Bloodwalk - James P. Davis [24]
Another gnoll scrambled to ready his weapon, but Quinsareth kicked and side-stepped, and with a backhand swing sent another head to the puddles.
The last gnoll, still bleeding, made a decision quickly and was already running past the captive townsfolk, preferring to brave the storm and the shame of defeat rather than the ghostly warrior and the screaming blade.
Quinsareth had barely turned his attention to the ogre when his vision was suddenly filled with bright blue light and his body was hit with the concussive force of Mahgra's spell. The ogre mage bared his ivory teeth and tusks as lightning arced from his outstretched hand, launching Quinsareth's body into the air to crash against the side of a nearby cottage.
The townsfolk began screaming and rising from the cobblestones, no longer threatened by the gnolls and overcome with fear of the devilish ogre. Parents gathered their children, soaked and shivering, to run and scatter from the mystical battle.
Quinsareth hit the ground face first. Pulling himself up on hands and knees, he gasped at the searing pain that burned behind his eyes and throughout his muscles. Tiny arcs of electricity raced along his arms and disappeared into the puddle he'd landed in. Bedlam had sailed free of his grip when he hit the wall of the cottage but lay within reach, rippling the surface of a puddle into concentric rings as it hummed in a childlike rage.
Quin's eyes, aching, began to clear. The burning in his muscles dissipated and he flexed his fingers in the water, regaining feeling in them. A slight resistance to electricity accompanied his angelic and unnerving eyes, but the ogre's powerful bolt had caught him off guard. The game was always unpredictable, but few stones could change its course as could the one called Magic.
The blue-skinned ogre approached with an arrogant swagger, smiling and gloating at his fallen foe, spinning the rune-covered glaive casually as rain hissed and steamed on the vile blade.
A wizard, Quinsareth thought. That explains much, but does me little good if I lie down and die now.
He winced as he rose to one knee, reaching behind him and grasping Bedlam's hilt, assured by the confidence in the ogre's eyes. The ogre clearly felt he had the advantage and was taking his time with his kill. This beast no doubt had a common ogre's penchant for cruelty.
"You fought well, little one. Your tricks were entertaining, to say the least." Mahgra's booming voice carried easily across the noise of the storm. His large fingers absently traced several symbols on the head of the glaive as he added distractedly, "I can show you true magic, better than phantoms and parlor tricks."
Quinsareth jumped at the ogre, closing the distance in a heartbeat and slashing at the steaming glaive. He disrupted Mahgra's spell but landed no blow. Mahgra gripped the glaive rigidly, blocking Bedlam's wailing edge with his strength as he whispered another spell. The arcane words flowed like a dark song in Quin's ears.
Unable to overcome the ogre's strength, Quinsareth rolled beneath it, twisting and slashing across Mahgra's massive rib cage. Ducking beneath the behemoth's left arm, he turned to complete another cut along the ogre mage's back.
Mahgra merely turned as he completed his incantation, nonplussed by the pain of Quinsareth's attacks.
The magic was invisible, but it fell on Quinsareth's shoulders like a crushing weight, pushing him to his knees and squeezing his body like a closed fist. Stars erupted before his eyes as he struggled to breathe. The spell continued, worming across his skin and up his neck, clawing at the edges of his skull and scraping at his thoughts.
He closed his eyes tightly and called on the shadows, fighting the invasive spell and resisting its urges to submit and give up his spirit. The shadows answered, bolstering his will and disassembling the unseen power around him.
As the pressure eased, Quinsareth