Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,42

seized, and he could no longer breathe. He tried to jerk, to move, anything to escape, but the goddess held him still. When he looked at her again, he felt her breath on his face and suddenly his lungs relaxed.

He was not an evil man any more than I was a perfect example of motherhood. The theology of this age has been extremely unkind to him. He was just a man, as you are. We fought and loved together, to make a better future for our children, to be happy.

His back was a single, aching mass that radiated constant misery. With each blow it somehow became more sensitive, and when the next landed his scream was unrestrained. His eyes were already streaming tears and his nose was filled with snot. He might have vomited; it was hard to be sure. Only the pain mattered.

And then it vanished. He floated above the atrium, looking down at his body as it stood rigidly in front of the statue of Temarah. Glancing to one side, he realized she was floating beside him. It felt so natural it never occurred to him to ask how they got there. Instead he returned to what she had just told him. Did you succeed? Were you happy?

The goddess smiled faintly. We were happy for as long as we lived. But time can be cruel. Now we seek happiness through this world, though just as often we find pain.

They watched as Lognion finished the last strokes. Will noticed that his body hardly responded now, as though it was made of stone as hard as the statue of the goddess. Are you doing this? he asked.

I kept you still at first, but now that you’ve freed yourself from the flesh, I am only lending you aid with the artistic touches.

Artistic touches?

When she looked at him again, he could see a burning fury in her gaze. I have a special hatred for this form of punishment and those who abuse it for their sick pleasure. She turned her eyes toward the king. That one in particular. He is due a reckoning.

I’m supposed to kill him, Will told her. But I would rather not have to. Maybe your vengeance will save me the trouble?

She shook her head. The world is for the living. I merely observe. You must cleanse it for yourself. She began to fade in front of his eyes.

Don’t go! he begged, but it was too late. He was alone.

But he wasn’t in his body. Looking down, he saw it still standing rigidly in front of the statue of Temarah. He had no idea how to return and when he thought about it, he began to drift farther away. For a second he panicked, and his perspective began to shift and roll. Will struggled to calm himself, and once his thoughts were clear he started to get a feel for how to control his movement. It was the reverse of swimming. In the water he could use his arms and legs to push against the water around him, but here there was no water. There was nothing solid, nothing material, not even air. Normally solid things like the ground, walls, the statue, other people, all of them were intangible. They provided not even the smallest resistance when his hands touched them.

The trick was to focus on a particular thing. It had confused him at first, because it felt like he was pushing away from whatever he put his mind to, but the opposite was the case. In the real world, the physical world, he moved toward something by pushing against other things, such as the ground when walking. Here attempting to push against other things the way he would with a physical body worked against him. Every time his attention wavered to something else, it would send him in that direction.

It felt as though it took several minutes to figure out, but when he took stock of the people standing around his body, he saw that they had barely moved. Focusing on his own face, he felt himself rushing toward it. There was a brief feeling of resistance and then the world exploded around him. Holy Mother! The pain was unbelievable.

Opening his eyes, the