A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [62]
"Regent of Aglirta, for what you allowed to happen to my sister, you shall die! For what you just tried to do to me, know this: your passing shall be slow and painful!"
"I know your sister not," Blackgult replied quietly, "though I recall hearing of a Bowdragon among the archwizard Tharlorn's apprentices- but I fear I know the Stone you bear all too well. How came you by it?"
"I took it from one who deserved it not, nor had power enough to keep it from me," the young wizard sneered, "and now I'll-"
Blackgult was not in a mood to waste time or breath this day. He called on his two Dwaer to slash with blades of unseen air at the man facing him, seeking to break limbs and the man's neck and jaw, too, ere this Jhavarr finished spouting doom.
Flashes of light heralded his attacks-or rather, their strivings against an unseen shielding spell. Somewhere behind those raging rathances the young mage shouted derisive laughter at him, and struck back.
Ezendor Blackgult was no accomplished wizard who might make Dwaerindim dance, empowering webs of intricate and many-layered enchantments and conjurations-but he'd dabbled in sorcery for years as best a cunning warrior could, and knew a few magics very well.
Wherefore the dark bolt that hurled him into the air, flinging many dead men aloft to whirl limply around him, slew him not.
Blackgult used the Dwaer to twist it, so the fire that should have ravaged his innards gave him scales instead, and from the midst of his tumbling smashed back at Bowdragon-two fists of force, one behind the other.
The first shattered the wizard's shielding spell, and the second drove him to the ground with brutal force. Blackgult heard the dull snapping of ribs ere Jhavarr's Dwaer flamed bright and forced his onslaught away.
"Graul you, old bastard!" Bowdragon shouted, a thread of pain in his furious voice, "I'll kill you!" Wincing, he clambered to his feet, not waiting to snatch his balance ere he hurled bursts of flame at Blackgult.
"You already have," the regent told him grimly, striding forward with the fires of his own Dwaer whirling around him, sucking in Bowdragon's flames to make themselves stronger.
Jhavarr found his footing, strode forward to face the regent-and then met the eyes of the grim warrior stalking forward in blood-spattered armor, and involuntarily took a step back. Then another.
Blackgult raised his sword as he came. "If you've slain my daughter in seizing her Stone," he explained almost gently, "and keep me now from fighting alongside my men as Bloodblade reaches for the Throne, you slay me as surely as if your blade pierces my heart."
Jhavarr sneered and threw up a shield, calling on the Dwaer to make it strong and abristle with many whirling swordblades. Blackgult strode towards it, never slowing, and the young wizard's face grew pale as the regent's two whirling Dwaer winked and flared, forcing the shield of many blades back, step by step, towards its caster.
"So you storm through Aglirta striking folk down in the name of your sister," Blackgult continued, eyes dark and angry, "and slay or do harm to folk who never knew her. I think you're just one more greedy young mage who wants a cloak of righteousness to cover your butcherings and thefts. Tell me: how many farms have you burned? How many commoners have you casually struck down?"
The sword was reaching for him. Jhavarr cast a swift and desperate spell to make it burn again, but this time his flames spiraled off it in wisps as they formed, plucked away to join the tunnel of racing fire around Blackgult.
Jhavarr's shield was almost touching him now-and in sudden alarm he saw that its blades were receding into it-no-reversing through it, so that their glittering points menaced him now, and not his foe! They reached for him, growing longer, sliding out at him with Blackgult's own sword at their heart… the regent was bending