Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,69

The fiery display pressed against Amric’s senses in a dizzying assault, forcing him to shade his eyes against its brilliance even as a dull roaring filled his ears.

The swordsman shook his head again, averting his gaze from the fountain. In truth, the shimmering, light-filled chamber in which they stood was little better, with their shadows dancing and twisting against the back wall in a mad mockery of their forms. Amric turned to study Grelthus, and found the Wyrgen staring down at the fountain, barrel chest heaving as his breath whistled through bared fangs.

“You are looking upon the remnants of a grand experiment,” Grelthus whispered. “It was to be our greatest triumph, and has instead become our darkest chapter.”

“What are we looking upon, Grelthus?” Amric asked.

The Wyrgen drew a shuddering breath. “I call it an Essence Fount, and since my people may be the first to have achieved such a thing, I think I can legitimately claim the right to name it.”

“The flame does not appear natural,” Halthak said, frowning.

“Natural?” Grelthus snorted. “A meaningless distinction. There are only the laws of the cosmos we understand, and those we have yet to decipher. The ancients were far beyond us on this path of comprehension. But I take your meaning, Ork. It is not a flame at all, but raw essence itself. It makes no heat or sound, and yet its power dwarfs any mundane fire––even of this size––to insignificance.”

“No sound?” Amric said. “It roars in my ears, within my head, fit to split my skull!”

Grelthus swung to look at him, head tilted to one side. “I hear nothing.”

Bellimar too was studying him with a pensive expression as he asked the Wyrgen, “Raw essence? You mean to suggest that we are looking upon a manifestation of pure magical force?”

Grelthus inclined his head. “Indeed, exactly so. But forgive me, you came seeking answers as to the region’s disruption, and I should start a few steps closer to the beginning.”

“Yes, closer to the beginning,” came a new voice from the back of the room. “So that he can form more gradual lies and thus steer you wrong undetected.”

They all whirled, and bare steel flashed into Valkarr’s hands. Amric gritted his teeth as dizziness washed over him. This place was somehow befuddling his senses, he thought fiercely, for his own swords should have been in hand against any threat with equal speed.

There was movement in the cage at the end of the room. The strange, wind-tugged pile of cloth lurched upward and became the standing form of a man, swathed in flowing robes. He was dirty and unshaven, and both his soiled clothing and grimy shoulder-length hair swirled with that same unfelt wind. He folded his arms across his chest and sky blue eyes raked over them in a baleful glare.

“My name is Syth,” he said. “And you are being lied to.”

“Pay no heed to this vermin,” Grelthus spat. “He is a violent criminal, detained here until he can be returned to face justice in Keldrin’s Landing.”

Amric looked from the prisoner to the Wyrgen. “What is this man’s crime?”

“He is a thief, caught invading Stronghold, and he wounded several of my people in his capture,” Grelthus responded.

“He lies, I have not harmed a one of these dogs,” Syth responded at once. He fixed the Wyrgen with a level stare as a slow, wintry smile crept onto his features. “But rest assured I will harm at least one when I leave.”

Grelthus gave a deep, menacing growl and took half a step toward the cage. “The pest is fortunate that I hold our peaceful relations with the human colony in such high value, for he would otherwise face immediate death under Stronghold’s laws for his intrusion.”

“Oh, indeed,” Syth snarled. “What a kindness you have done me, holding me here these many long weeks as you ponder how best to make use of my nature in your frantic experiments.”

“And what exactly is your nature, Syth?” Bellimar asked.

“I am a half-breed,” Syth said. “I am half human, and half wind elemental.”

“Marvelous,” Bellimar breathed. “Of course, I should have seen it.”

Amric studied the man anew, astonished. The few elementals he had encountered had been wild and unpredictable, more capricious forces of nature than sentient beings; the only air elemental he had seen before had lacked even a solid form. He tried and failed to imagine how they could produce offspring with humans, or how being infused with such a tempestuous, magical force would affect a man. He realized the man’s clothing,