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BRIEF GUIDE FOR A GUARD OF GLOOM

Code of guards of Gloom 3

History of guards of Gloom for millennia. Dates, epoch, milestones 16

Guards of Light and principles of their elimination 69

Recruitment of magic armies 71

Basis of necro-magic 86

Instruction on the awakening of corpses 95

Freezing, storage, and reanimation of hanged men under the conditions of an average groove 131

Theories and practice of general zombification 143

Operating principles with agents and succubae 153

Methods of enlisting gnomes, house-spirits, wood-goblins, and others, with instructions for objects serving as valuables for each type of magic people 157

Thirty-two taboos of Madame Snow White 158

Standard contract for the expropriation of property rights to an eidos 160

Stupor and other methods of fashionable meditation 164

An artefact like it is not 171

A short list of the artefacts of Light and Gloom, including those found in a search since 1064 198

Method of magic jab — means of determining the true value of an artefact 212

Tables of exchange of artefacts and eide without taking into account Gloom’s commission and taxes 222

Contemplation of the navel as the method of demonstration of magical superiority 241

1665 means of magic killing with illustrations and diagrams 262

Basic principles of care of darx 366

Legend about sarcophagus 372

 

Methodius looked around in alarm. After the terrible dream, any reference to the word “sarcophagus” threw him into a cold sweat. After a short fight with himself, he attempted to open to page 372 in order to find out something of interest on sarcophagus, but the book unexpectedly became obstinate:

 

Access to inquired information is limited! To obtain access touch the binding of the book with a personal darx.

 

“Darx? It’s in for repairs!” Methodius awkwardly lied.

The book must have known how to understand speech, because in the following instant it already angrily slammed shut, almost pinching Methodius’ fingers, and on the cover flared up the letters:

 

WITHOUT A PERSONAL DARX YOU CAN:

Be connected to the channel Beyond Gloom Broadcasting (except for paid channels 600 to 669).

Contact the Chancellery of Gloom and the head of the Chancellery Ligul the Hunchback personally.

Obtain free information from the senior phantom in the city crematory.

 

For a while Methodius was determining his desires, after which he concluded that for the time being he was not drawn to contacting the Chancellery or obtaining free information in the crematory. However, it would be interesting to link to the channel Beyond Gloom Broadcasting.

He stretched out his hand and traced with his finger along the line. The book was opened somewhere in the middle, after showing flat numbers of sine and cosine. Methodius understood that he had accidentally backslid to moronoid sight, and, waiting until his sight again grew misty, he blinked.

Immediately the sines and cosines crawled away like frightened cockroaches.



Methodius saw pleats of dark curtains, across from which sat a stern man with a sallow face and sagging lips. He had grass and loamy soil sticking to his hair. His heavy eyelids, like that of a bull, were lowered. The voice sounded low, hoarse, and terrible, as if dirt was blocking the throat.

“On the air is Venya Vii and his daily analytical program Putrid Eye. Ack! Dirt blocking the throat, please excuse me...

“This week marked a series of failures for the guards of Light. Announcements of the program: night attack on a guard of Light ferrying to the Garden of Eden eide once recaptured from guards of Gloom. In an honest battle, a guard of Light has been heavily injured by three daggers into the back. The hunchback Ligul adds seven new eide into his darx. The squadron of guards of Light sent to intercept was late — Ligul had hidden in Gloom. Other news: theft of an artefact of Light — the famous marble horn of Minotaur. Daphne, an assistant junior guard suspected of the theft, vanished from the Garden of Eden in the same night. Not such bad staff, eh? Continuous degeneration of degrades. That is, the degradation of degenerates... Overall, I hope you understood what I wanted to say, because I myself did not understand it. Ack-ack...

“And finally, the sensation: the brave boy Methodius Buslaev is with us! He will go through training in one of the residences of Gloom in the territory of the moronoid world. The swordsman Ares, having recently returned from exile, and his ward Julitta refused to report to us any further news about Buslaev, his first successes and failures. Moreover, Ares threatened to cut off the nose of our special correspondent Psoi Zabodallo. If this happened, it would already be the third attempt on the nose of our correspondent in the given calendar year...”

Venya Vii smiled mysteriously with teeth soiled by dirt.

“And finally, dessert. At the end of the program, on numerous requests from the audience, I will have my eyelids raised. I greatly hope that Nagiana Pripyatskaya, insolent anchor from Bald Mountain, will be on screen at this moment. I will stand no competition on the air, like her brisk plagiaristic broadcasts... Now, more details about these and other events. Let us examine them, so to speak, in the microscope of our telescope.”

Instead of the promised details, Vii suddenly became silent, lowered his head, and began to snore. He was clearly not one of those anchors, who, chattering, shoot out words as if they are firing two machine guns at once. The pause was dragging on until it became unseemly. After about two minutes from behind the curtain appeared a little gypsy witch in a very short skirt and, smiling charmingly to the audience, she shook Vii out of a slumber.

“I beg forgiveness. A small technical pause...” said Vii hoarsely. Baby Daphne, earlier having become famous for being present at scandals in the Garden of Eden, and also for dark feathers on her wings, had sunk to stealing the marble horn of Minotaur. I will remind you that this artefact possesses a unique effect. Any essence touched by the horn transforms into an icy chunk for half a year. No magic protection can rescue it, including universal incantation and total superstition. The mentioned magic does not extend to the next owner of the horn. Until now, it is incomprehensible how Daphne, having access only to First Heaven, was able to steal the horn stored in Third. It is possible that she used the rare magic of re-identification or exchange of essences. Gloom is following with interest the further course of events. In turn, I am obliged to keep you posted on the course of this whole artistic delirium.”

Vii yawned, demonstrating ground-off yellow teeth to the audience.

“And now the promised dessert! Assistants, raise my eyelids! Music!” He ordered.

The curtains moved apart. Two very young witches put bandages on Vii’s eyelids and pulled them clear over his eyes. The succubae orchestra, famous in the entire Beyond world for its musicality and humanitarian gifts, started to rumble. The image floated somewhere to the side, trembled twice, and faded. Vii’s somewhat crooked legs flickered in the last frame. The music faded, having been interrupted sporadically as if the succubae were mowed down by dense machine-gun fire. Methodius surmised that the cinematographer of Beyond Gloom Broadcasting, seeing Vii’s eyes for the first time, fainted, and, having crashed down together with the camera, saved the lives of thousands of spectators. Those in the studio were less lucky.

Methodius slammed shut the book. He perceived that it was enough impressions for him today.

“Guards of Light, guards of Gloom, darx, eide... What have I gotten into?” He muttered.

Methodius turned off the light and slid under the blanket. Vovva Skunso had not yet returned, although it was already nearly eleven o’clock. “Not so bad top brass! Just let this snake try to turn on the light when he returns,” thought Methodius, falling asleep. He hoped that he would not dream of the sarcophagus today. However, after the nice Vii with his grave humour it would be much harder to surprise him.

The awakening of Methodius was not among the most pleasant. Someone poured a glass of icy water over his head. He pulled off the blanket and sat up with a jerk. Light simultaneously flared up. There were five more besides him in the room. Each had over his head a paper bag with slits for eyes. Everyone was in a long white cloak, clearly a sheet some time earlier. A stamp of the school remained on one of the cloaks. Each held a burning candle.

“Get up, worthless! The head of the Order of the Yellow Skull wants to see you!” A voice thundered. Methodius was certain he was hearing it for the first time. It was precisely neither Skunso nor Pasha Sushkin.

“Buy yourself a ticket to the crematory!” Methodius snapped.

The joke was not appreciated. They unceremoniously grabbed and dragged him along the corridor. Methodius resisted as much as he could. He punched a fist rather well directly into the centre of a paper bag over one head. Into the stomach of another, he successfully kicked with a bare foot. His gymnastic successes ended with this. The wise law of nature says that when it is one against five, justice most often takes a rest. Methodius did not understand why he did not call for help. He must have considered this beneath his dignity.

They pushed Methodius into some room. He saw several chairs set up beside each other with small spaces between. On each chair were a burning candle and a boot. The chair on the end was resting against a cabinet. The door of the cabinet was slightly open. Methodius surmised that someone was hiding inside. Most probably the crafty head of the Order of the Skull.

They shoved a disgustingly reeking sock into Methodius’ nose. It was possible to decide that it had been worn specially for about two weeks in expectation, until Methodius appeared in the school.

“You must pass the rite of introduction to the head of the Order! You will take this sock with your teeth! Is that clear? You will climb through in turn under all the chairs and kiss each boot once.”

“And is it possible to do it twice?” Methodius asked. He had decided that he would sooner hang himself than do this. The door of the cabinet creaked.

“Don’t be smart! Do everything, lively!” A voice ordered. It sounded muffled; clearly they tried to change it.

“You do it! Same with the Order of the Skull! Nitwits with fast food bags over the head!” Methodius said and, rushing, gave a well-aimed kick to the door of the cabinet. The head of the Order of the Yellow Skull squeaked. The door pinched his finger.

Someone’s fist gave a sharp blow to Methodius’ cheekbone. He staggered. They piled on top of Methodius and forced him against the floor. They got him down such that he could only move his eyes. They began to shove the sock into his mouth.

“Again I repeat! You will take the sock with your teeth and crawl under the chairs,” someone hissed, twisting his arm up almost to the back of his head.

The pain in the twisted arm acted strangely on Methodius. He stopped trying to break away. A sudden glass-like clarity began in his consciousness. It is the same at sea sometimes — the waves calm down and you will suddenly see the bottom, even at a great depth. He understood that in all twelve years of his life he had been gliding over the surface like a water measurer, not knowing the depth under him. He did not know the ocean of his strength.

“You are the navel of the Earth, the hope of Gloom, the lord of a small universe! You are Methodius Buslaev! You can do more than anyone!” He heard the voice of Ares so clearly, as if the Baron of Gloom was with him in the room.

Methodius looked at the fire. The flames of all the candles stretched to him. He perceived how he drew the fire with his sight. He drank it with greediness and lit up his power. The voices of the “yellow skulls” broke through to him like through a pillow. Methodius no longer heard them, but even if he did, then everything they were saying was unimportant. He was both in and outside his body. He grew and saw simultaneously the room, the floor, the entire building of the school, and even part of the roof of the former rental-housing unit on Dmitrovka 13.

One of the skulls, that same one who was unsuccessfully shoving the sock into Methodius’ lips and nose, decided to use other tactics. Firmly grasping Methodius by the hair, he blocked up his nostrils. Methodius felt that he was choking. The dirty sock was pressed into his lips.

“Open your mouth, clumsy! All the same, I’ll force it! Tasty sockie, nice sockie! Say ‘Arf! Arf!’ ” The “skull” said almost tenderly.

“What should I do?” Methodius thought, as if asking someone.

“And is it worthwhile to do something? Or has the sock already become cold steel?” The calm voice of Ares asked. The walls parted. Methodius clearly saw that his chief was sitting in his office, with his feet on the table, and smiling mysteriously.

“I cannot deal with them!” Methodius shouted mentally.

“You can TOO! Use the fire, which you absorbed! It’s in you! Indeed!”

“I... cannot!”

“Perhaps I’m to summon another division of Gloom? Fight them yourself! They’re piglets against you! Fight or... however, why don’t you chew the sock? I don’t think that it’s poisoned.”

“Never!” Methodius thought with hatred. His consciousness darkened. Choking, he accomplished what he would never do in his normal state. Still unsure — but gaining strength with each instant — Methodius mentally rolled up the fire into tight little lumps, strengthened them with his own power, and threw the flame.

The “skulls” began to howl. It seemed to them that they saw two narrow fiery jets, drawing lines in the room with red-hot filaments. The most terrible thing was that the jets came out not even from Methodius’ mouth but from his eyes, emerald and sombre.

The paper bag on the head of the “skull” holding him flared up. The “skull” tore it away it and dropped it, burning his hands. Buslaev saw swollen frightened eyes and smoking hair. An unknown face distorted by fear. Methodius closed his eyes tightly, sensing that it was the only way to extinguish the fire. Shutting his eyes — the external eyes — so that together with them he would shut out those present.

“Zaplevaev is burning! I cannot hold his arm! Kick this snake, Drell!” Pasha Sushkin began to yell.

In horror, he had not considered what was happening and where the flame was from.

Methodius opened his eyes and again threw the flame. Two red-hot tongues instantly caught the flared-up tulle curtains and rested on the cabinet. Suddenly Methodius understood that he no longer needed the candles in order to summon flame — the fire was inside him.

The “skulls” let go of him, scattering in different directions, beginning to crawl into cracks, rushing to the window and the door. The room was filling with smoke. Buslaev slowly rose, groping the wall. He swayed. All his muscles were hurting.

However, his thirst for vengeance had not yet been quenched. All the time Methodius was looking and looking at the cabinet, until the finish began to melt and reek. Until the decorative key began to flow with the heated metal.

The head of the Order began to yell terribly, choking with smoke and surrendering. Only then did Methodius again close his eyes tightly.

“Skuns! Come out!” He ordered.

The door of the cabinet opened, and Vovva Skunso did not even walk but tumbled out from there. Coughing, he fell onto his knees. The face of a menacing Vovva was painted in red and dark-blue strips that he himself had probably also devised for strengthening the effect. Only now, this appeared absurd. Methodius squatted down and, after finding himself on the same level with him, looked into his eyes.

He did not know what he had in his pupils, but Skunso began to wheeze in horror.

“Do you hear me?”

“He-ea-a...”

“If you’re having trouble with speech, nod!” Methodius said in understanding.

Skunso convulsively pulled his head, which probably indicated a nod.

“Do you want me to forget everything and again become the nice fluffy and affectionate Methodius?”

An assimilated Vovva began to nod like an ugly Chinese figurine.

“Then take the sock in your teeth, climb under the chairs and so on according to the list! Only don’t slobber too passionately over the boots. Leave something for Pasha Sushkin. It’s his turn after you,” ordered Methodius.

 

Chapter 7

The Nicest Monster

 

Sunset was flowing like raspberry syrup. Edward Khavron was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, rubbing his ears with cologne, and with stoic heroism pulling hair out of his nostrils. The champion of soup bowls and prince of over-cooked chops was dreamy and fine like sleep on a summer night.

His sister Zozo was standing beside him, using her thigh pushing Eddy away from the sink, and nervously gargling with water and iodine. After the morning run, she felt worn out morally and physically. The essayist Basevich literally put her through the wringer with his healthy way of life. The last time he phoned an hour ago, for about fifteen minutes he was acting thoughtlessly, asking whether she was meditating today in the daytime. When he finally hung up, Zozo was shaking and feeling strange. She wanted to grab the phone and hit it against the wall. All her chakras were gulping negative energy like the Kingston valves of a sinking battleship taking in ocean water. Zozo clearly was not in harmony and unity with the surrounding world.

“Phew!” Zozo said, spitting water out into the sink. “I’m terribly concerned about Methodius! How is he there in the new school? Do the other kiddies treat him badly?”

Eddy Khavron laughed aloud:

“Kiddies? You still say: babies! And there a third can be hung, the other third can be shot, and the remaining jailed for life! I know these papa’s boys! They are eternally soiling the loos in our restaurant! As if you send porters with them!”

“I worry about Methodius! What if they treat him badly there? He’s so complex, so hard to understand!” Zozo compassionately said. She, like a true woman, idealized her own son and related sceptically to the children of all other women.

“He’ll adapt!” Edward Khavron confidently stated and with a powerful push of his pelvis drove his sister away from the sink. “There are two laws, which all men of the world yield to. The law of the fist and the law of an iron nature. Without the first it’s still possible to manage here and there, though complicated, but without the second indeed not at all. Methodius is entirely normal with that and other things. But, remember, if your young brave sticks his paw into my wallet ever again — I’ll finish him off like Taras Bulba with his own little Bulba!”

Zozo Buslaeva pensively scratched her nose and was a little comforted.

“You do think so, Eddy? Well, okay! Their director Mikhail Borisovich is simply a gem. I’ll even rub him with pickle juice and kiss him all over! To take our boy free of charge into this expensive school! And there each teacher is a professor and all janitors are candidates of science!”

“Whoa-whoa, and indeed I’m about that. Rather strange somehow. Must punch a hole through your Aryan in a militia base. This disinterested love for children is suspicious to me,” said the cynical Khavron.

The telephone began to ring persistently in the room.

“Oh no!” Zozo groaned. “Only not this! Eddy, you answer! If this Basevich asks whether I rinsed my throat, tell him I died.”

Eddy shrugged his shoulders and picked up the phone. He adored scaring the suitors of Zozo.

“Zoya! She choked and went to the morgue... I was so distressed that I was a half-hour late for work...,” he said offhandedly. “What? Whom do you want? And he’s also not here... He doesn’t live here now. He’s in a boarding school for the intellectually gifted... I don’t know how much. For the time being, it’ll not be intellectually presented... No harm done! And same to you!”

Eddy turned off the phone and was still, pensively nipping the antenna of the cell phone.

“Who’s this? Basevich?” Zozo shouted from the bathroom.

“It’s not Basevich. It’s some Irka, asked for Methodius. Her voice began to tremble when I told her that Methodius is not here. Clients stole two silver spoons from us and I paid for them!” Puckering his forehead, Eddy said.

“And how did Irka treat my having choked to death?” Zozo jealously asked.

“Reasonably. She sympathized a little.”

“Typical daughter-in-law,” Zozo sighed.

She became sad. She lay on the sofa, put her hands together on her stomach, and began to imagine herself as unhappy, deserted, and forgotten. A little tear, soon appearing in the corner of Zozo’s right eye, did not prevent her a bit from examining in a business-like manner the cracks in the plaster on the ceiling and estimating how to start the greedy Eddy on repairs.

Eddy Khavron arrayed himself in restaurant armour and was off, in the elevator whistling an annoying fresh hit tune, the words of which he had not memorized, but then the music was sweet as syrup and immersed the brain in liquid jam. After pushing open the entrance door, Eddy went out into the courtyard and discontentedly sneezed. The first week of May wound an allergic slipknot around his neck.

Eddy was about to direct his steps to the shuttle bus, when suddenly a girl, with a little gold ring in her lower lip, efficiently barred his way. A frightening cat with a sullen snout sat on her shoulder, a scarf wrapped around its body. The scarf swelled by strange means, forming on its shoulders a kind of hump of obscure origin.

“Hello!” The girl said.

“Goodbye, youngster!” Eddy said.

He took a step to the right, intending to go around her, but the girl took a step to the same side, not letting him through. Khavron was greatly astonished and mechanically wanted to be rude, but instead nervously licked his lips. It seemed to him that he saw over the girl’s head something like a shining circle. Several instants later, he understood that this was simply the light of the lamp, across from which the girl was standing. But the desire to behave boorishly had disappeared for some strange reason.

“Hello!” Eddy said.

“Here you see! Even pleasant to be polite! And now quickly think about Methodius!” The girl ordered.

“Again about Methodius? I don’t intend to think about anyone! Including also Metho...” Khavron started. Suddenly he stopped and involuntarily looked around. It seemed to him that someone was blowing softly from behind into his hair.

“Smart fellow! Quite enough. You don’t have to think more! Leave your little secret for the poor!” The girl allowed generously.

The hideous cat jumped down and, meowing, began to rub against Eddy’s legs. Khavron’s mood sharply deteriorated. The cook at Ladyfingers seemed to him an incorrigible cad, the clients were utter fools, his own life in the can, and, in general, he wanted to cry.

“Depressiac, leave the man alone!” The girl said angrily.

The cat licked its paw and unwillingly went away.

“Well, that’s it! Wipe your eyes! Depressiac already left. And now think where Methodius is!” Again, the girl demanded.

“Kiddo, what do you want from me? I don’t intend to think where Me...” Having stopped sobbing, Khavron started.

The girl interrupted him with an affirmative nod. This time the sensation of tickling in Khavron’s hair was quite fleeting.

“Smart fellow, it’s all I wanted to find out! When the shuttle door slams shut, you will forget everything. Go!” The girl ordered and, not looking back at all, was hidden by the corner of the building.

Eddy blinked perplexedly and headed for the road. Along the way he looked around two or three times. The mysterious cat was about to set off after him, but en route slowed down, arched its back, and directed its steps to a sheepdog, which was tearing away from the leash in the hand of the police captain Klepalov, living in the same building as Eddy.

“Hey, remove your cat! This is a special duty dog! It’ll tear it apart!” Klepalov yelled.

“Depressiac, don’t offend the doggie! It’s at work!” The girl said. She picked up the cat and was hidden by the corner of the building.

The shuttle stopped. Grabbing some people’s elbows, Khavron elbowed his way into a vacant spot. The door slammed. The back of the passenger sitting in front for an instant became double before Eddy’s eyes, and then was joined together again. Khavron again sneezed, mentally scolding his allergy. He suddenly understood that he could not remember how he turned out to be in the shuttle.

“Buddy, do you intend to pay?” The driver asked.

“I still haven’t paid?” Eddy asked absent-mindedly.

“No.”

“Then I intend to gradually. Very gradually,” Khavron sighed.

 

***

 

Daph, by that time sitting on one of the nearest roofs, was contented. She had clarified where to search for Methodius and even a mass of interesting details. Moreover, she did this so that the guards of Gloom suspected nothing. The idea of making use of the consciousness of Eddy Khavron was very successful. It was unlikely that the contents of his head would interest someone else. But even if they did, she did not leave a trace.

Depressiac, having rolled along the roof for a long time, finally tore away the scarf, put on in order not to shock moronoids too much, and freed its leathery wings.

“Ah, pity I cannot do some flying!” Daph thought despondently. But there could not be exceptions here. Flights in the world of moronoids were allowed only in extreme cases. This rule did not extend to Depressiac, especially as its wings, in contrast to Daph’s, were a part of it that could not dematerialize.

The past hours and days turned out to be dreadfully complicated for Daph. After several days of disgrace in the Garden of Eden and having cut out the inscription I was here, but who read, pig! on the bark of the tree of knowledge, even without that slightly soiled reputation she finally became a social outcast. Considerable guards turned away on meeting her, and sharp house-spirits winked suggestively and struck gnomes without any embarrassment in the presence of Daph. Same as the spying gnomes sneaking into territories of others, they darted near her feet with doubled impudence. A kick strengthened with the incantation of reactive ejection now and then fell intermittently from Daph onto some heedless ones.

However, the most characteristic in this story was that what she did provided the present Daph pleasure. Dark feathers on her wings became increasingly more, but she had decided to fly past the rock griffins no longer, especially after the incident when one of the griffins came alive.

Guard General Troil no longer summoned her. But once in the morning, after waking, Daph discovered something foreign under her cheek. This was a parchment tied up with a delicate bright ribbon. For a while, Daph examined the odd knot and could not grasp from what end to approach it. She reached for the scissors, but she had hardly touched the ribbon with them when it untied by itself and like a living silvery snake slid under the bed.

There were only two lines of old-fashioned letters on the parchment. The letters pressed close to one another and appeared sleek and quiet like intimidated students. Daph was even slightly astonished that Troil could have this handwriting. However, it seemed without a doubt that the letter was from Troil. Below shone the Light seal, which could not be counterfeited.

Tonight. The marble horn of Minotaur — the only artefact, which will allow you to leave Eden unnoticed. Third Heaven. Depository of artefacts next to my office. Use Hrunelon’s rune. In the third hour after midnight go to any place of Eden’s wall far from the guarded gates and touch it with the horn. The formed passage will be sufficient to slip through,” read Daphne.

Daph rushed to the Book of White Guards — the reference manual for all guards of Light. This was a slender little brochure, no more than forty pages at first glance; however, the longer you read it, the thicker it became. Some rare ones managed to read five hundred pages in a day and in ten years hardly reached the middle. However, it could be that they artistically exaggerated, since artistic exaggeration is characteristic of all born under the sun.

Leafing through the subject index, Daph found a reference to Hrunelon’s rune:

 

Hrunelon’s rune (see Hrunelon) is considered one of the most dangerous black magic runes. Draw it by blood from the ring finger of the right hand on a gravestone of white marble, on condition that in the last hundred years not one crow has sat down on the gravestone. It allows a single magic penetration into any guarded place, including Hades, the Garden of Eden, and Third Heaven, and return. The use in combination with the maglody of invisibility and the marking of the rune of eluding appearance on a foot permits one to remain unnoticed to guards.

SIDE EFFECTS. It can cause short-term blackout of consciousness and other unexpected behaviour.

FORBIDDEN FOR USE BY GUARDS OF LIGHT UNDER THREAT OF EXPULSION FROM EDEN.

 

“In short, blows the cover... You won’t frighten me with these. My cover is already in free fall,” decided Daph.

After re-reading the entry in the book, she noticed that the words “Hrunelon,” “maglody of invisibility,” and “rune of eluding appearance” were emphasized.

“Aha!” Daph was delighted and, after understanding what this indicated, she found in the Book of White Guards the information about Hrunelon.

 

Hrunelon — twelfth duke of Gloom, practitioner of black magic. Killed by the guard of Light Philaretos in the beginning of 2000 B.C.

 

In the section Maglody of Invisibility Daphne discovered the notes, which she only just managed to understand. “If I train for an hour or so, possible to play it quite properly,” she thought, after estimating that there were not that many notes. The “rune of eluding appearance” worried Daphne much more.

The figure of this rune, similar to a gnarled tree trunk, was running for a long time at first along the pages of the book, fully living up to its name, and only near the end, forced against the index, allowed Daphne to examine it.

 

The rune of eluding appearance. First used by the French magician Cherchez La Femme for the flight from Hades in 375 A.D. Draw on the sole of the left foot (near the heel) with the juice squeezed out of a fig at midnight. Visually the appearance of the magician using the rune changes sixty times per minute, allowing him to make a fool of even that keen-sighted guard, who is capable of spotting the invisible.


Date: 2015-12-24; view: 573


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The Order of the Yellow Skull | SIDE EFFECTS. Capable of causing vertigo and temporary loss of memory, especially during simultaneous application with other magic means.
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