The Final Life
Page 8
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Azrael chuckled quietly to himself as he shut the door behind him, leaving the two surprised brutes to their own bewildered devices in the study. The boy had learnt well, in some areas. He was still hopeless when it came to the sciences, history, or literature, but it seemed to Azrael that his student’s analytical abilities were passable, which made him not too poor with subtle pranks or trickery. However, the boy’s personality just wasn’t as suited to intrigue as his teacher’s was.
Azrael was impressed with his pupil, especially considering Alfjoetr’s reaction when he heard the word, “Evergreen.” Certainly, people with physical powers like his have stronger constitutions than most, and can neutralize many toxins naturally. But that still wouldn’t protect him from drinking large amounts of mage masher, a drink created by Ability users.
It was potent, thought the necromancer as he passed right through the brightly lit kitchen with its aromas, smiling to Hans, who was just then making the finishing touches to the meats and vegetables and appetizers he had prepared. Azrael stepped out into the cool outside, breathing fresh welcome air. He turned left and headed down into the cellar’s darkness.
The problem was, Glint wouldn’t be able to take it either. Few could, and one as young and weak as Glint was could die if he drank more than a glass of it. What more, the young warrior hadn’t looked as angered as Azrael needed for his plans. The necromancer grinned as his hands rested on a bottle emitting a bright yellowish green glow in the dark.
With some sleight of hand, there shouldn’t be any problems at all.