Read Infinity Blade 01- Awakening for Free Online Page A

thought.
    The creature promptly lowered its sword and raised something from within its coat—a slender, dangerous-looking crossbow.
    “Oh, hell ,” Siris said, flinging himself to the side. The creature fired, and had expert aim. The bolt drilled into Siris’s thigh, where the metal armor plates parted. He grunted. This was not how a proper duel was supposed to go.
    Siris came up, stumbling, and winced. He yanked the small bolt from his thigh, awkwardly holding his blade and trying to watch for the creature’s next attack. As he did so, he felt a deadening of his leg. Poison.
    Hell take me! He had no choice now; he took cover beside the throne dais, then engaged the ring.
    The healing effect was immediate. He felt a burning on his finger as the magic was expended, and a shock ran through his body. His skin grew clammy, as if he’d dunked himself into an icy pond in the winter.
    It lasted only an eyeblink, and when he came out of it, his pains were gone. However, in that eyeblink, his hair had grown all the way down to his shoulders, and he now had a beard where previously he’d had none. His fingernails had grown long.
    The healing rings sped up his body in a twisted way. Though they made him heal quickly—wounds scabbing over, then becoming scarred—they also made him age as long as it would have taken to heal wounds naturally. As near as he could figure, each use of the ring took about a half of a year off his life.
    He raised a hand to his newly grown beard as he glanced at himself in the polished marble of the throne’s dais. He hated healing. The more he did it, the more . . . alien his own features seemed.
    He peeked around the side of the large throne. The assassin was slinking along the side of the dais toward him, obviously expecting him to be succumbing to the poison. The creature yelped in a quite undaerilic way as Siris dashed out from behind the dais, running toward the side of the room.
    The assassin raised its crossbow again, but Siris was ready. He ducked low and jumped in a roll. He came up beside the table and grabbed his shield, turning and raising it.
    The enemy scuttled away, taking cover. Siris gritted his teeth. Every beast he had faced in the God King’s palace—even the most foul of daerils and most primitive of trolls—had followed the ancient dueling ideals. Obviously, he was facing a different kind of evil now.
    “So . . .” a feminine voice called from beside the pillar where the assassin had fled. “You’re not dead then, I see.” Her voice had a faint accent that Siris couldn’t place. She said her “eh” sound too long, like it was an “ee” instead, and she punctuated her syllables too much.
    Siris blinked in surprise, but didn’t reply. He moved across the room back toward the throne dais. It made for good cover.
    “This is very awkward,” the hidden assassin said, voice echoing in the room. “I’m going to flay that vendor alive; he promised the poison was a three-breather. You’ve taken considerably more than three breaths since I shot you.”
    Siris reached the base of the dais.
    “I don’t suppose you’re starting to feel tired?” the voice asked.
    “Afraid not,” Siris called back.
    “Weak? Dizzy? A little peckish?”
    Siris hesitated. “Peckish?”
    “Sure. You know, like something has pecked you? Isn’t that what the word means?”
    “It means hungry,” he said flatly.
    “Damn.” There was a sound coming from one of the back pillars, like the assassin was writing . Taking notes? “Your language is stupid, immortal.”
    “Wait,” Siris said. “Immortal?”
    “And might I add,” the voice continued, “that when people speak of awe-inspiring divine powers, spontaneously growing a beard doesn’t really come up. I expected lightning, thunder, earthquakes. Instead I got facial hair. I’m less than impressed.”
    Thunder . . . earthquakes . . . immortal?
    Siris almost laughed. She thought he was the God King!
    What else would she