Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,190

outward with the power in a jerking shrug, and the bonds that held him ruptured, cast aside like so many brittle sticks. He staggered as his boots hit the ground. Then he and the other within him turned their attention together to their foe.

Xenoth stiffened, some arcane instinct warning him of the forces gathering at his back. He spun away from hunting the Sil’ath warriors, his eyes widening.

Amric hit him with everything he had.

He lunged forward with both hands extended, and from them leapt forth a torrent of white flame that filled the night, hammering into Xenoth. The black-robed Adept cursed and crossed his arms before him, lowering his head and bracing against the surge. Sand went up in great, spiraling plumes as the man was driven sliding backward a dozen yards across the ground.

The tenacious blue flame coursing over Halthak’s body dwindled and died, and the healer sagged to all fours. Bellimar’s scream came to an abrupt end as whatever force was holding him suspended in the air released him at last. He crashed to the ground in a heap. Valkarr and Sariel each slowed to a halt, staring in disbelief at the display of power going on between them. Valkarr’s dark eyes threw back a reflection of dazzling white light as his gaze darted between his childhood friend and the river of eldritch flame emanating from him.

Amric clenched his jaw and continued to pour energy out into the night, sending it washing over the black-robed Adept. Where it was coming from, he neither knew nor cared; he would burn Xenoth to a cinder, just as that monster had done to Innikar and tried to do to the others.

A deep fatigue, starting at the roots of his senses, began to steal over him. He shook it off and continued, but his outthrust hands began a traitorous trembling. Perspiration beaded his forehead and ran into his eyes, and he blinked it clear with a growl. With a sinking sensation, he realized that the flames were not as bright, not as voluminous, as they had been moments before. His mind grew clouded, and a strange wordless clamoring intruded, trailed by a dull comprehension; it was the other within him, pulsating with panicked warnings.

The jet of flame sputtered and died, and Amric fell panting to his knees, more exhausted than he could recall having been in his entire life. He raised his head with a monumental effort to regard the damage he had done.

A smoking crater gaped before him, twenty feet across and three times that or more in length. The near end was a scorched ramp downward into a blackened pit, starting narrow and broadening to its full width at the bottom. The far end was scalloped deeply and polished to a dark, glass-like finish. The edge of the crater glowed like an ember thread, fading as it cooled in the night air.

At the center of the basin stood the black-robed Adept, unharmed.

Xenoth’s arms were still crossed before him, and he let them fall to his sides. His teeth gleamed in the soft, silvery light of the globe hanging high overhead. It was the grin of a peerless predator on familiar ground.

“You have ample power, boy, I will grant you that,” Xenoth said, speaking slowly as if savoring every word. “But you lack the training to use it, and you exhaust yourself with such ineffective, unfocused displays. You very nearly killed yourself there and saved me the trouble.”

He began a purposeful march up the scorched ramp.

“Now let me show you how it is done.”

The Adept’s hands began to glow.

CHAPTER 24

The black-robed Adept spread his hands out before him without breaking stride, and Amric found himself fighting for his life.

The attack came from every direction at once, bewildering, dazzling, faster than thought. Streaks of light leapt from Xenoth’s splayed fingers and arced through the sky. They fell toward Amric like sparkling gossamer threads, graceful in their descent, and yet some nagging instinct warned him that their touch would mean his death. He tried to rise from his knees, but the ground buckled and shifted beneath him like a live thing, throwing him off balance. His attacker made a curt back-handed motion, as if casting something away, and a crackling ball of energy the size of a fist came hurtling at him. He hurled himself to the side, rolling from its path and trying to keep a wary eye upon the falling threads. Rather than continuing past, however, the orb swerved to follow