Gathering Of The God-Touched (Book 4) by Ron Collins Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ron Collins
he said. His eyes flickered with life. “Is this the best a Torean can manage?”
The Lectodinian twisted his hands together, and a cold web whipped itself around Garrick, its filaments burning against his skin. His life force was drawn toward it like iron to a magnet. Rather than fight it, Garrick used its momentum, sending life force through his arms and legs that burned the net into a cloud of gray ash.
“Fine shot, Parathay,” Jormar el’Mor said. “Alas, it didn’t do the job.”
The Koradictine’s body jiggled as he whipped his arm forward to throw a wave of power toward Garrick, a flow of golden current that rolled through the cavern with dark fishes riding its breaking crest, their over-sized jaws clacking with metallic teeth.
The wave pushed him backward with a rush of salt and sewage.
The fish bit into his legs and arms.
Garrick set gates and cast what remained of his life force at the fish. They fell away, leaving him gasping for breath and in smoldering pain, prone on the floor, and sopping wet as the wave died out.
He was near the edge of the chamber, now, nearly blinded by sunlight, but able to make out the ground below. The Lectodinian army had closed in on the western flank, and the Koradictines were pinching from the east. The Torean decoy mages bought them time, but the eventual outcome was obvious. The orders’ armies were too large. The Toreans’ would soon be destroyed.
His muscles ached and his vision swam.
His life force was all but gone, and the god-touched mages of the Lectodinian and Koradictine orders strode forward, each vibrant, and each with wickedness pasted on their faces.
It was over, he realized.
He would not win.
The thought made him angry. He had been a pawn his whole life. If he was going to die today, he was not going to go out as a meek apprentice.
Garrick grimaced against his pain, willed himself to one knee, then stood as straight and as tall as he could.
Then he turned and faced the Koradictine and Lectodinian god-touched mages one last time.
Chapter 16
Smoke and swordsong rolled over the battlefield as Darien rode among his soldiers. Blood colored the soil, and the screams of the wounded filled the air. Dorfort’s army had held their own until a gathering of Koradictines cast great bolts of magic across their positions.
He called for a retreat to the next line, but three of his men were trapped.
Darien spurred his horse forward, hacking at Koradictine mercenaries as he raced across the field. A battle-ax clanged against his armor, and a sword slashed at his thigh, but his men slipped through the opening he created, and they raced away with shouts of victory.
Koradictine troops chased until a line of Freeborn mages leapt upon the fortified ridge and cast magic into the fray. Flames of blue and orange gave Darien the time he needed, and the hooves of his horse thundered as he made the Torean line.
An arrow pierced the chest of one black-garbed mage, though, and she fell, screaming.
Darien’s men turned to defend once again.
The retreat had been successful, but Darien understood the critical word in that thought was “retreat.”
The orders were winning. They had more men, and their wizards were stronger. It was only a matter of time. The end was drawing near, and there was nothing he could do for it.
His gaze went to the peak above.
Chapter 17
Sweat poured down Garrick’s face, and his body ached. His life force was spent and his hunger ravaged his mind. He had used his rage to force himself to his feet, but once there he had nothing left.
Braxidane!
he thought, or maybe he actually spoke the name, he couldn’t tell.
Braxidane!
Help me!
There was no answer.
He could barely stay on his feet.
“You were unwise to call us out, apprentice,” Jormar said.
“Now you’ll pay the price,” Parathay finished.
Hunger stirred deep inside Garrick, seeming to rise to the movement of the other two. He felt the god-touched mages as they prepared
The Lectodinian twisted his hands together, and a cold web whipped itself around Garrick, its filaments burning against his skin. His life force was drawn toward it like iron to a magnet. Rather than fight it, Garrick used its momentum, sending life force through his arms and legs that burned the net into a cloud of gray ash.
“Fine shot, Parathay,” Jormar el’Mor said. “Alas, it didn’t do the job.”
The Koradictine’s body jiggled as he whipped his arm forward to throw a wave of power toward Garrick, a flow of golden current that rolled through the cavern with dark fishes riding its breaking crest, their over-sized jaws clacking with metallic teeth.
The wave pushed him backward with a rush of salt and sewage.
The fish bit into his legs and arms.
Garrick set gates and cast what remained of his life force at the fish. They fell away, leaving him gasping for breath and in smoldering pain, prone on the floor, and sopping wet as the wave died out.
He was near the edge of the chamber, now, nearly blinded by sunlight, but able to make out the ground below. The Lectodinian army had closed in on the western flank, and the Koradictines were pinching from the east. The Torean decoy mages bought them time, but the eventual outcome was obvious. The orders’ armies were too large. The Toreans’ would soon be destroyed.
His muscles ached and his vision swam.
His life force was all but gone, and the god-touched mages of the Lectodinian and Koradictine orders strode forward, each vibrant, and each with wickedness pasted on their faces.
It was over, he realized.
He would not win.
The thought made him angry. He had been a pawn his whole life. If he was going to die today, he was not going to go out as a meek apprentice.
Garrick grimaced against his pain, willed himself to one knee, then stood as straight and as tall as he could.
Then he turned and faced the Koradictine and Lectodinian god-touched mages one last time.
Chapter 16
Smoke and swordsong rolled over the battlefield as Darien rode among his soldiers. Blood colored the soil, and the screams of the wounded filled the air. Dorfort’s army had held their own until a gathering of Koradictines cast great bolts of magic across their positions.
He called for a retreat to the next line, but three of his men were trapped.
Darien spurred his horse forward, hacking at Koradictine mercenaries as he raced across the field. A battle-ax clanged against his armor, and a sword slashed at his thigh, but his men slipped through the opening he created, and they raced away with shouts of victory.
Koradictine troops chased until a line of Freeborn mages leapt upon the fortified ridge and cast magic into the fray. Flames of blue and orange gave Darien the time he needed, and the hooves of his horse thundered as he made the Torean line.
An arrow pierced the chest of one black-garbed mage, though, and she fell, screaming.
Darien’s men turned to defend once again.
The retreat had been successful, but Darien understood the critical word in that thought was “retreat.”
The orders were winning. They had more men, and their wizards were stronger. It was only a matter of time. The end was drawing near, and there was nothing he could do for it.
His gaze went to the peak above.
Chapter 17
Sweat poured down Garrick’s face, and his body ached. His life force was spent and his hunger ravaged his mind. He had used his rage to force himself to his feet, but once there he had nothing left.
Braxidane!
he thought, or maybe he actually spoke the name, he couldn’t tell.
Braxidane!
Help me!
There was no answer.
He could barely stay on his feet.
“You were unwise to call us out, apprentice,” Jormar said.
“Now you’ll pay the price,” Parathay finished.
Hunger stirred deep inside Garrick, seeming to rise to the movement of the other two. He felt the god-touched mages as they prepared
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