attacked a statue. He spun on the spot, wand firing and fist flying, and scattered them.
    Free from his magical bonds and the unwanted attention of a dozen or more unfriendly intruders, Erasmus decided the time had come for his exit. He bent low, scooped up his hat, and then dropped it again in favor of the tarnished old doorknob.
    “There you are!”
    He dropped to his knees in search of his wand, and settled on the old iPod when he couldn’t find it.
    He was rising again when he felt the point of a wand press into the small of his back, and heard the Cardinal’s voice behind him.
    “My orders were to bring you back alive,” the Cardinal said, “but I’ll take a scolding for the pleasure of seeing you dead.”
    Erasmus froze, doorknob in one hand, iPod in the other, and every dreadlock standing on end, as if raised in surrender.
    “I think alive is a pretty good idea myself.”
    “Don’t grovel, old friend.” A new and unexpected voice joined the conversation. A familiar voice, one Erasmus was mostly glad to hear. “It’s undignified.”
    The Cardinal gave a surprised squawk, and the wand tip pressing into Erasmus’s back vanished. There was a thump, a thud, and a drift of bright red feathers falling down before the monk’s wide, black eyes.
    “Ronan?” Erasmus spun to face the newcomer, and cheered at the sight.
    “Point those things somewhere else,” Ronan