Read Online Wizard at Large by Terry Brooks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Brooks
Ads: Link
Fillip ventured finally, unable nevertheless to keep his voice from shaking.
“Ahhhh!” the Darkling breathed.
“Why… are they kept there?” asked Sot. “Why not in your pocket?”
“Ahhhh!” the Darkling said again.
“Why do you live in the bottle?” asked Fillip.
“Yes, why?” echoed Sot.
The spiderlike body arched and turned on the lip of the bottle like some feeding insect. “Because… I am bound!” The Darkling's voice was an excited hiss. “Because it is my need! Would you like it to be yours, too, perhaps? Would you like to feel its touch? Little masters, would youdare? Would you dare to see how it shapes and molds and reworks life?”
Fillip and Sot were inching further back down into their burrow with every word, trying to make themselves disappear altogether. They were wishing they had kept the bottle closed as they had agreed they would. They were wishing they had never opened it up.
“Ohhhhh! Are you frightened?” the Darkling asked suddenly, whining the words, teasing with them. “Are you frightened of me? Oh, no, you mustn't be frightened. You are the masters; I am but your servant. Command me, masters! Ask for something and let me show you what I can do!”
Fillip and Sot just stared at him wordlessly.
“A word, masters!” the Darkling pleaded. “Command me!”
Fillip swallowed the dryness in his throat. “Show us something pretty,”he ventured tentatively.
“Something bright,”added Sot.
“But that is such a simple task!” the Darkling pouted. “Ah, well. Something pretty, masters, something bright. Here, then!”
It rose from a half-crouch and seemed to swell slightly in size. Fingers flicked this way and that, and tiny bits of green light sparked. All about it flying insects caught fire, turning into brilliant bits of rainbow color. The insects darted madly as the flames consumed them, tiny trailers of brightness as they swept past the astonished gnomes to form intricate patterns against the night.
“Ohhhh!” breathed Fillip and Sot as one, transfixed by the kaleidoscope of color, only vaguely disturbed after the first insect or two by a sense of repulsion.
The Darkling smiled a crooked smile and laughed gleefully. “Here, masters! More colors for you!”
Skeletal white fingers flicked the night air once more, and the bits of green light flew higher this time, explodingwith showers of brightness that flared and rainbowed out. A night bird had been set aflame, its cry quick and final as it perished. Others joined it, flaming rainbows of wondrous, terrible color in the dark, stars falling from the heavens. The gnomes watched, their delight growing strangely more demanding as the birds died, their sense of what was being lost gradually becoming submerged in some distant, darkened place within them.
When the birds had been consumed as well, the Darkling turned back to Fillip and Sot. Its eyes glittered a smoky red. That same light was reflected now—just a touch—in the eyes of the gnomes.
“You can see many such things, masters,”the Darkling whispered, its voice a low hiss of promise. “The magic of the bottle can give you all you wish—all the delights and wonders of your imagination and beyond! Do you wish these, masters? Do you wish to enjoy them?”
“Yes!” breathed Fillip rapturously.
“Yes!” sighed Sot.
The Darkling hunched over, black hair bristling out, a thing of perverse shape and fawning gestures. “Such good masters,”it whispered. “Why don't you touch me?”
Fillip and Sot nodded obediently. Already they were reaching out their hands.
The Darkling's eyes closed in satisfaction.
Ben Holiday slept poorly that night, troubled by dreams of the bottle and the demon that lived within it. He dreamed that the demon came out of the bottle on its own—just as Questor had warned it might—a huge, gargoyle monster that could swallow men whole. It did that with Fillip and Sot, did it with half a dozen others, and was in close pursuit of
“Ahhhh!” the Darkling breathed.
“Why… are they kept there?” asked Sot. “Why not in your pocket?”
“Ahhhh!” the Darkling said again.
“Why do you live in the bottle?” asked Fillip.
“Yes, why?” echoed Sot.
The spiderlike body arched and turned on the lip of the bottle like some feeding insect. “Because… I am bound!” The Darkling's voice was an excited hiss. “Because it is my need! Would you like it to be yours, too, perhaps? Would you like to feel its touch? Little masters, would youdare? Would you dare to see how it shapes and molds and reworks life?”
Fillip and Sot were inching further back down into their burrow with every word, trying to make themselves disappear altogether. They were wishing they had kept the bottle closed as they had agreed they would. They were wishing they had never opened it up.
“Ohhhhh! Are you frightened?” the Darkling asked suddenly, whining the words, teasing with them. “Are you frightened of me? Oh, no, you mustn't be frightened. You are the masters; I am but your servant. Command me, masters! Ask for something and let me show you what I can do!”
Fillip and Sot just stared at him wordlessly.
“A word, masters!” the Darkling pleaded. “Command me!”
Fillip swallowed the dryness in his throat. “Show us something pretty,”he ventured tentatively.
“Something bright,”added Sot.
“But that is such a simple task!” the Darkling pouted. “Ah, well. Something pretty, masters, something bright. Here, then!”
It rose from a half-crouch and seemed to swell slightly in size. Fingers flicked this way and that, and tiny bits of green light sparked. All about it flying insects caught fire, turning into brilliant bits of rainbow color. The insects darted madly as the flames consumed them, tiny trailers of brightness as they swept past the astonished gnomes to form intricate patterns against the night.
“Ohhhh!” breathed Fillip and Sot as one, transfixed by the kaleidoscope of color, only vaguely disturbed after the first insect or two by a sense of repulsion.
The Darkling smiled a crooked smile and laughed gleefully. “Here, masters! More colors for you!”
Skeletal white fingers flicked the night air once more, and the bits of green light flew higher this time, explodingwith showers of brightness that flared and rainbowed out. A night bird had been set aflame, its cry quick and final as it perished. Others joined it, flaming rainbows of wondrous, terrible color in the dark, stars falling from the heavens. The gnomes watched, their delight growing strangely more demanding as the birds died, their sense of what was being lost gradually becoming submerged in some distant, darkened place within them.
When the birds had been consumed as well, the Darkling turned back to Fillip and Sot. Its eyes glittered a smoky red. That same light was reflected now—just a touch—in the eyes of the gnomes.
“You can see many such things, masters,”the Darkling whispered, its voice a low hiss of promise. “The magic of the bottle can give you all you wish—all the delights and wonders of your imagination and beyond! Do you wish these, masters? Do you wish to enjoy them?”
“Yes!” breathed Fillip rapturously.
“Yes!” sighed Sot.
The Darkling hunched over, black hair bristling out, a thing of perverse shape and fawning gestures. “Such good masters,”it whispered. “Why don't you touch me?”
Fillip and Sot nodded obediently. Already they were reaching out their hands.
The Darkling's eyes closed in satisfaction.
Ben Holiday slept poorly that night, troubled by dreams of the bottle and the demon that lived within it. He dreamed that the demon came out of the bottle on its own—just as Questor had warned it might—a huge, gargoyle monster that could swallow men whole. It did that with Fillip and Sot, did it with half a dozen others, and was in close pursuit of
Similar Books
