Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,88

momentarily displaced rage on the wolf-like visage, however, as the Half-Ork fell backward and Grelthus hurtled through the empty space above him. Lying on his back, the healer lashed out with both feet to send the Wyrgen tumbling past. Halthak could never say afterward with any certainty whether the maneuver was tactical inspiration on his part, or if instead he had fallen backward in abject terror; if he lived to retell the moment, it would doubtless depend on his audience. It bought him precious seconds, however, even if it put his pursuer between him and the stairs he sought to reach.

He scrambled to his feet, hoping to rush past his stunned adversary, but the plan was short-lived. Shaking his great head in a rustle of thick, matted mane, Grelthus rose to all fours and glowered at Halthak once more.

“You are a troublesome creature, Half-Ork,” Grelthus said, his eyes eerily luminous in the shifting glow of the Essence Fount. “You have more fire in you than I thought.”

“Keep your praise,” Halthak called back. “Leave me be, and I will trouble you no more.”

The Wyrgen’s only reply was a rumbling laugh, and he began to pace forward in a low crouch, his deep chest almost brushing the floor. The healer edged back from him.

“I will die before I yield to you, Grelthus. You must realize that by now.”

Grelthus gave a rolling shrug of his immense shoulders as he crept forward. “It is no matter. There are things your body can teach me, even in death. And I must admit that the baser part of my nature hungers to see your blood at the moment, healer.”

Halthak felt a chill at the creature’s hard, indifferent tone. He wondered if all Wyrgens were so cruel, or if Grelthus had been driven to this state by solitude and what he had witnessed. He stepped to his right as the Wyrgen circled to his left. Maybe he could keep the creature talking, keep him distracted.

“I––” he began, and then Grelthus sprang at him.

He twisted back and to one side, but to no avail. The Wyrgen’s weight slammed into him, tearing him from his feet and knocking the wind from him. Halthak writhed and thrashed, but he was clasped in thick, furry arms corded with muscle, and he might as well have been a flailing child for all the effect his struggles had on his captor. Grelthus wrenched him around and threw a mighty forearm across his chest, pinning him tight and facing away, and the other hand rose to clutch at Halthak’s throat with curved talons.

“Cease your struggles, Half-Ork,” Grelthus hissed in his ear. “Or I will rip out your throat.”

Halthak wheezed a laugh, and tightened the grip of his own hand upon the beast’s forearm to apprise the Wyrgen of its presence there. His magic swelled within him. “Best hope for a clean kill, Grelthus, or it will be your own throat you open.”

The Wyrgen froze. Hot, rank breath washed over the side of the Half-Ork’s face as Grelthus panted and considered.

Halthak considered as well, his mind racing. How quickly could he bring his magic to bear, particularly if affected by so grievous an injury? Halthak himself did not know, but he meant to try. Talons tightened on Halthak’s throat, and beads of scarlet slid down his neck. Grelthus grunted as his own throat dimpled in response, and tiny rivulets of blood slicked into his fur, but he did not loosen his hold. Halthak felt the Wyrgen’s forearm tense, and he braced himself for the release that would come in one form or another.

Suddenly a new voice intruded. “Release him, dog.”

Halthak strained his eyes to the side to see Amric and Valkarr stalking toward them along the terrace, bared steel in their fists. Behind them trailed Bellimar, holding Halthak’s staff in one pale hand, and Syth, the strange prisoner from the cage of blue flame. The latter wore polished black gauntlets now, clenched at his sides. His clothing rippled about him in fitful swirls, and he made no attempt to mask the burning hatred in the stare he leveled at Grelthus.

“How is your ailment, swordsman?” Grelthus sneered. “You should flee Stronghold before it claims you.”

“We have unfinished matters between us first,” Amric said, still striding forward. “And they start with our friend you are holding there.”

“Then your arrival is well-timed, as I was about to give him a look at his own insides. Keep your distance!”

Amric shook his head. “I think not, Grelthus. I am close