The Stranger's Magic: The Labyrinths of Echo: Book Three by Max Frei Read Free Book Online Page A

sorry.”
    “Hey, that’s all right, Shurf. You know, when I want to remember my dreams, I close my eyes and try to doze off. Not to fall asleep for real but just to doze off, to enter the border
state between reality and dreamland. This is important. It’s not going to help you now—it only works right after you wake up—but you should definitely try it next time.”
    “Are you sure you want me to remember?”
    I was a little unnerved at the unfamiliar sarcasm in Shurf’s voice, but I wasn’t surprised. All evening he had been a little too uptight—well, to the degree that the
imperturbable Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli could be uptight. Besides, I was focusing on the road: I was flying down the narrow streets of the Old City at such speed that I couldn’t afford to relax
even for a split second.
    “I think it makes sense to try to remember everything that happens to you, even in your dreams,” I said, smiling, and turned my head to my colleague.
    I rotated it just slightly, just enough to adhere to my own standards of courtesy while keeping my eyes on the road. That courteous, barely detectable movement was enough for me to be able to
notice something unusual—no, not just unusual, something that went against everything I knew to be within the realm of possibility. Shurf had just finished taking off the protective glove
from his left hand. His death-dealing inner glove—the former hand of the dead Magician Kiba Attsax—shone in the twilight of the evening, cutting through the orange mist of the street
lamps with its dangerous whiteness.

    If I had allowed myself even a second to evaluate the situation, if I had wasted any time on doubt, reflection, or even panic, death—my indefatigable companion—would definitely have
caught up with me that night. Yet I didn’t even bother to assess the situation. Praise be the Magicians, I didn’t waste time trying to understand something that could not be understood.
Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, my most predictable and reliable friend, who, according to my naive, childish notions, held the World on his shoulders, was about to kill me there and then without
elaborating on the details of his eccentric intention, to put it mildly.
    I hit the brakes, and the amobiler stopped as abruptly as it could. Even lucky boys like me rarely get away with a trick like that, but I was spared. Something cracked in my right wrist, which
had been squeezing the lever, but unlike the face of my passenger, mine didn’t hit the windshield. He hadn’t expected such a turn of events, so he catapulted out of his seat.
Instinctively, he threw his left hand with the death-dealing glove forward, to protect his head. The windshield died a quick and painless death, leaving only a pile of silvery ashes behind. Barely
realizing what I was doing, I picked up the protective glove from the floor of the amobiler, grabbed the arm with the lethal hand just below the elbow joint, and yanked the protective glove onto
it. I think I acted faster than was humanly possible: the entire operation took less, much less, than a second.
    “Quit it with your stunts, you reptile!” the creature hissed.
    What else would you call it? That voice didn’t belong to my friend Shurf. No way. Not in a million years.
    It had taken the creature an instant to recover; it was spoiling for a fight. I was surprised I had managed to pull anything off at all, but I didn’t have time to be puzzled. I
didn’t have much time for anything.
    Completely on their own, the fingers of my left hand snapped a short, dry snap, producing a tiny green fireball, a Lethal Sphere. None other than Shurf Lonli-Lokli himself had taught me this
trick way back when. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d ever run me through a test that would cost me my life if I failed it.
    “What a load of crap! All your tricks are useless, you snake. You haven’t learned a thing,” my colleague said, laughing, and he caught my Lethal Sphere with his right hand,