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.
Kalrakin raised his fist. Pearly light gleamed between his fingers, as if the pale gemstone were afire. He climbed back up the stairs, toward Coryn. She pointed a finger at him, snapped out a command, and felt another rush of energy as a powerful, crackling lightning bolt erupted from her flesh, arrowing toward the wild sorcerer. Searing magic crackled- she smelled the heat and fire, felt her hair stand on end amidst the violent electric charge.
But amazingly, it happened again. Kalrakin actually laughed in the face of her foolishness. He held up that stone again-it was so radiant now that Coryn had to squint-and absorbed the full brunt of the lethal lightning bolt into the smooth, round shape. The yellow spear of electricity simply vanished, leaving the artifact glowing so brightly that Coryn could no longer look at it without being blinded-it was like trying to stare at the sun.
Kalrakin reached for her with maniacal fury. He grabbed Coryn's robe with those long fingers, tendrils of brilliant golden light emanating from the little stone in his right hand. What she did next was automatic: She spoke another word-a word she had learned from Umma's books, she recalled with a pang-the same word that had saved her from the thanoi in the Icereach.
She had no destination in mind, but once again the old teleport spell served her true. Instantly she found herself standing at the edge of a meadow, with tall trees at her back, and a rocky bluff rising before her. The Tower was nowhere to be seen, and she sensed immediately that this wood was not Wayreth Forest. Or that Wayreth Forest had left her behind.
Nearby rose a low granite ridge, its face marked by lichen-encrusted rocks. A shady gap attracted her attention immediately, and Coryn realized she was looking at the mouth of a cave. Cautiously she approached the place, leaning forward, trying to peer inside the shadowy murk. As her eyes adjusted, she edged forward, coming under a lofty mantle of ancient rock.
From the darkness she heard-or perhaps imagined-a groan of unspeakable pain. Carefully she advanced, holding the folds of her robe off the floor, peering into the darkness as her eyes slowly adjusted. This place looked familiar-and there, on the floor, was a person she recognized.
"Jenna!"
The Red Robe lay on the floor of the cave, just as Coryn had seen her during the Test. Her face was pale and slick with sweat; her eyes, closed. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, like the panting of a wounded animal.