smashed into kindling. Many more were sending up clouds of black smoke, as the wet sap tried to catch fire, while others had become raging bonfires. Nearer to the clearing many of the once proud trees were little more than stumps in the ground, while their blackened branches had formed into piles of debris scattered like fallen leaves around them.
For the longest time Sam simply stared at the carnage around him, stunned at how much damage he'd wrought, and wondering how he could have created something so terrible. What he had just released had to be a dozen, perhaps a hundred times more powerful than anything he'd ever done in his life. It was much more than he'd intended. More than he'd even known was possible. In fact there was only one word for what he had wrought; devastation. It would be years if not decades before the forest recovered from his magic. He also wondered if the elves would ever forgive him for destroying one of their forests.
Where had the power come from? As he sat there on Tyla's back staring, that question echoed through his mind. Because what he had done, wasn't just more than anything he'd ever been able to do before. He suspected it was more than any mere wizard could do. More surely than even a master could achieve.
Yet at the same time as he sat there staring in awe, there was also a feeling of savage pride and triumph running through him. After all, there were no rats remaining. Not a single one had survived the fire ring. Five hundred, six hundred – perhaps even more – golems had been turned to scrap metal in a single blast and the first wave of the enemy's attack had been destroyed in a single battle. The next wave, if it had yet been formed, wasn't even on the horizon. He had just won a major victory for the elves. Maybe the elves would take that into consideration if they ever thought about judging his actions.
Though it was wrong, there was also a certain feeling of satisfaction running through him as he surveyed the carnage all around him, and discovered his true strength. No longer could he regard himself as a student. Power on this scale, though its effects might have been terrible, could only be found in a master. Despite the endless pain and suffering he'd felt as he'd struggled to learn the spells and to carry every more fire within him, this here was proof that he had reached a new level. Mastery.
The satisfaction of having destroyed an enemy, and of having finally found such incredible power after so many years of trying was a wonder to him. But it was more than that. It was hope. Looking around and seeing all he had wrought he knew he had finally found all the power he needed to rescue Ry. He could level her prison, the keep and everything around it should he choose and his brother and his armies could do nothing to stop him. It was now only a question of tactics.
Once he had thought his strength in reclaiming her would be as that of a soldier, with the might of steel to be his anchor, and magic as an aid in the fight. Now he realised, his magic had become far more powerful than any steel could ever be, and it was a good feeling. He knew finally that not only could he do it, but that none could stand against him. The time to reclaim his wife from her prison and punish his half-brother for his evil was upon him. Very soon his life would be whole once more and he could barely contain the excitement at the thought. Soon Ryshal would be back in his arms.
But not this day.
The price for his spell casting was already demanding to be paid. He knew it even as he sat there staring in speechless awe at what he had achieved. While his life essence was still strong, his magic wasn't. He had spent an incredible amount of magic in forming that ring, and his own fire was subdued, almost asleep. He had no more spells left in him for the moment, and soon he would fall asleep where he sat as his body and soul tried to regenerate the magic. He had just done the
For the longest time Sam simply stared at the carnage around him, stunned at how much damage he'd wrought, and wondering how he could have created something so terrible. What he had just released had to be a dozen, perhaps a hundred times more powerful than anything he'd ever done in his life. It was much more than he'd intended. More than he'd even known was possible. In fact there was only one word for what he had wrought; devastation. It would be years if not decades before the forest recovered from his magic. He also wondered if the elves would ever forgive him for destroying one of their forests.
Where had the power come from? As he sat there on Tyla's back staring, that question echoed through his mind. Because what he had done, wasn't just more than anything he'd ever been able to do before. He suspected it was more than any mere wizard could do. More surely than even a master could achieve.
Yet at the same time as he sat there staring in awe, there was also a feeling of savage pride and triumph running through him. After all, there were no rats remaining. Not a single one had survived the fire ring. Five hundred, six hundred – perhaps even more – golems had been turned to scrap metal in a single blast and the first wave of the enemy's attack had been destroyed in a single battle. The next wave, if it had yet been formed, wasn't even on the horizon. He had just won a major victory for the elves. Maybe the elves would take that into consideration if they ever thought about judging his actions.
Though it was wrong, there was also a certain feeling of satisfaction running through him as he surveyed the carnage all around him, and discovered his true strength. No longer could he regard himself as a student. Power on this scale, though its effects might have been terrible, could only be found in a master. Despite the endless pain and suffering he'd felt as he'd struggled to learn the spells and to carry every more fire within him, this here was proof that he had reached a new level. Mastery.
The satisfaction of having destroyed an enemy, and of having finally found such incredible power after so many years of trying was a wonder to him. But it was more than that. It was hope. Looking around and seeing all he had wrought he knew he had finally found all the power he needed to rescue Ry. He could level her prison, the keep and everything around it should he choose and his brother and his armies could do nothing to stop him. It was now only a question of tactics.
Once he had thought his strength in reclaiming her would be as that of a soldier, with the might of steel to be his anchor, and magic as an aid in the fight. Now he realised, his magic had become far more powerful than any steel could ever be, and it was a good feeling. He knew finally that not only could he do it, but that none could stand against him. The time to reclaim his wife from her prison and punish his half-brother for his evil was upon him. Very soon his life would be whole once more and he could barely contain the excitement at the thought. Soon Ryshal would be back in his arms.
But not this day.
The price for his spell casting was already demanding to be paid. He knew it even as he sat there staring in speechless awe at what he had achieved. While his life essence was still strong, his magic wasn't. He had spent an incredible amount of magic in forming that ring, and his own fire was subdued, almost asleep. He had no more spells left in him for the moment, and soon he would fall asleep where he sat as his body and soul tried to regenerate the magic. He had just done the
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