So I took over the Sign of the Logrus and ran the line of disruption back upon itself in a great circle, like a dark moat surrounding us.
“Banish it now,” he said, and I did.
Still, the winds and the sounds continued to rage, and I could not see beyond the dark wall which seemed to be advancing slowly upon us from all sides.
“Obviously, the limiting factor has yet to be achieved,” I observed.
He chuckled. “You’re right. Even though you stopped, you exceeded a certain critical limit, so that it is now running wild.”
“Oh,” I said. “How long till those natural limitations you mentioned dampen it?”
“Sometime after it has completely annihilated the area on which we stand,” he said.
“It is receding in all directions as well as heading this way?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. What is the critical mass?”
“I’ll have to show you. But we’d better find a new place first. This one is going away. Take my hand.”
I did, and he conducted me to another shadow. This time I summoned the Chaos and conducted the operations while he observed. This time I did not let it run wild.
When I had finished and I stood, shaken, staring into a small crater I had caused, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me, “As you knew in theory, that is the ultimate power behind your spells. Chaos itself. To work with it directly is dangerous. But, as you have seen, it can be done. Now you know it, your training is complete.”
It was more than impressive. It was awesome. And for most situations I could visualize it was rather like using nukes for skeet shooting. Offhand, I couldn’t think of any circumstances under which I would care to employ the technique, until Victor Melman really pissed me off.
Power, in its many shapes, varieties, sizes and styles, continues to fascinate me. It has been so much a part of my life for so long that I feel very familiar with it, though I doubt that I will ever understand it fully.
Chapter 10
“It’s about time,” I said, to whatever lurked in the shadows. The sound that followed was not human. It was a low snarl. I wondered what manner of beast I confronted. I was certain an attack was imminent, but it did not come. Instead the growl died down, and whatever it was spoke again.
“Feel your fear,” came the whisper.
“Feel your own,” I said, “while you still can.”
The sounds of its breathing came heavy. The flames danced at my back. Smoke had drawn as far away across the campsite as his lengthy tether permitted.
“I could have killed you while you slept,” it said slowly.
“Foolish of you not to,” I said. “It will cost you.”
“I want to look at you, Merlin,” it stated. “I want to see you puzzled. I want to see your fear. I want to see your anguish before I see your blood.”
“Then I take it this is a personal rather than a business matter?”
There came a strange noise which it took me several moments to interpret as an inhuman throat trying to manage a chuckle.
Then, “Let us say that, magician,” it responded. “Summon your Sign and your concentration will waver. I will know it and will rend you before you can employ it.”
“Kind of you to warn me.”
“I just wanted to foreclose that option in your thinking. The thing wound about your left wrist will not help you in time either.”
“You have good vision.”
“In these matters, yes.”
“You wish perhaps to discuss the philosophy of revenge with me now?”
“I am waiting for you to break and do something foolish, to increase my pleasure. I have limited your actions to the physical, so you are doomed.”
“Keep waiting, then,” I said.
There was a sound of movement within the brush as something drew nearer. I still could not see it, though. I took a step to my left then, to allow firelight to reach that darkened area. At that, something shone, low. The light was reflected, yellow, from a single glaring eye.
I lowered the point of my weapon, directing it toward the eye. What the hell. Every creature I know of tries to protect its eyes.
“Banzai!” I cried, as I lunged. The conversation seemed to have stagnated, and I was anxious to get on to other matters.
It rose instantly and with great power and speed rushed toward me, avoiding my thrust. It was a large, black, lop-eared wolf, and it slipped past a frantic slash I managed and went straight for my throat.
My left forearm came up automatically and I thrust it forward into the open jaws. At the same time, I brought the hilt of my blade across and slammed it against the side of its head. At this, the clamping force of the bite loosened even as I was home over backward, but the grip remained, penetrating shirt and flesh. And I was turning and pulling before I hit the ground, wanting to land on top, knowing I wouldn’t.
I landed on my left side, attempting to continue the roll, and added another belt of the pommel to the side of the beast’s skull. It was then that fortune favored me, for a change, when I realized that we lay near the lip of my fire pit and were still turning in that direction. I dropped my weapon and sought its throat with my right hand. It was heavily muscled, and there was no chance of crushing the windpipe in time. But that was not what I was after.
My hand went up high and back beneath the lower jaw, where I commenced squeezing with all my strength. I scrabbled with my feet until I found purchase and then pushed with my legs as well as my arms. Our movement continued the short distance necessary to push its snarling head back into the fire.
For a moment nothing happened save the steady trickle of blood from my forearm into its mouth and out again. The grip of its jaws was still strong and painful.
Seconds later, my arm was released as the fur of its neck and head caught fire and it struggled to draw away from the flames. I was thrust aside as it rose and pulled free, an ear-piercing howl rising from its throat. I rolled to my knees and raised my hands, but it did not come at me again. Instead, it rushed past me into the woods in the opposite direction from which it had come.
I snatched up my blade and took off after it. No time to pause and pull on my boots; I was able to shapeshift the soles of my feet a bit to toughen them against the litter and irregularity of the forest floor. My adversary was still in sight, for its head still smoldered; though I might have been able to follow just from the howling, which was almost continuous. And strangely, the tone and character of the howls was changing, sounding more and more like human cries and less like the complaint of a wolf. Strangely, too, the beast was fleeing with something less than the speed and guile I would have expected from one of its kind. I heard it crashing through the shrubbery and running into trees. On several of these latter occasions, it even emitted sounds that seemed to bear the pattern of human cursing. So I was able to stay closer to it than I had any reason to expect, even gaining on it somewhat after the first few minutes.
Then, suddenly, I realized its apparent destination. I saw again that pale light I had noted earlier — brighter now and its source larger, as we moved toward it. Roughly rectangular in shape, I judged it as being eight or nine feet in height, perhaps five in width. I forgot about hacking the wolf by ear and headed for the light. That had to be its goal, and I wanted to reach it first.
I ran on. The wolf was ahead of me and to my left. Its hair had ceased to blaze now, though it still snarled and yipped as it rushed along. Before us, the light grew brighter still, and I was able to see into it — through it and distinguish some of its features for the first time. I saw a hillside with a low stone building upon it, approached by a flagged walkway and a series of stone steps — framed like a picture within the rectangle — hazy at first, but coming clearer with each step. It was a cloudy afternoon within the picture, and the thing stood about twenty meters away now, in the midst of a clearing.