Albrek's Tomb - Forman Mark L - Страница 62

• Предыдущая
• 62/90
• Следующая

“I see you’ve mastered fire,” Mog said. “An impressive feat for any wizard, I’ll not deny it. But I have other weapons—other, more deadly, ways of dealing with you.”

Mog spun his staff quickly and an ice-cold blast of air hit Alex, pushing him back toward the wall. The cold tore at him, burning his bare hands and face as the air rushed over him. He felt strangely tired, and for a moment all he could think about was sleep. Shaking his head, Alex cleared his thoughts, and, raising his own staff, he turned away Mog’s spell. One wall of the chamber went white with ice as the spell hit it. Mog raised his staff once more.

Alex was quicker this time, and he cast a spell of his own, a binding spell that would keep Mog from moving. He needed time to think, to warm his cold, numb hands, and to clear his mind. Fighting off Mog’s spells was slowly draining his power, and he wondered how long he could keep it up.

Mog struggled against Alex’s spell, but he was unable to break it. After several seconds he stood still, and Alex knew that Mog was gathering his own power to break the binding. Focusing his thoughts on the spell, Alex struggled to keep the binding in place, and for a brief moment he thought he’d succeeded, but then with a loud snapping sound, Mog broke free. The creature staggered slightly and leaned against the table, catching his breath.

Alex leaned against his staff, breathing hard after his effort to keep the binding spell in place. In the back of his mind, the wild, reckless feelings that he had been trying to understand for the last few months began to stir.

Mog moved suddenly, sending a blast of bloodred light at Alex.

The light hit Alex in the chest, throwing him against the cavern wall and knocking the breath out of him. He looked up to see the effort on the creature’s face, the pain that it was costing him to keep the spell in place. Alex, however, didn’t feel any pain; the true-silver mail he was wearing under his shirt had deflected the spell from him and sent it back to Mog.

“Curse you!” Mog shouted, breaking the spell. “That spell has killed more powerful wizards than you.”

“Yet I remain,” said Alex, pushing himself away from the wall.

“Not for long.”

A blast of green light hit Alex like a hammer, driving him to his knees. There was no pain in this light, but it was full of feelings. His mind spun as memories he had thought all but forgotten returned to him. All of his darkest thoughts, his fears, and his sorrows seemed to gather around him like a mist as Mog continued to dig them out of Alex’s own past.

Alex felt himself weakening little by little, unable to resist Mog’s spell.

Mog pressed his advantage, forcing Alex’s thoughts further back in time, drawing out the worst things that had ever happened to him.

Alex fell to the ground, his body suddenly too heavy for him to hold up. Darkness filled his mind with the memories and feelings Mog was forcing out of him. Alex knew the battle was lost. He would not be able to break Mog’s spell; he would be destroyed. It was pointless to go on, pointless to resist the darkness.

Fight!a voice shouted in the back of Alex’s brain. Reach out and take the power that is waiting for you to claim it.

It was a voice Alex had heard before, a voice that had told him what he needed to know when he’d fought other evils. This was his O’Gash, his sixth sense. Alex lifted his head and tried to focus on his enemy, but something hit him like a massive fist, driving him back to the floor.

Alex’s deepest sorrow flooded into his mind. He was alone in a dimly lit room, standing in front of a coffin, a coffin that had only just been closed. Mog’s spell began to lift the lid to reveal what lay inside, but Alex already knew what he would see: the pale face of his own mother, dead when Alex was only seven years old.

His mind raced with fear and with sorrow and with a desire Alex had never felt before. His body shook as he realized that he wantedthe coffin lid to lift; he wantedto use the dark magic to call his mother back to the world of the living. More than anything, Alex wanted his mother to answer the questions that plagued him. Why had she never explained what his father had been? Why had she taken Alex to a world that held little magic? Why had she never told him about the family that should have been his?

He looked down on his mother’s coffin and rage replaced his sorrow.

It will do no good,the O’Gash said calmly. She had her own reasons, and she did what she did because she loved you. Calling back the dead is not the answer you are looking for.

“Use the magic!” Mog’s voice screamed from nowhere. “Rip the truth from those who have deceived you.”

The coffin began to shake, its lid slowly opening. Alex closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening, but he could still hear the creaking of the coffin lid. With all the strength he had left, Alex lifted his right hand and reached out for something that had been waiting for him all of his life.

“Do it!” Mog shouted in excitement. “Take hold of the darkness, and live forever!”

“No,” Alex growled in a voice that shook the mountain around him.

The reckless, wild power of the dragon surged through him as he fought off the despair. The flames of power rose up, filling Alex’s whole body. He got back to his feet, and Mog’s spell burned away like paper. A blast of golden light shot from Alex’s staff, throwing Mog across the room into a shelf full of books. Mog looked up, startled and afraid, as a second blast hit him in the chest. His stone staff shattered into a million pieces.

Mog fell to his hands and knees, struggling to get back to his feet.

Alex moved forward, the reckless power changing him as he walked. When he stood over the broken body of Nethrom, he looked like a man made of golden flames.

“Dragon,” said Mog in an awed whisper before collapsing to the floor.

A piercing scream filled the ancient chamber where Alex stood, and the dark shadow of Mog slowly lifted from the body of Nethrom. The shadow hovered for a moment as if trying to take shape, but Alex brushed it away with a wave of his hand, and it vanished without another sound.

Slowly, the feeling of reckless power began to slip away, and Alex found himself kneeling beside Nethrom’s body. He was cold and worn out; he felt like he had just been sick. He gulped in the cool, damp air of the cavern, wiping sweat off his face with his sleeve.

After what felt like a long time, Nethrom stirred, his eyes opening slightly to look at Alex.

“You came,” said Nethrom weakly. “You saved me from my own foolish mistake.”

“I did what I had to do,” Alex said softly.

“Thank you,” Nethrom whispered. “Thank you for freeing me and my people.”

“How did you find this place? How did you know it was here?” Alex asked.

“The order,” Nethrom managed to whisper. “The order of Malgor.”

Alex did not have time to ask anything more as Nethrom’s eyes slipped out of focus and he let out his final breath.

Chapter Nineteen

Return from Darkness

Y ou have done well, young one,Salinor spoke in Alex’s mind. Now you must return to your friends. You have been too long in the darkness of the mountain.

“I’m so tired,” said Alex, looking around as he tried to find the dragon.

You must go,Salinor repeated. You can rest later.

“As you wish,” answered Alex, struggling to get up.

When he opened his eyes, Alex wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. Darkness was all around him, and only the cold stone floor beneath him reminded him of where he was. Slowly he got to his feet, using his staff to help him stand. His head spun, and he stumbled sideways, bumping into something solid.

• Предыдущая
• 62/90
• Следующая