Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [184]
An‘desha was on his feet now as he tried to push past Karal. Karal shoved him back rudely, not letting him leave the tent, and evidently it never occurred to him that he could just turn and slash his way through the walls to get away. An’desha backed up a pace, and Karal shoved him again, getting right up close and shouting into his face.
“You are a spineless, lazy, selfish coward, An’desha,” he spat. “You’ve been playing the poor little wounded bird for too long! I have had quite enough of this, and so has everyone else! It is about time you started doing something to help, instead of whining about how afraid you are! We’re all afraid, or hadn’t you noticed? I was afraid, when Celandine nearly killed me, but you didn’t see me whining about it, did you? You don’t hear Firesong whining about how exhausted he is, even though he is working on shields until he is gray in the face!”
An’desha’s face had flushed to a full, rich crimson.
But he wasn’t angry enough yet, and Karal kept right at him.
“You don’t hear Darkwind whining about how put-upon he is, even though his shoulder still isn’t healed and he is working night and day with the other mages! It’s time to stop whining and start doing something, An’desha—or go find someone else to whine at, because we are all tired of you!”
An’desha’s face was contorted out of all recognition, but Karal continued the verbal abuse, continuing to attack him for being cowardly, selfish, and spoiled.
An’desha’s hands were clenched at his sides, and he stood as rigidly as a tent pole—
—and there were colors swirling around those clenched fists; brilliant scarlets and explosive yellows, mage energies that, if they were visible to him, were probably quite potent enough to flatten an entire building.
He’d seen Ulrich strike down something by magic once, and the powers gathering around An’desha’s hands right now were twice, perhaps three times as bright.
He wanted to run. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn and flee. Every hair on his head felt as if it was standing straight on end from the power in this little space.
But instead of fleeing, he did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life; harder than facing Celandine, harder than coming to this strange land in the first place.
He stepped back a pace, spread his hands, and sneered.
“Well?” he taunted. “I’m right, aren’t I? I’m right, and you’re too spineless even to admit it!”
And he waited for An’desha to strike, still holding that merciless sneer on his face.
The air hummed with power; he’d read of such things, but he’d never experienced it. Now every hair on his head did stand straight on end—
And An’desha’s control finally exploded.
“Damn you!” An’desha screamed. “Damn you!”
There was a flash of orange and white, and the energy dissipated, draining away into the ground so quickly that in one breath it was completely gone.
An‘desha collapsed down onto his pallet, folding up as if he was completely exhausted, his face pale and pained. “Damn you,” he repeated dully, as Karal dropped down to his side in concern and a fear that he’d managed somehow to make An’desha burn himself out. “Damn you, Priest, you’re right.”
He looked up, as Karal tentatively touched his shoulder, eyes bleak. “You’ve been coddling me, and I’ve been unforgivably selfish.”
Karal grinned, which obviously astonished him, for An‘desha gaped at him. “I’m right twice,” he pointed out. “I told you that you were underestimating yourself, believing that because you have the memories of a Falconsbane or a Ma’ar, you also have their ways. You thought that if you ‘lost control’ of an emotion, you’d lose control of everything. Well. You lost control of your temper, didn’t you? You were afraid to learn everything that lay in your old memories, because you were afraid that if you got too angry with someone, you’d use it. You just got angry, and there you are, after doing nothing more than curse me—and here I am, unsinged, unflattened. Falconsbane would