Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [61]
Night was coming down swiftly now, the last light fading from the still waters of the lake.
Then, suddenly, she saw him: a lone, dark figure walking steadily across the lake toward her-walking upon the waters as if they were a vast courtyard. He spent the spell to show her how powerful he was, powerful enough that he could afford to waste magic before a duel.
Aerindel turned slowly, her dark gown rustling about her hips, and wondered idly why she'd dressed in her best finery to meet her most hated enemy. Looking all around the hall, she raised her voice and said calmly to the unseen watchers, "Withdraw, all of you. Danger comes swiftly."
She turned back to the window in time to see Ram-mast Tarangar smile broadly in sardonic greeting, incline his head to her, and raise one hand.
The bright bolt that burst from it shattered the tall window from top to bottom, sending singing shards of glass flying down the chamber like scattered fragments of a rainbow.
The Lady of Dusklake did not flinch. "This a strange man," Aerindel observed, her voice calmer than it might have been, "whose wooing takes the form of battle."
Rammast stepped through the empty window frame and into the room, the tiny lightning of a warding spell flickering briefly about his shoulders. When no attack came, he glanced around the room, seeking warriors with ready weapons. Finding none, he smiled at her more broadly, advancing across the tiles at an insolent stroll.
"You are as beautiful as ever, my lady," he said to her through his smile, "and your tongue remains as cold and cruel as I recall. Yet tongues can be tamed, Aerindel."
"Ah, but can ambition also be tamed, Lord Rammast? I am not 'your lady;' not now, not ever. Yet I see no need not to be the ally of Grand Thentor. Our two realms can be friendly without our being wed… or my taking up the position you suggested."
Ramniast's eyes burned into hers. "Ah, but I believe you'll enjoy being my slave. You'll find me the most gentle and thoughtful of men-until I have two strong sons to be my heirs." He shrugged. "By then, of course, you may have grown weary of being my consort, or of being Lady of Dusklake, or even-who knows?-of life itself."
They both heard an angry gasp from behind a tapestry, as one of the warriors who'd refused to leave his lady wrestled with his temper. Rammast casually raised a hand and sent lightning crackling along that side of the room. In two places, down the long sweep of tapestries, forms stiffened, slid down the far side of the heavy cloth, and lay still.
The Lord of Grand Thentor raised an eyebrow. "Am I too late, Lady? Have you consorts already?"
Aerindel bit her lip, trembling in grief and rage, until she could master her words. He waited, smiling mockingly, until she opened her mouth deliberately and said, "In Dusklake we have laws against slaying, Lord Rammast-and you now stand in violation of those laws. Are you willing to submit to my justice, or is it to be war between us?"
Rammast raised his other eyebrow. "Are you threatening me?"
With the same casual ease as last time, he cast lightning along the other side of the hall, scarring hangings and statues alike. "Or do you just ache to see me on my knees?"
"It's a pose you've no doubt pictured me in often enough," Aerindel replied grimly, raising her own hands to weave a spell.
Rammast smiled broadly and, with a formal bow, beckoned her magic toward him. "I wondered how long you'd tremble and haw before loosing some of that vast and mighty magic all of us in the Esmeltaran talk about! Hurl away, bright lady!" He crossed his arms and stood waiting.
Roaring pinwheels of green flame were his reply, snarling out of the empty air around her slim fingers to fly at him, spinning and expanding.
Rammast stood unmoving as they reached him and burst-and for the briefest of moments Aerindel thought she could see their dying flashes through him.