Read Online The Last Guardian by Jeff Grubb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jeff Grubb
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Fantasy Fiction; American, Games, Video & Electronic
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somewhere, and was sneaking up on the monsters? Or had he returned to the human force to the south, to bring them here?
Or, thought Khadgar grimly, had Medivh’s quicksilver mood changed once again and he had forgotten he had someone with him on this flight?
Khadgar looked quickly out into the darkness, then back toward the site of the ambush itself.
There were more shadows moving around the fire, and more howling.
Khadgar picked up the grisly trophy-spear, and strode purposely toward the fire. He might not be able to fire off more than a mystic bolt or two, but the monsters didn’t know that.
Perhaps they were as dumb as they looked. And as inexperienced with wizards as he was with them.
He did surprise them, for what it was worth. The last thing they expected was their prey, the victim they had unseated from its flying mount, suddenly to manifest at the edge of the campfire’s light, bearing the trophy-spear of one of their guards.
Khadgar tossed the spear sideways on the fire, and it sent up a shower of sparks as it landed.
The young mage summoned a bit of flame, a small ball, and held it in his hand. He hoped that it Page 28
limned his features as seriously as the torch had lit the guard’s. It had better.
“Leave this place,” Khadgar bellowed, praying that his strained voice would not crack. “Leave this place or die.”
One of the larger brutes took two steps forward and Khadgar muttered a word of power. The mystic energies congealed around his flaming hand and blasted the green nonhuman full in the face. The brute had enough time to raise a clawed hand to its ruined features before it toppled.
“Flee,” shouted Khadgar, trying to pitch his voice as deeply as he could, “Flee or face the same fate.”
His stomach felt like ice, and he tried not to stare at the burning creature.
A spear launched out of the darkness, and with the last of his energy Khadgar summoned a bit of air, just enough to push it clearly aside. As he did he felt faint. That was the last he could do.
He was well and truly tapped out. It would be a good time for his bluff to work.
The surrounding creatures, about a dozen visible, took a step back, then another. One more shout, Khadgar reckoned, and they would flee back into the swamp, and give him enough time to flee himself.
He had already decided he would flee south, toward the army encampment.
Instead there was a high, cackling laugh that froze Khadgar’s blood. The ranks of the green warriors parted and another figure shambled forward. It was thinner and more hunched than the others, and wore a robe the color of curdled blood. The color of the sky of Khadgar’s vision. Its features were as green and misshapened as the others, but this one has a gleam of feral intelligence in its eyes.
It held out its hand, palm upward, and took a dagger and pierced its palm with the tip. Reddish blood pooled in the clawed palm.
The robed beast spoke a word that Khadgar had never heard, a word that hurt the ears, and the blood burst into flame.
“Human wants to play?” said the robed monster, roughly matching the human language. “Wants to play at spells? Nothgrin can play!”
“Leave now,” tried Khadgar. “Leave now or die!”
But the young mage’s voice wavered now, and the robed mockery merely laughed. Khadgar scanned the area around him, looking for the best place to run, wondering if he could grab one of the guard’s swords laying on ground. He wondered if this Nothgrin was bluffing as much as Khadgar had been.
Nothgrin took a step toward Khadgar, and two of the brutes to the spellcaster’s right suddenly screamed and burst into flame. It happened with a suddenness that shocked everyone, including Khadgar. Nothgrin wheeled toward the immolated creatures, to see two more join them, bursting into flame like dry sticks. They screamed as well, their knees buckling, and they toppled to the ground.
In the place where the creatures had been now stood Medivh. He seemed to
Or, thought Khadgar grimly, had Medivh’s quicksilver mood changed once again and he had forgotten he had someone with him on this flight?
Khadgar looked quickly out into the darkness, then back toward the site of the ambush itself.
There were more shadows moving around the fire, and more howling.
Khadgar picked up the grisly trophy-spear, and strode purposely toward the fire. He might not be able to fire off more than a mystic bolt or two, but the monsters didn’t know that.
Perhaps they were as dumb as they looked. And as inexperienced with wizards as he was with them.
He did surprise them, for what it was worth. The last thing they expected was their prey, the victim they had unseated from its flying mount, suddenly to manifest at the edge of the campfire’s light, bearing the trophy-spear of one of their guards.
Khadgar tossed the spear sideways on the fire, and it sent up a shower of sparks as it landed.
The young mage summoned a bit of flame, a small ball, and held it in his hand. He hoped that it Page 28
limned his features as seriously as the torch had lit the guard’s. It had better.
“Leave this place,” Khadgar bellowed, praying that his strained voice would not crack. “Leave this place or die.”
One of the larger brutes took two steps forward and Khadgar muttered a word of power. The mystic energies congealed around his flaming hand and blasted the green nonhuman full in the face. The brute had enough time to raise a clawed hand to its ruined features before it toppled.
“Flee,” shouted Khadgar, trying to pitch his voice as deeply as he could, “Flee or face the same fate.”
His stomach felt like ice, and he tried not to stare at the burning creature.
A spear launched out of the darkness, and with the last of his energy Khadgar summoned a bit of air, just enough to push it clearly aside. As he did he felt faint. That was the last he could do.
He was well and truly tapped out. It would be a good time for his bluff to work.
The surrounding creatures, about a dozen visible, took a step back, then another. One more shout, Khadgar reckoned, and they would flee back into the swamp, and give him enough time to flee himself.
He had already decided he would flee south, toward the army encampment.
Instead there was a high, cackling laugh that froze Khadgar’s blood. The ranks of the green warriors parted and another figure shambled forward. It was thinner and more hunched than the others, and wore a robe the color of curdled blood. The color of the sky of Khadgar’s vision. Its features were as green and misshapened as the others, but this one has a gleam of feral intelligence in its eyes.
It held out its hand, palm upward, and took a dagger and pierced its palm with the tip. Reddish blood pooled in the clawed palm.
The robed beast spoke a word that Khadgar had never heard, a word that hurt the ears, and the blood burst into flame.
“Human wants to play?” said the robed monster, roughly matching the human language. “Wants to play at spells? Nothgrin can play!”
“Leave now,” tried Khadgar. “Leave now or die!”
But the young mage’s voice wavered now, and the robed mockery merely laughed. Khadgar scanned the area around him, looking for the best place to run, wondering if he could grab one of the guard’s swords laying on ground. He wondered if this Nothgrin was bluffing as much as Khadgar had been.
Nothgrin took a step toward Khadgar, and two of the brutes to the spellcaster’s right suddenly screamed and burst into flame. It happened with a suddenness that shocked everyone, including Khadgar. Nothgrin wheeled toward the immolated creatures, to see two more join them, bursting into flame like dry sticks. They screamed as well, their knees buckling, and they toppled to the ground.
In the place where the creatures had been now stood Medivh. He seemed to
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