Harafin stared in horror. Kevlin’s prostrate form glowed with so much magic that Harafin wondered that the young man wasn’t screaming. In the tower, Wayra was shouting something incoherent.
She’s going to hit him again, Harafin realized. Had the woman lost her mind? They were wasting precious time. He had to stop her. After pausing for a triple heartbeat to reinforce his shields, he raised his hands.
This is insane.
He spoke a word of power.
A bolt of pure white energy shot from his hands and slammed into Wayra’s shields with explosive force. His missile shattered and showered the courtyard with shards of fire.
Harafin ignored the fear that fluttered in his stomach. Wayra commanded vast amounts of power, so attacking her was next to suicide.
He had no choice.
Kevlin still didn’t move. He’d better get up soon, because Harafin could only buy a little time. If Kevlin stayed down and if he couldn’t help Wayra see reason, they were all going to die.
Half a dozen bolts of raw power blasted from the tower toward Harafin, drilling through the air with the promise of absolute destruction. The thunderclaps ripped the air and reverberated from the cliff.
The volley struck his shields and ricocheted. The impact staggered him and he grunted in pain. It felt like being hit in the head with a hammer. He couldn’t take many more of those.
“Stop, or I will destroy you,” Harafin shouted. “Tanathos is the real enemy. We need to join against him.”
She did not need to know the truth. If she continued attacking, she would overwhelm him all too soon.
# # #
In the tower, Wayra cursed.
How can he do that?
The old man was so frustrating. She was beyond listening to his counsel. She now held the power over Il’Aicharen and she alone would choose how it was spent. Anyone standing against her deserved their fate.
A glance at Ah’Shan’s prostrate form reinforced her resolve. She had trained and sacrificed decades to reach this point. Everything she was or hoped to become boiled down to this moment. She would cement her rule over Il’Aicharen, take the stone from the abomination, and present it to her master. Nothing else mattered.
If Harafin continued to challenge her dominance here or to thwart Ah’Shan’s rightful choosing as bearer, then she would remove him.
She shoulted, “Stand down, old man. Choose my master and stop these games.”
“Wayra, listen to me,” Harafin shouted. “You don’t understand.”
She understood. He wished to remove her new rule, wished to keep Ah’Shan subjected to him, a pawn for another century. She was done obeying.
Drawing even more deeply from the vast power at her command, she unleashed a fresh wave of fiery magic at Harafin.
# # #
Stolen novel; please report.
Black motes danced in Harafin’s vision and magic pulsed against his constraints, nearly bursting free of his control. Then strength flooded into him, augmenting his own and buttressing his shields.
“You should learn to choose your fights more wisely,” Leander remarked. The Pallian Stalwart stood beside him, one glowing hand on Harafin’s shoulder, pouring strength into him.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“She’s lost her senses. Why?” Leander asked.
“Actinic addiction. It’s the only explanation.”
Leander muttered a curse, reflecting Harafin’s dismay. If he was right, there would be no reasoning with Wayra. Some sentinels, either from lust for power or lack of discipline, suffered a rare mental breakdown when infused with too much magic.
The influx of so much light dazzled the mind and set it adrift, often wandering far afield. When that level of power could be drained away, they often returned to themselves, but Harafin could think of no way to do that with Wayra in this situation.
She struck again and, even with Leander’s strength augmenting his own, the contest taxed Harafin to the limits.
He couldn’t hold on much longer.
# # #
Ceren raced through the gaping hole that had once been the gate and stared. Harafin and Leander stood nearby, a shimmering sphere of magic surrounding them as they battled someone in the tower. How had the enemy gotten up there?
Then she spotted Kevlin. He lay unmoving across the courtyard, surrounded by blinding blue light, as if he were burning with indigo flame.
She stepped into the courtyard just as the attacker in the tower shouted, “You cannot defeat me, Harafin. I rule this keep. Choose my master and bow to me!”
Wayra?
Ten spears of magic blasted down and slammed into Harafin’s shield. It held, but wobbled as if on the verge of collapsing. Harafin looked exhausted.
“Ceren, wait.”
She turned as Indira raced through the shattered gate. The healer was surprisingly fast. Behind her, Jerrik had just finished ascending the rope, and he and Drystan were busy overseeing the effort of getting the forces up the cliff.
“Kevlin’s in trouble,” Ceren explained. “Can you help him?”
Indira frowned in concentration, staring at Kevlin’s unmoving form. After several heartbeats she stamped her foot in frustration.
“I can’t. Something’s blocking me.” Indira grabbed her arm. “I think he’s dying.”
“I’ve got to do something.”
“Wait.” Indira lifted a hand that glowed pure white with her power. She touched a single finger to Ceren’s forehead, and a shiver ran through her.
Indira’s dark eyes glowed with her gift. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
Ceren spun, and raced for the keep, and Wayra. She wasn’t actinopathic, but she knew one thing about magic.
Kill the sentinel, and their spells died with them.
# # #
The flood swept Tanathos forward at a breakneck pace. The rounded stone passage descended sharply at first and the flood picked up speed, tumbling him around like a doll in its grasp.
Sharp detonations reverberated through the water, the sound slamming painfully into his ears. Varicolored lights exploded ahead of him, and the leading edge of the water sizzled and boiled into steam.
Wards, he realized. The water triggered warding spells.
It saved his life. He barely kept from laughing underwater. No one had ever expected to have to ward against a flood. Instead of triggering a wall to block the floodwaters and drown him, the wards appeared set to trigger destructive blasts that would shred any invader but proved ineffectual against tons of water.
The shape of the passage remained constant and smooth, eight feet in diameter as it bored into the mountain. Soon the slope eased, and the waters slowed in their rush toward the heart of the mountain.
His head broke the surface as they subsided. He wanted to shout with glee. Everything was working together for his victory.
A moment later, he slid to a stop. Climbing to his feet, he pushed ahead through the knee-deep water and almost complete darkness.
The halimaw followed, shambling on all fours, a sodden mass of silvery fur. Its heavy odor filled the passage and its rasping breath drowned out the splashing of their footsteps.
A few minutes later, Tanathos rounded the passageway’s first turn and grinned. A faint glow of silvery light outlined another corner perhaps a hundred paces ahead. He jogged to the corner and stepped around it. The passage widened until its ceiling reared fifteen feet and the walls stretched twice as wide. At the limit of his vision, the passage turned again, with the light glowing bright from somewhere beyond.
As they approached, that light pulsated with the unmistakable rhythm of life. A faint thrumming vibrated through the stones under his feet. His skin began to prickle as if from a faint breeze, even though the air remained deathly still.
Magic.
The mountain was heavy with it.