Samual by Greg Curtis Read Free Book Online Page A

Sam used every scrap of his strength that he could to draw in the fire, and quickly found himself channelling more fire than he had ever held in his entire life.
     
    Normally he channelled no more than enough to launch a few good fireballs, plenty to take on most enemies, or to practice with. This time he was gathering enough to knock down a castle, and just hoped that it would be enough. Yet strangely it was no more difficult. The stakes were perhaps slightly higher in that if he made a mistake, there was the likelihood that he would explode like a blocked cannon, levelling the entire clearing in the process instead of just burning himself to a cinder, but the effort involved was no greater. That surprised him.
     
    After nearly five years of daily practice with the arcane texts, struggling to master the complex exercises, and learning to hold ever more sophisticated shapes in his thoughts, he'd reached some form of plateau. A level beyond which he could not progress. In fact for the last few years he'd almost thought himself sliding backwards in some areas as his hopes had faded and his mood darkened. Particularly in terms of increasing his strength. Sure, his control might have been improving, but it had seemed he was paying a price for that control in terms of raw strength.
     
    That had scared him for a while, because he knew that only when he had his magic at full power would he ever have a hope of rescuing Ryshal. And that was his goal. In fact it had been his only purpose in training, even though he knew in his heart that he had no real hope of doing that. Because to get to her he'd have to get to his brother first, and to get to him he would have to go through an entire keep of soldiers and wizards. And even if he did finally manage to get to him, one of Heri's guards would only hold a sword to Ryshal's throat until he let him go. Despair had set in after a while and he guessed that that was part of what had held him back. But even knowing what it was, he had not been able to fight it. Until now. Now for some reason, the power he needed was coming to him in leaps and bounds.
     
    Perhaps he had been getting stronger as his studies progressed, something his instructors back in Fair Fields had always promised him would happen if he worked at it. Perhaps it was just the need and the imminent danger that was giving him the extra strength. Possibly it was the ever growing anger as he thought about what these things were doing to Ryshal's kin while he was still exiled here, unable to rescue her. It could even be the relief as he finally had an enemy to strike at instead of simply turning his anger inwards. Or maybe it was just that the drawing of the fire had never been the hard part. Whatever it was he didn't care. He couldn't. Not when the magic was singing so sweetly in his veins.
     
    Sam felt a darkness in his soul, and it revelled in the power. It sang at the thought of what it was going to do with that power. It screamed of vengeance and might. Sam was scared – of it as much as the enemy – but not as much as he should have been. Because that same darkness would not allow it. The power that he'd struggled to attain for so long had finally arrived. In fact there was suddenly far more than he'd ever dreamt of. And he was going to use it to destroy his enemies. All of them . Instead of worrying about the danger, or even the rightness of his actions, Sam simply let the magic build and concentrated only on hanging on to it until it was time to be used.
     
    All around him the temperature fell drastically, and soon the clearing had a frost forming all over it, as well as the nearer trees. In fact the only place not turning white was the patch of green on which he and Tyla stood. Winter was suddenly coming to the forests on a beautiful summer morning. It was something he'd seen many times before, though never on such a scale. All fire magicians had seen this from time to time. It was simply fire and ice – two sides of