She looked around, realizing she was still in the corridor where she had started and ended the Test. There was no sign of Kalrakin or his accomplice, but she sensed they wouldn't be far away. Tentatively, she started along the hall, heading away from the stairway.
That is when magic convulsed behind her. Coryn immediately sensed the explosive power of an attack. Kalrakin's sorcery exploded, sweeping down the corridor toward her backside in a wave of lethal power.
Her response came to her lips instinctively, emerging calmly and quickly, instantaneously guiding her out of the path of the violent blast of sorcery. This was not a teleport spell, however-though that could have carried her anywhere in the world that she wanted to go, she was not prepared to leave the Tower, to abandon it to this abominable intruder.
Instead, a newly confident Coryn chose to give battle.
"Arastia-disp-lasr!"
She found herself standing safely just a few dozen feet away and now on the other side of Kalrakin. He spun furiously, his beard and long hair whirling around with a contorted expression. He lunged for her.
"Bitch!" he snarled, the white stone glowing against his palm in his extended hand.
The command for the haste spell burst, almost unbidden, from Coryn's lips. Immediately the speed of the sorcerer's charge appeared to slow down. Though he still ran and reached for her, his limbs moved as if they churned through molasses or viscous oil. Meanwhile the girl sprinted down the corridor, her moccasins skidding on the smooth stones. Wind whistled in her ears as she flew like a rabbit, darting around the corner.
She heard Kalrakin screaming something behind her, the sounds deep and inarticulate-and then the stones under her feet started to shift and writhe, and she fell, slamming hard into the wall at the end of the corridor.
He followed her, moving in apparent slow motion, even as the haste spell helped her to react speedily. She shook off her pain and tumbled onto the stairway, rolling to her feet and running down the spiraling steps.
Abruptly, a stone flew from the wall, swishing past her head, exploding into shards when it smashed into the opposite wall. She had to dodge as another and then a third piece of masonry, shot outward. All down the spiraling stair, the curving wall erupted erratically, spewing out potentially lethal missiles. Kalrakin, despite his "slowness," was close behind-he must have somehow counteracted her haste spell with one of his own.
She whispered another magical word, cloaking herself in a blanket of invisibility as she shrank against the wall. Looking at her hands-or rather, at where her hands were supposed to be-Coryn saw straight through to the floor. Holding her breath, she pressed herself out of the way, though she feared the pounding of her heart would betray her. It took all of her courage not to flinch or scream as the maniacal sorcerer caught up to her…
… and raced right past, his face locked in that expression of insane fury, jaw clenched, teeth bared, eyes flashing hatred above his jutting nose and tangled beard. He moved with unnatural speed, now, his long legs covering four or five stairs with each stride. Howls of inarticulate rage exploded from his lips, and his gaunt body seemed to tremble uncontrollably.
Only when he had rounded the next bend and disappeared from view did Coryn dare to draw a breath. Then she heard more steps coming from above and knew the second sorcerer was coming. Again she froze as Luthar lumbered past. His movements were unnaturally slow, which confirmed that Kalrakin was being aided by a haste spell. It was more wild magic, and she hated the thought that Kalrakin was defiling the godly purpose of this tower.
With each act of destruction, each spell of wild magic, each and every stone torn from the floor and walls, the evil wizard willfully inflicted terrible suffering upon the Tower. The Master was right: Kalrakin was an abomination, a corruption, a cancer. More than that, he had become Coryn's personal enemy, the first person she had ever hated with a passion.
And now, clad in her pristine white robe, Coryn felt a flush of proprietorship about this hallowed place. Kalrakin was not just her enemy, he was the enemy of all that godly magic stood for, all she, newly confirmed by the Test, swore to protect. It was not enough to drive him out, she realized-he must be slain. Her fury coalesced into cold purpose, and she found another word entering her mind, an arcane command that brought with it images of incendiary explosion and searing, fiery death. She could cast that spell, watch the flames engulf the gaunt, bearded figure of her enemy, and know that this served a true, noble purpose. Her benign god, gentle Solinari, heartily approved her lethal goal and the deadly nature of her spell.
"Where did she go?" Kalrakin screamed shrilly. He was coming back up the stairs, now, snarling to Luthar, tramping behind. The wizard emerged into sight at the bend of the stairway as she inched back up the steps. Deliberately kicking at pieces of rubble scattered around her, Coryn sent pebbles cascading, and the wild sorcerer halted, staring ahead intently.
"There you are, you little fool," he sneered. "Did you really think you could evade me? Did you think that such a pathetic mask-invisibility? — could hide you, as wise in magical deception as I am?"
"I don't intend to evade you," Coryn said loudly and boldly, "or hide from you." She let the invisibility spell fall away from her like a piece of clothing she was shrugging off. She wanted Kalrakin to see her, wanted him to understand what was happening to him, wanted him to know his punisher.
"I intend to kill you!" she declared with cold fury.
The gray-robed wizard raised an eyebrow, and chuckled disbelievingly. But she raised her finger, pointed at him, and spoke the command word for the fireball spell. It rolled from her tongue, pulsed in the air around her, sizzled with the tremendous, fundamental power of godly magic. Kalrakin must have heard that word before-for his eyes instantly grew wide, and he threw his hands up to protect his face, tumbling backward down the steps. He screamed and writhed, trying to ward off the inevitable.
A bubble of fiery light appeared at Coryn's fingertip. The little sphere danced and drifted toward the cringing wizard. Suddenly, Kalrakin looked up, his eyes flashing, and his mouth curling into a cruel grin. He regained his poise, stood, and faced her, holding up the white stone that he had remembered was his advantage. It pulsed eagerly, hungrily. The talisman was firmly clenched in the sorcerer's grip, as the fireball exploded.
The release of power felt like a physical rush, to Coryn, draining energy from her body and channeling it into the lethal spell. Coryn expected to see the wizard, struck by such power, vanish within an incendiary cloud.
But he did not die, nor did any great fire materialize. Instead, the sorcerer howled in triumph, clenching his fist. Smoke billowed between his fingers as the surface of his skin took on a surreal, almost sun-bright, glow. And then the spell was over, and Kalrakin was leering at her through his beard, holding up his glowing hand in a gesture of scorn. The stone was hot and bright in his hand, taunting her with its superior might.
Coryn gaped in astonishment. For several seconds she could not believe her impotence; her magical powers had been so effective, so unfailing, during the full course of the Test, that she had never considered the possibility of failure. She had executed the spell correctly, but Kalrakin-or rather, his white talisman-somehow had thwarted the effect.