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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 104 из 208The male who led the group carried a sword decorated with a glowing gem and filled with magic-fairly glowing with it. The laraken drank the savory draught.
Abruptly the wizard stopped, his hand going to the despoiled sword. Steel hissed as he drew the weapon, and he stared for a long, disbelieving moment at the dull, clouded stone in the hilt. He tossed the useless blade aside and shouted incomprehensible noise at his comrades. One of them, a woman wearing robes of jungle green, stepped forward and brandished a tall black staff.
In response, the bilboa trees began to stir like awakening titans. The ground shook as roots tore free of the soil. Ancient wood creaked as the ensorcelled trees stretched and flexed, trying out their first fledgling steps.
The laraken backed away, enthralled by this wondrous display. It ducked as a thick limb swept over its head in ponderous attack, and it began to drink. Leaves withered to brown ash as the living trees yielded up their magic-enhanced lives. The laraken shrieked with joy at the intoxicating magic flowing into its limbs.
The wizards threw down their weapons and fled in panic. The laraken reached out, draining their spells, drinking their essence. Giddy with magic, the creature did not at first notice the uprooted bilboa trees begin to totter and sway.
Down they went, moving at the slow, inexorable pace that characterizes nightmares. Living trees shattered beneath the weight of the toppling giants, and a shrill chorus filled the air as creatures that made verdant cities of jungle trees died along with their homes. The humans, those slain by the laraken's hunger and those yet alive, went down under the tangle of killing limbs.
The laraken scuttled back, dodging the upturning roots and the churning soil. A sudden swell of torn root caught it and sent it tumbling.
Pain lashed through the monster. Flying branches and unearthed rock tore at its hide as the humans' swords could not. The sated pleasure of the laraken's recent banquet faded as the stolen magic flowed into the healing process.
Quickly the glow of the magical feast faded. Far too quickly.
Suddenly the laraken understood. The spells, the stolen magic, were being taken away! That meant that He Whose Spells Could Not Be Eaten had also left the world of watery magic.
The laraken-not quite healed, ravenous to the point of agony-threw back its head and shrieked in despair.
Kiva watched as Akhlaur received the stolen magic. His long, black staff crackled with bluish light and gathering energy.
Abruptly the wizard stopped, his hand going to the despoiled sword. Steel hissed as he drew the weapon, and he stared for a long, disbelieving moment at the dull, clouded stone in the hilt. He tossed the useless blade aside and shouted incomprehensible noise at his comrades. One of them, a woman wearing robes of jungle green, stepped forward and brandished a tall black staff.
In response, the bilboa trees began to stir like awakening titans. The ground shook as roots tore free of the soil. Ancient wood creaked as the ensorcelled trees stretched and flexed, trying out their first fledgling steps.
The laraken backed away, enthralled by this wondrous display. It ducked as a thick limb swept over its head in ponderous attack, and it began to drink. Leaves withered to brown ash as the living trees yielded up their magic-enhanced lives. The laraken shrieked with joy at the intoxicating magic flowing into its limbs.
The wizards threw down their weapons and fled in panic. The laraken reached out, draining their spells, drinking their essence. Giddy with magic, the creature did not at first notice the uprooted bilboa trees begin to totter and sway.
Down they went, moving at the slow, inexorable pace that characterizes nightmares. Living trees shattered beneath the weight of the toppling giants, and a shrill chorus filled the air as creatures that made verdant cities of jungle trees died along with their homes. The humans, those slain by the laraken's hunger and those yet alive, went down under the tangle of killing limbs.
The laraken scuttled back, dodging the upturning roots and the churning soil. A sudden swell of torn root caught it and sent it tumbling.
Pain lashed through the monster. Flying branches and unearthed rock tore at its hide as the humans' swords could not. The sated pleasure of the laraken's recent banquet faded as the stolen magic flowed into the healing process.
Quickly the glow of the magical feast faded. Far too quickly.
Suddenly the laraken understood. The spells, the stolen magic, were being taken away! That meant that He Whose Spells Could Not Be Eaten had also left the world of watery magic.
The laraken-not quite healed, ravenous to the point of agony-threw back its head and shrieked in despair.
Kiva watched as Akhlaur received the stolen magic. His long, black staff crackled with bluish light and gathering energy.