"As representatives of the honourable politicians in this city, you make a sorry pair. An obese, drunken Investigator and a treacherous criminal Sorcerer." She holds up the letter. "For blackmailing a Prince. The opening price is ten thousand gurans. Who'd like to make an offer?" #51 в контекст | | |
Glixius Dragon Killer has no intention of bidding. He raises his hand to fire a spell at her. Seconds later he is tossed to the ground and lies stunned. His spell has rebounded on him. Another rainbow-clad figure floats gently down from the top of the arch. #52 в контекст | | |
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"Tas of the Eastern Lightning," I reply. "Looks like Palace Security are getting in on the act at last." #54 в контекст | | |
I'm expecting Tas to wrest the letter from Sarin and possibly send her crashing into a wall with a spell for good measure. What he actually does is stroll over and kiss her lightly on the cheek. Makri and I look on in amazement as she kisses him back. #55 в контекст | | |
"No wonder he said he couldn't find her. They're in league now." #56 в контекст | | |
"Indeed we are," booms Tas, a tall man with long brown hair tumbling down over his rainbow cloak. #57 в контекст | | |
"What's the matter with these Sorcerers in Turai?" I snarl, cursing them all. "If they're not dwa addicts or drunks, then they're psychotic criminals." #58 в контекст | | |
"Lucky you never finished your studies," whispers Makri, eyeing the pair warily. "Is Tas more powerful than you?" #59 в контекст | | |
"Like a tiger compared to a rat. Try not to upset him. Remember what happened to Mirius Eagle Rider." #60 в контекст | | |
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I offer her the ten thousand gurans. Glixius Dragon Killer hauls himself to his feet and swears a savage oath. He fires up another spell and Tas bounces it right back, sending Glixius thudding to the ground again. It's a sight I enjoy. I'd kick him while he's down but I haven't the time. #62 в контекст | | |
"It seems you are the only bidder, Thraxas," says Sarin. "Very well, ten thousand gurans to you." #63 в контекст | | |
Sarin holds out the letter. I hold out the bag of gold. The transaction is interrupted by a bolt of lightning which sears into the ground between us, sending everyone flying. I land on my back, staring stupidly at the sky. Just discernible in the darkness is the vast shape of a war dragon, something not seen this far west since the war ended fifteen years ago. Its nostrils are red with fire and riding atop the beast is the crazed figure of Horm the Dead, long black hair and feather jewellery flying in the wind. His shrill voice cuts through the night. #64 в контекст | | |
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Tas of the Eastern Lightning climbs calmly to his feet. "Not yours, Horm the Dead." #66 в контекст | | |
With that Tas unleashes a spell that sends the dragon spinning through the sky, screaming with rage and bafflement. #67 в контекст | | |
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We're impressed. Horm the Dead and a war dragon obviously hold no terrors for Tas of the Eastern Lightning. Horm regains control and flies back overhead. #69 в контекст | | |
"Save your energy, Tas of the Eastern Lightning," shouts Horm. "I haven't come for the letter, or the gold, or to fight with you, though one day I will kill you at my leisure." #70 в контекст | | |
"At your leisure," shouts Tas. "Then why have you come?" #71 в контекст | | |
"To destroy your city, and all the Humans in it who I have found so annoying of late. Humans such as yourself, Thraxas." #72 в контекст | | |
Horm the Dead starts to intone a spell. A very long spell, in Orcish, never before heard in the world. He completes his incantation, waves us a mocking farewell, then wheels his dragon up and away into the night. We all stare at each other. Nothing seems to be happening. #73 в контекст | | |
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Tas of the Eastern Lightning looks very grim. He takes Sarin's hand. "Get the gold. It's time to go. #75 в контекст | | |
That was the city-devouring spell. The Eight-Mile Terror. Horm has remade it. Madness will now grip the population. Turai is going to be destroyed." #76 в контекст | | |
I should know better than to aggravate these mad half-Orc Sorcerers. You never know when they might come and destroy your city. #77 в контекст | | |
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"You're wearing a protective necklace," says Tas. "So am I. But the population isn't." #79 в контекст | | |
Outside a low murmuring is growing in intensity. We run from the Stadium Superbius and are confronted with the terrible sight of the city starting to burn. Yellow flames leap into the sky to meet the first rays of dawn. Sarin holds out the letter. #80 в контекст | | |
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I make the transaction, though what use it'll be once Turai succumbs to the flames of madness I don't know. Glixius Dragon Killer runs up behind me and tries to snatch the letter out of my hand. Sarin the Merciless executes a faultless kick to his head, worthy indeed of a trained warrior monk, and Glixius slumps unconscious to the ground. #82 в контекст | | |
"A bad mistake to double-cross me," she mutters. She takes out a knife and bends over him. I think she's going to finish him off but instead, with a malicious grin, she slits his protective charm and takes it from his neck. #83 в контекст | | |
"Happy awakenings," she says, putting her arm round Tas's waist. Tas mutters a spell and they rise into the air. #84 в контекст | | |
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"I believe Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, was working on a counterspell to Horm's Eight-Mile Terror," calls Tas, now high above us. "She might be able to save you all, if she can stay awake long enough." #86 в контекст | | |
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"Why wouldn't Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, be able to stay awake?" #88 в контекст | | |
"She's always stoned. Smokes her thazis through a big water pipe." #89 в контекст | | |
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We run. Behind us Glixius screams like a maniac and starts bellowing out spell after spell, far more than he could possibly retain in his memory in normal circumstances. Statues start falling from plinths and walls explode in flame as the now insane sorcerer vents his wrath on the world. #92 в контекст | | |
"That Sarin is a mean woman!" I gasp, as we dive for the safety of the nearest buildings. "I don't give much for Tas's chances once he's outlived his usefulness." #93 в контекст | | |
All of a sudden we're surrounded by demented citizens waving clubs and swords and attacking anything that moves. An old woman with a stick charges at Makri. Makri boots her out the way but is obliged to gut a huge northern mercenary who flies at her with a battle axe. We flee into an alleyway and leap the wall at the end, seeking safety, though nowhere is safe. Between us and every city gate is a crowd driven mad by Horm the Dead's evil spell. #94 в контекст | | |
A hand appears from nowhere and grabs Makri. She disappears with a yelp into a doorway. I plunge after her and find her in the grip of a small dark figure. It's Hanama, Master Assassin. #95 в контекст | | |
"Oh God, not a mad Assassin," I cry, and leap at her throat. Hanama side-steps neatly and I thump against the wall. #96 в контекст | | |
"Not a mad Assassin," says Hanama coolly, and fingers her own protective necklace, made from the same Red Elvish Cloth as mine. #97 в контекст | | |
I don't know if this meeting is a coincidence or if Hanama has been following us. With the city starting to self-destruct there is no time to think about it. #98 в контекст | | |
The Assassin scans the crowd with distaste. "My guild dislikes too much social unrest," she says. #99 в контекст | | |
"Some discontent is good for business, but too much always spoils things." #100 в контекст | | |
