Read Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I for Free Online Page B

senses. He jumped away from imagined things, made real all
about him, however, the barrage of visions came too fast. None ever exacted a
deep enough horror from him. They were locked in a desperate bid to overwhelm,
which nearly succeeded.
    “You’re not He,” Kosta said between gasps, recovering
his self-control. “What would Satan be doing in Mystra? You don’t lie well
enough, and boast far too easily.”
    He continued to deride the evil spirit. All the
while, he was tracing shapes into the night, which began to glow in the
gathering dark. The spirit bared his teeth and lunged forward unsuccessfully.
Something held him to the ground. The shapes, which Kosta had woven, dropped at
his feet, clung about him and rooted him to the ground.
    “What have you done with Plethon?” Kosta asked.
    “He’s safe,” the imp answered defiantly.
    “That’s not what I asked.” Kosta turned to the far
corner of the ruined Palataki ,
where the little man had first appeared. There, he saw a pile of rock, stacked,
instead of fallen from the surrounding walls. He walked to the pile and chanced
a peek at the writhing little man, tugging at his feet in an attempt to free
himself.
    “Stop it,” Kosta commanded, gesturing for the binding
roots of light to intensify, burning the man’s exposed, cleaving fingers. He
growled in agony, but no burns showed on the hands he now clutched to his
chest.
    “You don’t know what you’re doing!” he wailed. “Don’t
let him out!”
    Kosta paid him no heed and stopped before the
unnatural pile of stone. Between chunks of the rock, he saw a blue light,
trying to escape. After shifting a few stones, he was blinded by a brilliance,
which he grasped.
    This was Plethon. The other had merely dressed in the
flesh of old philosopher. Clutching the light, Kosta walked to the hysterical,
thrashing impostor, pushing the light into his face and rubbing it in. The
resulting guttural screech and ferocious growl drove Kosta to his knees.
    A light touch brought him to. “Get up.” A gentle
insistence revived him enough to stand. The same little man looked at him. The
malevolent, vulpine glint had vanished from his eyes, replaced with boundless
understanding. He looked at Kosta in the same way that a supremely efficient
public servant would an eager citizen. He was there to answer any questions and
proffer any help.
    “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Are you alright?”
    “Yes,” Kosta replied. “I’ll be fine.
    “How did you know what to do? How did you…” He
replicated the motions Kosta had used to bind the demon.
    “I’ve done more reading than any other Truth,” he
answered.
    “More than all combined.” The old teacher nodded,
impressed. He walked to the edge of the rock pile, which had so recently been
his cell. “Thank you. I’m indebted to you. I have been imprisoned since Mystra
was abandoned to Turks, Venetians and traitors.”
    “How? Why?” Kosta tried to be more precise. “How did
the demon take your form and why?”
    “When bitter Dimitri, the emperor’s brother, handed
Mystra to Mehmet, we lost all protection. God completely abandoned the
Byzantines.” The old man felt bitterness choke in his throat. He stared out on
the Evrota Valley, with the Taïyetos Spire ranging
and enclosing it, looking silently at Sparti’s lights.
    “It’s still there. After it’s ancient stones were
used to build Mystra, I thought that Sparti would never rise again. How ironic that we
look at its bright lights from this darkness.” He turned and smiled at the
Paleologan eyes.
    “Without protection, we were all in danger,” he
continued. “Those dark ones used me to deceive any who came looking for guidance.
They lured them into their dark designs.”
    “How did they manage it?” Kosta asked.
    “It wasn’t through conjuring or magic,” he said,
ashamed. “They asked why the Catholics should rule the world since they let
Byzantines die.” He shook his head. “It all sounded so