Black wizards - Douglas Niles [145]
"Magius, stryke!"
Five hissing bolts of magical energy shot in rapid succession from Alexei's fingertip, each arrowing toward Kryphon's grinning figure. And each sizzled into extinction as it came into contact with the green sphere.
"I am impressed in spite of myself," acknowledged Alexei. Despite his outer calm, his mind whirled through a succession of desperate plans, discarding each as futile.
"That could not matter less to me," sneered Kryphon. He waved a hand before him, preparing to cast a spell.
"Did you have a pleasurable dalliance with Doric?" asked Alexei, seizing upon that old ground as he groped for a plan.
"Bah! She quickly became annoying."
"Did you send her after the druid? She failed, you know."
Kryphon paused, surprised. "She went without my permission. She has been too frightened to return to me, since – no doubt doubly so, if she failed."
Alexei laughed. "She did not return to you because she cannot. The druid killed her!"
Alexei hoped to provoke a strong reaction from his enemy, but he was disappointed. Kryphon shrugged and suddenly knit his brows in concentration. Carefully, he stroked his fingers through the air.
"Sheeriath, drake," he hissed. Alexei dove to the side at his words, and the sticky strings of web missed him by scant inches. He rolled behind a tree, still concentrating.
The globe of invulnerability protected Kryphon from Alexei's magic. His enemy had all the advantages, stalking him while he could do little but scuttle out of the way. And how could he fight back without using his magic? Without using his magic on Kryphon, he reminded himself.
The murderous sorcerer crept closer – Alexei could hear the faint tread of his footfalls. He caught a glimmer of the magical screen coming around the tree and knew that his enemy was almost upon him. Overhead, one end of the shattered bridge hung limply. Kryphon stepped closer, and now Alexei saw him. Kryphon's hands were raised in preparation for a final, killing spell.
Alexei raised a hand, weaving a spell of his own. He saw Kryphon's confident grin – the black wizard felt quite secure behind his magical screen,
But Alexei's spell was not cast at the mage. He pulled forth a tiny glass rod, much like the diamond one Kryphon had used to send the lightning bolt against Vaughn Burne.
"Blitzyth, Dorax zooth!"
The bolt of lightning exploded from Alexei's finger as he pointed not at Kryphon, but straight above him. Kryphon's eyes widened in surprise, and he stumbled over the words of his own casting as he leaned back to look upward.
In a split second he saw the section of the heavy rampart swinging over his head. He watched the bolt of lightning crackle into it, severing the few points of support still holding the wreckage to the tree. And he screamed as the mass of twisted wood plummeted through his magical screen, and his skull, and his chest.
But even his death scream was drowned by the splintering and snapping of the broken mass as it crashed heavily to earth. The pile of wreckage creaked and groaned for several seconds before settling – a suitably anonymous gravestone for Kryphon, Alexei thought. The sudden end to the fight left him weak and trembling. He felt a little frustrated at the suddenness of Kryphon's death – he had hoped to savor the moment more.
He leaned against a rough tree trunk, slowly dropping until he was slumped on the ground. He stayed there for several minutes, until the sounds of marching awakened him from his reverie. The empty battlements greeted his eyes, and beyond, as if to mock him, he saw a line of crimson soldiers advancing toward the gate.
Alexei stayed behind the tree and watched. The soldiers, at first glance, seemed very close – but then he realized that it was their huge size that gave this impression. For these were not humans, marching a hundred abreast toward the undefended gate of Doncastle.
This was