[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

ivory-inlaid globe stand. Keithland rolled across the rug and the chamber
erupted into chaos.
"Treachery!" shouted Lord Sholl. He dove behind his stout oaken chair just as
the tapestries slithered into heaps, revealing arrowslits cut through the
stone walls behind. A storm of shafts flickered past the arched windows. The
royal chief advisor rammed face-first into oak, pinned by an arrow through his
back. The Grand Warlord-General slipped to the floor beside him, his mouth
stretched wide in surprise. The advisor's flesh crumpled before his eyes,
melting into a form not recognizable as human; but sorcery blazed above the
dais, dazzling his vision before the change was complete. He died still
wondering whether a demon had shared his salt.
Shielded by the crackling blaze of Tathagres' conjuring, Emien crouched in
terror, while on the dais around him the royal council members slumped in
their seats, struck down by enemy arrows. Since the Thienz' first cry, his
mistress had leaped to her feet, her hands clenched over the band at her
throat. She raised a crackling arch of light over the King. Any shaft which
touched it exploded into sparks. But the rest of the arrows hissed to their
marks with grisly accuracy; in seconds, Emien, Kisburn and Tathagres became
the sole survivors amid a slaughtered circle of officials. Yet she dared not
relax her defenses. The archers continued to fire.
Page 201
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"All is not lost," said Tathagres urgently. "Help get the King to safety."
Unearthly reflections flickered across her face, spangling her jewels in
light. Immersed in her wardspell, Emien felt currents of energy tingle across
his skin. Ozone stung his nos-trils. Suddenly exhilarated by his narrow escape
from death, the boy caught the royal wrist and urged the stunned King of
Kisburn to rise.
"You must walk, your Grace." Tathagres gestured toward the anteroom. "Outside
I can summon the Gierj. Hurry."
The King rallied scattered wits. Shafts banged and clattered across the
marble floor, deflected by Tathagres' sorcery. Seiz-ing the chance for
survival, Kisburn permitted Emien to hustle him down the dais steps. Tathagres
followed on their heels, still conjuring. The attackers switched to spears.
Energy crack-led and whined overhead, devouring wood and steel with seemingly
endless appetite. The party crossed the hall at a run.
Carnage met them before they reached the door, as guards posted in the
anteroom belatedly acted in their King's defense. Men charged in disciplined
formation, shields raised over their heads. But the tasteless opulence of the
Kielmark's decor was designed to foil attack. The lines broke into muddled
knots as men dodged between tables and chests. A lampstand toppled with a
screeching crash and swords tangled in statuary. The archers slaughtered
rescuers at leisure.
The King shouted and extended his arm toward an injured officer.
"Prevent him," Tathagres said quickly. "We can't stop here."
Her violet eyes raked the King with ruthless calculation; she meant the King
no kindness, Emien observed. He gripped the royal tunic with bruising force.
Thin shoulders jerked under the velvet. Emien knew a thrill of excitement.
Never before had a man born to power suffered discomfort at his hands. He
shoved the King toward the door. Kisburn stumbled gracelessly forward. Emien
followed, stepping callously on the fingers of the officer who thrashed on the
floor. With Tathagres a step behind, he plunged through the arch into the
anteroom, beyond range of enemy weapons.
The heavy iron-bound panels beyond were closed,barred from without, cornering
them like mice in a culvert. Emien whirled. He yelled warning, just as the
archway leading to the hall exploded in a burst of red light.
Tathagres spoke through the glare. "Move aside.Hurry!"
She intended to break the doors with sorcery. Emien dove clear, dragging the
King by the collar. The spell blazed at his heels. Shadows streaked the
anteroom floor, spattered across with sparks, and the panels sagged on their
hinges. Wood and steel unravelled into smoke, rendered ineffective as the
weap-ons set against them in the main hall. But when Tathagres followed the
King through the gap, she lacked her usual lithe grace. Use of sorcery taxed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]