The boy cast about in desperation. Where was Arcannen? He had created a distraction. Where was the sorcerer?
Abruptly, the big man released the chain, and the beast surged forward to attack the images. As they disintegrated under the force of its attack, it grew even more crazed, whipping this way and that in a futile effort to get its jaws around them as they surged past. It could see, smell and taste them; why couldn’t it touch them? Reyn sent two more, but he could feel his grip on things loosening. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable if Arcannen didn’t appear.
Then two further beasts surged out of the mist–things that looked to be a crossbreed of several species, not so big and imposing as the first, but dangerous nevertheless. They attacked the images, as well, caught up in the maddened behavior of the larger creature, and quickly the trio became mired in a frenzy of snapping and tearing at empty air and phantoms.
A shadowy figure emerged from off to his left, less imposing than the giant and the dog, but clearly a threat. Reyn dropped to one knee, trying to think what to do. The man was coming for him, running now, knives in both hands.
In desperation, he invoked a fresh image, shadowy and faint like the others but still real in appearance, and sent it charging toward the three beasts. The animals were on it at once, but their efforts to bring it down failed as Reyn caused it to veer sharply away before they reached it. Fleeing, with the animals in pursuit, the image folded itself about the man with the knives, and the two merged and became one. The man slowed, confused, aware that something had happened, brushing at his face so that if felt as if he had walked into a spiderweb. The merging was done so swiftly it would not have appeared real to humans; it would have seemed the trick it was. But to the beasts it was very real. Reacting instinctively and without hesitation, all three charged the image that had become the man and tore into it.
At the last moment, the man turned, realizing something was wrong, hands lifting his knives defensively. Too late. The largest beast was on him so fast he had no time to react. He was brought down instantly, screaming as the terrible jaws closed about his face and ripped it off. Arms and legs thrashed futilely, blood spraying everywhere. Tossing aside what it had savaged, the beast began tearing at what remained, joined by its companions. In mere seconds the man was reduced to a lifeless husk.
Kneeling in the mist–slickened rubble, Reyn cringed in dismay. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He had only been trying to divert the attack. He had just reacted. Arcannen had said he would be there to help him, to prevent him from killing anyone. But the sorcerer had failed him.
Now the first man was coming for him, a huge battle–ax raised overhead. He was like a juggernaut bearing down on the boy–massive and unstoppable. Reyn scrambled to his feet to face the giant, trying to conjure an image to deflect the attack. But panic enveloped him, freezing him in place, stripping away all control, all reason. There was no image that would save him from this.
Where was Arcannen now?
He began backing away, trying to escape, knowing immediately that he wouldn’t, that he was too slow. He cried out for Arcannen, knowing that this, too, was futile, that he couldn’t hear him and wouldn’t come …
Behind him the door to the passageway leading into Arcannen’s lair opened, and Lariana appeared, a vision that seemed born of another conjuring. She advanced through the opening and braced herself, arms extended, her small flash rip pointing.
“Get down, Reyn,” she called out to him.
He threw himself aside, the giant almost on top of him. Lariana’s weapon made a snapping noise–quick and piercing–and he caught a glimpse of strange fiery rope passing above him at tremendous speed. He heard the sound of an impact on flesh, and heard the giant grunt. When he looked, the huge man was down on his knees, his entire chest opened up as the flaming rope twisted around inside him like a live creature.
The giant’s eyes were glazed and staring as he pitched forward and lay still.
Reyn staggered up, and Lariana raced toward him. She flew into his arms and held him against her, and in that moment of gratitude and relief he knew with a certainty as sharp as a blade’s edge that he would never let her go.
TWENTY‑ONE
USURIENT WATCHED IT ALL HAPPEN FROM NOT TWENTY FEET away, crouched within the convenient pile of rubble behind which he had dropped during the first few seconds of the encounter. He had not once given any thought to going to the aid of Mallich or The Hammer; his common sense told him that they were likely not going to come out on the winning end.
He shuddered now, remembering what had just witnessed. The crince, freed from its chain, going after what appeared to be a ghost image that had attached itself to Mallich and led to his demise. He could still see the crince ripping its master to pieces, tearing at him until nothing recognizable was left. And then the oketar joining in on the frenzied feast, all of them become maddened and uncontrollable in a matter of seconds.
He glanced down at his hands. They were still shaking. He hadn’t been able to stop them from doing so. That boy. What sort of magic did he possess? How had he managed to turn those savage animals against Mallich? How had he managed it so easily?
He picked up the flash rip from where he had dropped it and tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white, forcing his hands to be still. This wasn’t over yet. He looked up to where the boy and the girl were still locked in an embrace, arms about each other, heads pressed close. The girl, he thought, was as dangerous as the boy, although her methods were more conventional. She carried a weapon even more advanced than his own, a prototype that was supposedly in no one’s hands but those of its developers. Clearly this was not the case, and he found himself wondering how many others were out there that shouldn’t be.
His gaze shifted momentarily to the inert form of The Hammer, sprawled face–forward in the rocks, lifeless. That girl had taken him down with two well–placed shots, either of which would have killed him. She was skilled with that weapon, and whatever she and the boy they were to each other, they were a formidable pair.
Would they come looking for him? Not even knowing he was there, would they decide to mount a search just to see if they had missed anyone? He could face them, he supposed. He could kill one or even both of them perhaps. But did he want any part of such an encounter? What was the point?
It was Arcannen he had come to find, and the sorcerer hadn’t made even the briefest appearance.
He watched the boy and the girl separate, moving apart but still holding hands, talking now, their voices too low to hear. In a moment they would be on the move. What was he going to do?
He watched the heavy fog momentarily enclose them in its folds. Now he could see the crince snarling at the oketar, driving them back as it dragged the remains of Mallich out of the rubble and into the rugged terrain inland, warning off its competitors. The oketar were snarling back, but even together they weren’t a match for the crince, so they made no move to attack as it hauled its kill into the rocks and disappeared. After giving momentary consideration to the boy and the girl and deciding that wasn’t worth the attempt, the oketar moved off as well.