Realms of Valor - James Lowder [91]
“I don't care about your sorcery,” Tyveris lied. “It has no effect on me.” He watched her calculating eyes drift to his sword. Despite her cool demeanor, he could see a faint flicker of anxiety race across her features. “I am here for the Tear of Everard.” “So it appears,” Kelshara replied acidly. “Toz! Bring my new treasure to me.” The kobold scurried out of a darkened alcove bearing a small box of finely wrought gold. Kelshara snatched the box from the creature's gnarled hands. “You are slow, as always, Toz,” she snapped. Almost casually she pointed a finger at the kobold, and a spark of crimson fire leaped forth, striking the creature in the chest and flinging it into the chamber's wall. The kobold let out a shrill shriek and cowered against the cold stones, its eyes pulsing in pain. Kelshara ignored her servant. She opened the box and took out a gem, clear and glittering. The Tear of Everard. “All men perish,” she hissed. “But I have found the secret of eternal life.” She clutched the stone tightly. “You will die this night, warrior. But I shall live forever.” Tyveris lunged forward, sword before him. Kelshara gave a small cry of surprise, taking a startled step backward, but even as Tyveris lifted his sword for a killing blow she recovered her composure. She reached out a hand toward the warrior's heart as strange, guttural words rippled like dark water from her tongue. An invisible hand clutched Tyveris, and he found that he couldn't breathe. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and his vision blurred. Slowly, shivering with cold, he sank to his knees. It was as if all warmth had been drained from him. He could even see it, like a trail of sparks on the air, flowing from his body into Kelshara's own. The necromancer laughed, her cheeks blushed with color. She was draining the essence of his life and drinking it up, making it her own. Tyveris tried to shout, but the sound was barely a whisper. He struggled to move, but his limbs seemed to be made of lead. Suddenly a voice hissed, “That is the last time you will ever strike me-or anyone.” Kelshara turned to gaze at the kobold in surprise, but the magical stream still flowed toward her. Tyveris found it hard to concentrate, and the room started to tilt and spin before his eyes. From amongst the rags of its filthy tunic the kobold drew a dark, jagged-edge knife. “Once I was strong and handsome-like him,” Toz spat, his voice oozing malice. “And then you gave me this ... this twisted form. And the pain. For too long I've suffered the pain of serving you.” The kobold's eyes flared with countless years of spite now unleashed. “But I will suffer it no more, Kelshara. I will suffer you no more.” The kobold lifted the knife and took a menacing step toward the necromancer. “Halt!” Kelshara cried, lifting a hand. Toz shuddered to a stop. He grunted, trying to bring the dagger down in a deadly arc, but his hand merely trembled, frozen. The necromancer laughed cruelly. “Foolish Toz. Do you forget the magic that binds you to obey me? Then allow me to remind you.” She made a slashing
motion with her hand, and Toz gurgled in pain. As though he were some fantastical marionette, the kobold moved to mirror the necromancer's motion, plunging the knife into his own chest. The kobold howled once in agony, then slumped motionless into a growing pool of black, foul-smelling blood. Kelshara gazed at her servant with fierce satisfaction. And in that moment of distraction her attack against Tyveris wavered. The magical force draining the warrior's life flickered and vanished. Warmth flooded back into his limbs. He felt weak, strangely hollow, but he was alive. Kelshara turned to him, a startled look on her face, realizing her spell was broken. She lifted her arms to entrap him once again, but this time he did not give her the chance. He sprang forward, slamming the sorceress into the wall,