Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [116]
Yet as Storm fought on through the abyss that had once been a part of Bane, silver hair swirling, she felt herself becoming slowly and inevitably as dark and serpentine and cruel as her foe, using her mind as viciously as he was using his-to slash and hack.
It seemed she was striking nearer and nearer to the oldest memories, and to the roiling rot of true madness. Madness had mastered him again and again in raging bouts of gibbering uncontrol. If not for madness- be would have won an easy victory over her in Firefall Keep. She fought closer to the shame and the trembling fear he so hated, that made him seek tyranny over others. This fear tasted like the tang of iron in blood, but came from a place weirdly different than Faerun. The mortal who had become Bane, so long ago, had come from… somewhere else, and still had secrets that he was fighting wildly to keep from her, secrets that he would keep hidden at all costs.
At all costs… there was a sudden red roiling of disgusting, elongated internal human organs, bloated and wriggling, as the foe mentally turned himself inside out-and burned. He was slaying himself, to keep from yielding to her. He was dying utterly at last. He was… gone, a drifting wisp of smoke in the heart of the leaping silver fire.
The silver fire reached to a brightness above, a brightness that was calling Storm. She reached for it and rose to it… and slowly, very slowly, the light above her drew nearer.
Through her weary daze. Storm became increasingly ashamed of how twisted and besmeared the battle had left her. Yet she had prevailed, and was rising toward the light. New visions were coming.
Visions that had the warm, somehow brown feeling of Broglan's mind-visions of her beauty, impish outrageousness, and courage, laced about with awe and growing love. Faithfully, doggedly, and continuously replaying the vivid scenes that awoke in him both lust and love, Broglan was thinking of her.
The fouled, rising shadow seized on that anchor, and was suddenly Storm once more.
She saw the Realms around her again, and felt breezes moving over her body and something hard under her feet. She turned to look at Broglan, silver flames darting from her eyes.
Startled, the war wizard stepped back and raised his hands to cast a spell if need be. His brow was dark with worry.
"Are you Storm?" Broglan asked gravely, almost formally, "or-someone else?"
She gave him a weak smile, and her eyes became the silver-laced blue he remembered. "I am Storm Silverhand," she said slowly, "thanks in large part to you, Broglan."
She looked over her shoulder. The body of Maxer was lying on a bed of silver flames. His face was peaceful, his hands at his sides, and his eyes closed. Storm bit her Up, turned back to the watching wizard, and took two quick strides forward.
Thank you," she said fervently, as their lips met Her next impassioned words were silent echoes in his mind. Oh, Broglan, thank you. All the time you wrestled against loving me and then surrendered to it, and loved me, and aided me, and never forced yourself on me or demanded anything in return The Lady needs more men like you. I needed you, though we were not for each other. I still need you. I revere you. Then from her mind a gentle touch of silver fire reached out, and Broglan felt pleasure greater than he ever had before. It raised him up, gasping, to trembling heights of bliss. He was suddenly intensely aware of the beautiful woman he held in his arms, her bare skin against him in a hundred places, her sweet lips touching his own eagerly.
It was suddenly too much, and he murmured and broke free, feeling wild elation-and rising fear.
Broglan shook his head slightly as he gazed at her tears in his eyes. When she reached for him again, he shuddered involuntarily and backed away, raising his hands to ward off danger.
She halted, and he looked at her in horror-horror at himself White-faced, he looked slowly down at his treacherous hands and then back up at her, ashamed.
Storm