A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [64]
And then the young wizard found himself swept around in a helpless spiral in the air, high above the warrior-roamed battlefield, his maimed hands clawing at the whistling wind and finding no aid or hold to cling to. A singing sound was erupting from his Dwaer, rising, rising…
Bright blue flame suddenly burst into being in front of him, a huge sphere of fire that completely hid the glimmering star that was his foe-along with that half of the sky. The roaring of wind in Jhavarr's ears died, and his Dwaer's song fell into a confused, discordant chiming.
"Blackgult!" a woman's voice cried from out of those flames, high with rage and exultation. "At last!"
"Strike, sisters!" another female called. "Strike now!"
Fire and lightning and bright and deadly spell-arrows of a sort Jhavarr had never seen before leaped up from the flames, arcing high over Blackgult's suddenly bright Dwaer, then stabbing down like claws coming in at the regent from all sides.
"Die, Blackgult!" A third woman shrieked, rage and grief making her voice tremble on the edge of tears. "In the name of Raevur Talasorn, die!" Jhavarr Bowdragon opened his mouth to shout in delight and triumph, raising a fist to beat at the air-and then the air before him shattered in blinding brightness, and bolts were lancing every-
Horses screamed and bolted, tumbling more than a few men from their saddles. Men shouted and ran in like fear, wildly, running to nowhere, fleeing the great smiting in the sky. A few fell, or cowered under their shields, awaiting the next great blow-as their ears rang and the echoes of that great blast rolled around the woods and across the fields, from Sarth to the mountains and back.
No other blast followed-nothing but a hissing in the darkened sky, and here and there wet thuds. They heard those same thuddings in Sarth and in Helm Hollow beyond-and even along the backlands road, where men came out of their steadings to stare at what was raining down into their hog troughs and orchards alike, all around: small pieces of Bow-dragon and torn-armored Aglirtan warrior.
Chapter Eleven
Going to Flowfoam to Die
The way ahead was dark. Yet he knew it all too well, every painful stone step that he was crawling down, headfirst, resting his chin on cold and dusty stone as his crushed and broken fingers shrieked protests. His gaspings echoed loudly around him, in the chill, deserted underways of Flowfoam. None came here but the rats-and Ingryl Ambelter.
He smiled into the darkness. Aye. None came here but the rats, indeed.
The stair ended-good, 'twas the last one. Now across this little unseen room-to the right, here, where there was a tilted flagstone… the doorway waited, somewhere beyond…
His probing hand struck the edge of the frame a little too hard, and the pain-wracked Spellmaster sobbed and curled up to shudder away the pain, until he could master himself enough to crawl on again. Not for the first time he wished he'd left Gadaster a little closer to the ways above, just a few bebolten rooms nearer-Surge, all afire *gasp* such *power* gone, rolling away… What was THAT?
" DIV the and then to been has or that was good.He let his forehead sink down onto the cold stone, and lay still. His mind was still atingle, but he knew very well what he'd felt-a great surge of sorcery, racing up from the south and west, invisible but as alive as a hundred shouting men. Farmers and armsmen might not even feel it, but it would serve every wizard as it had him: crashing into their heads, roaring-and then, having washed over them in its flood, race on, leaving them dazed.
Some great act or shattering cataclysm of sorcery had just befallen, somewhere nearby in Darsar, possibly in Aglirta itself… and here he was, crawling like a sick child across a cold stone floor, on his way to embrace a dead wizard's skeleton.
Gadaster Mulkyn no doubt lay waiting just as grinningly patient as always, his tutor and tormentor no more. Ingryl had laid