Hand of Fire - Ed Greenwood [93]
Grinning fiercely, Pheldred finished his spell just as another of his shieldings disintegrated. Those that were left expanded sharply outward, hurling back the beams of the wands in spark-spitting chaos.
Smoke arose from at least one singed carry-bag on the wagon floor, but Aumlar was too busy worrying about the Thayan's magic to see which bag it was.
Pheldred's spell wasn't just a new set of shields, it was something that sought to drink in the ravages of his wands and twist their energies to forge another spellblade, this one shimmering longer and larger and brighter already.
One of Aumlar's wands burst with a tiny "pop," like a candle snuffed by an overenthusiastic servant. A thread of smoke trailed up from its splintered end.
There was no sign of the explosion that might have turned the wagon into a crypt for both wizards.
Pheldred must have drained it, and – Another wand died, and the Red Wizard's smile widened. Aumlar was almost between him and the entrance, now, but the Thayan showed no signs of alarm or of movement beyond turning in midair to face his foe. His hands were moving again.
Aumlar's face tightened, and he bent his will to calling forth everything from the wands. Even the spellfire-wench couldn't handle much power flowing into her too swiftly, and if Pheldred was going to drain them all anyway…
The floating wizard started to glow, and his spellcasting gestures faltered and stiffened in pain.
Aumlar gave him back his own fierce, cruel smile, delighting in the first signs of pain and doubt in those dark, glittering eyes.
"Zhentarim dog!" Pheldred spat, his spell finished.
"Thayan worm," Aumlar replied mockingly, stepping swiftly sideways again. There had been no flash or crash yet, and he wasn't sure what this latest spell was supposed to accomplish – but in case it struck more swiftly than the still-solidifying spellblade, he didn't want to be standing immobile and so offering himself to it.
Something flickered at the corner of his eye, and he leaped in the opposite direction even before turning to look at it. The Red Wizard laughed as Aumlar landed hard on a heap of coffers and a keg and scrambled hastily upright again.
This new spell was a dark, spiraling force of some kind that had brushed the wagon walls at its forming.
Now it was tightening and shrinking rapidly as it spun, closing down around the only Zhentarim wizard in the wagon.
Aumlar slashed it to ribbons with three of the wands, spinning them around just for an instant to sever Pheldred's spell in three places, then sweeping them back to strike the Thayan again.
The floating Red Wizard gasped as the beams fired by the wands struck his shields once more. His body shuddered in the flickering heart of his diminishing defenses, and he groaned aloud. Then slowly – as if fighting to do so in the gathering radiance around him – he moved his hands in the gestures of yet another spell.
Aumlar cast a quick glance back at Pheldred's dark spiral, saw its last shreds fading away, and bent all his will on searing through the Thayan's shields before Pheldred could do anything else.
The glow around the floating man flared to painful brightness, and the Red Wizard seemed to be struggling in pain or to do something he just couldn't manage. A wand burst with the sort of explosion Aumlar had been dreading, but its racing force was sucked into the crackling force racing around Pheldred, and – The Red Wizard was suddenly spinning across the wagon, – screaming in pain, as bright, forces rushed everywhere, struck the wagon walls like waves crashing on rocks, and came racing back again to shock together in the bright heart of nothingness.
Pheldred was gone, teleported away to somewhere safer, scorched and hopefully worse. Aumlar