by Ed Greenwood
"Lorontar," the ravaged wizard agreed, strolling slowly across the tiles. "I've been hiding in the mind of the one called Taeauna for a long time, now. Now this body is mine, though I'm afraid the mind of Malraun is… broken."
He smiled a wide and crooked smile. "So I believe I'll have your body, now. Worry not; I have no intention of smashing your mind as I did Malraun's. It's far too valuable to me. I'll just enslave it instead."
"Oh?" Rod asked, backing away. "You want to write crappy fantasy novels?"
Lorontar's smile was almost pitying. "Once I have your dream-powers," he explained gently, as if addressing a small child, "two worlds will be mine to rule."
Then there was a sudden weight in Rod's head, a merciless surge of power that smashed into Rod Everlar.
He gasped, or thought he did, as amber fire raced over him and through him and-
The fire wavered and split, Rod felt pain and confusion that was not his own swirling over him… and-
Lorontar's mind was hurt, mentally staggering. Rod fought not to be buried under sudden floods of memories not his and emotions that threatened to drench him in darkness.
Taeauna had thrust at Lorontar from behind with all her fury and hatred, through the still-open link, and had struck deep.
The body that had belonged to Malraun fell on its face, clawing feebly at the tiles and working its legs as if still upright and running. Through its open mouth came a strange, incoherent sound.
Rod could run again, and he turned and did so, slipping and sliding in rubble and crying out, "Taeauna? Taeauna?"
There was no reply.
He found himself at the head of a staircase, now open to the sky and half-choked with a shattered roof that until quite recently had sheltered it. Looking back, he saw that Malraun-Lorontar-was on his feet and staggering blindly after him, arms outthrust like some sort of mindless walking corpse.
He could hardly help but see something else, too.
In the sky overhead, almost blotting out the bright morning light with their great bulk, were six greatfangs. Three of them were larger than the rest, and the two biggest were…
Holy Falcon!
. . twice as large as Malragard had been.
They looked angry, their wings beating with furious haste and their jaws snapping often, biting at the air as they circled over the ruins, eyes glaring down at Rod Everlar.
Then the largest of them all rolled its great shoulders, tucked in its wings, and plunged down out of the skies in a long, terrible dive, great jaws parting.
The fire was back in Rod's mind again, faint but furious, roiling up to make his arms and legs tremble.
He fought to step forward, to hurl himself down that staircase. His head was turning, despite himself, to look back and see the staggering thing that had been Malraun come lumbering closer, reaching for him…
With an angry shriek of his own he fought off Lorontar's will long enough to turn his head the other way.
The jaws rushing down to engulf him looked as large and dark as the night sky, now.
Closer… closer…
Rod Everlar wrestled for control of his own body, trying to fling himself down the stair, and wondering if he'd get to safety in time.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-fc5ac5-2a6a-ce48-c58c-8be8-fe6a-b780af
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 01.02.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.37, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Ed Greenwood
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