Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [53]
"Wait, Corin. I see it again. In the corner. It's huge."
Corin couldn't see anything. "Where is it?" he tried to ask, but his words made no sound. More sorcery, he thought, we're sitting ducks!
The White Shields knew how to deal with wizards. Hit them hard, hit them fast, and hit them often. A desperate, all-out assault could usually keep a mage from using his powers. The relentless attacks disrupted their concentration and prevented them from casting spells. How could Corin attack what he couldn't even see?
With a soundless scream of rage and frustration, Corin threw himself into the crates and engulfing shadows. He struck with his sword, he kicked out with his boots, his knees and elbows smashed into wooden boxes and barrels and sent them flying. A silent rampage of destruction, intended to drive his unseen foe out of hiding.
Then he saw it, slithering from the darkness and into the light-toward Lhasha. Its serpentine body was at least a dozen feet long, and covered with gleaming black scales. Its head was an unnatural hybrid of human and snakelike features.
The beast reared up from the ground, towering over the half-elf as she fumbled to draw her dagger. Its fanged head struck straight down at the tiny thief with lightning speed. Lhasha threw herself to the side and the beast's jaws clamped down on empty air, then Corin was between them.
Corin had heard tales of such creatures before, snakes with human heads. A naga, it was called, but as he faced his adversary, Corin couldn't have cared less what the monstrosity was called.
The beast-hesitated before striking again, Corin could see the intelligence in its eyes. It was studying him, sizing up its foe before attacking. Corin was doing the same.
The naga's head swayed hypnotically from side to side as it evaluated him. Corin fought against his body's natural fascination with the soothing rhythm. He needed to stay alert. He couldn't allow the gentle swaying to lull him into a relaxed state.
The unnatural silence unnerved Corin. The familiar sounds of battle were absent, he felt as if he was fighting in a dream, as if things were not real. The silence distracted him, blurred his fighting instincts.
He needed to focus, to center his senses to compensate for the loss of sound, to keep himself sharp and aware in the noiseless vacuum, Corin keyed on the tiny visual details of the encounter.
The naga's eyes were yellow with narrow pupils of black. Its mouth was disproportionately large, like the unhinged jaw of a snake, and its fangs were long and sharp.
More importantly, the fangs were slightly curved-a good sign. Curved fangs were meant to grasp prey, to hold it and draw it into the mouth. Not like straight fangs. Straight fangs had only one purpose; to inject poison into a victim. Curved fangs, as fierce as they looked, were no more dangerous than a blade of the same size.
Corin was so intent on the creature's head that he almost didn't see the naga's tail lashing out at his legs. He skipped back, just out of range, then swung his sword high as the head swooped in for a quick second attack. The naga jerked its head back, narrowly avoiding the edge of Corin's blade. It retreated, and resumed the mesmerizing, snakelike swaying.
Cursing himself for being so careless, Corin faced his foe with a new respect for the danger of this encounter. He wasn't used to fighting monsters. Most of his career had been battles against other warriors. He knew to watch for the blades, the kicks, the head butts, but a tail was something unexpected, something new.
Carefully keeping the weaving head within the edges of his awareness, Corin turned his focus to the naga's tail. It tapered to a thin, barbed point. Drops of glistening moisture fell from the tip-poison! Corin noticed that while the head rocked from side to side, the poisonous tail moved with its own independent rhythm.
He wanted to attack,