Frostfell_ The Wizards - Mark Sehestedt [90]
The sorcerer spoke an incantation and swiped at the bolt with his hand. It evaporated in a sizzling shower of sparks, then the sorcerer stood to his full height and reached within the folds of his cloak. Amira heard the cold whisk of steel being drawn, and when the blade emerged from the depths of the cloak, she recognized it at once. It was Walloch's rapier-the one that had almost killed her only a few days ago.
"Silo'at!"
Cold and frost funneled outward from the blade, but as it struck the core of the golden aura surrounding Amira, it hissed like cold water thrown on hot coals. The shower of frost and ice that raked her face hurt, but it was a bearable pain.
Amira thrust her staff forward and said, "Keljan saule!"
The runes along the staff flared, and a shard of light shot out. It hit the sorcerer in the chest, throwing him away from Jalan and down the slope. Though no sound came to her ears, in her mind Amira heard a shriek that seemed to seek out all the dark places of her mind and rattle there like shards of glass.
Seeing the smoldering cloak hit the ground, she cried out in triumph and ran for Jalan. But the darkness within the cloak congealed, and in the part of her mind where instinct ruled, Amira sensed fell power gather and spring. The sorcerer leaped and took to the air like a great bird of prey, his cloak rippling like a tattered banner, and then he was falling toward her.
Amira opened her mouth to form a spell, then an image hit her-
–Mursen charging into the fray, ducking as the broken body of a knight flew past him. A spell passed his lips, the rod in his hand flared-then darkness in an ash-gray cloak lunged.
Snap! Like the sound of a green branch breaking, the thing's hand reach out, grabbed Mursen by the head and twisted, breaking his neck-
–and the spell faltered on Amira's lips. The light round her dimmed as darkness incarnate descended.
A silver shadow struck the sorcerer the instant before he would have hit her. Silver shadow and ash-colored cloak went down in a snarling explosion of snow. Amira watched, dumbfounded.
The sorcerer threw the wolf off, but it turned in midair and hit the ground running. Four long strides and it jumped again. The sorcerer crouched and brought his sword around in an arc before him. The wolf's snarl turned into a yelp. The animal hit the ground and slid to a stop at Amira's feet. The blade had opened a gash along the side of the wolf's head and haunches, and the sheer force of the blow had shattered bone.
It broke Amira from her stunned silence.
"Dramasthe!" She sent a bolt outward.
The sorcerer swiped it to sparks with his blade and advanced on her.
Again-"Dramasthe!"-and again he knocked it away, almost nonchalantly. But that shot had been meant as a distraction.
Amira took a step back and pointed her staff at her foe. "Keljan saule!"
The runes along the staff flared like hot coals kissed by a soft breeze. She aimed for the bastard's head-
–and that was her mistake.
He didn't bother to try to deflect the shard of light, but crouched. The light flew over his head to disappear in the storm. Amira gathered her breath, hoping there was time for another spell.
A shadow emerged from the swirling snow. The light emanating from Amira did not reflect off the club the man was whirling on the end of a leather leash, for it was of the blackest iron.
"Gyaidun, no!" she shouted.
But where her attack had failed, Gyaidun's struck. Perhaps the dark sorcerer had simply been expecting only magical attacks, for the warrior's club swung down and connected with solid flesh somewhere in the folds of the cloak. The sorcerer did not collapse, but he did stumble down the slope.
Gyaidun turned to her and shouted, "Get Jalan and go! Go!"
Then he turned back to his foe, and it was all he could do to stay alive.
Tears welling in her eyes, Amira turned and ran down the hill.
* * * * *
Every childhood nightmare, every horror feared at the back of the north wind, had taken form before Gyaidun, swathed in an ash-gray cloak, and