Trail Of The Torean (Book 2) by Ron Collins Read Free Book Online

the planewalker’s magic.
    He peered into the nighttime, but saw nothing.
    One of Garrick’s roles under Alistair had been that of the greeter. As such, Alistair had taught him to read auras, and how to give his superior a proper briefing even when in a stranger’s company. It struck him to wonder if he could see anything in that spectrum now, so he gave a hand movement and a precise phrasing, then reached for his link to the plane of magic.
    Magestuff flowed easily.
    The flavor of standard spell work seemed almost pedestrian, now. He twisted his thoughts and brought the flow through his gates. His vision shifted between spectrums and he saw putrid globs of green and indigo blue hanging from the trees. A rotting, sulfurous odor bubbled from the ground, and he saw a rolling pool of black ooze slithering toward them.
    One of the horses shied.
    “Is something wrong?” Darien asked, also standing. He drew his sword with the slick sound of leather on steel.
    Darien’s meddling was the last thing Garrick needed.
    “Just stay back,” he said.
    Darien stepped forward with a soldier’s efficiency. “What is it?” he said.
    “I said to stay back!”
    A thick-limbed form rose up in Garrick’s vision, black and featureless, its legs disappearing into the oily mass below its mid-calf. Eerie light glistened from its body as it stood empty and cold before Garrick, arms outstretched, and drawing on his life force like an ocean tide draws upon a beach.
    We need.
The monster spoke.
    “We?” Garrick said aloud.
    “What do you see?” Darien said, definitely
not
staying back. “Is something out there?”
    More beings rose from the blackness. Rain glistened off their slick skins. They kept coming until Garrick lost track of their count. Five to the left, two immediately before him, two in the trees, four behind the first, a half dozen by the outcropping. They smelled of sulfur. He nearly gagged as their odor grew caustic and stifling.
    The closest creature flashed a cold tentacle toward Darien.
    “Ah!” Darien yelled as he fell to one knee, slashing blindly at whatever had hurt him.
    By chance his blade caught black flesh, and the monster withdrew, giving an ethereal scream. The rest of the pack sluiced closer together, pinning them against the stone cliff.
    Blood ran down Darien’s shoulder and over his arm. His weapon gleamed with a lavender shade of purple.
    Angry, Garrick pulled sorcery from his link and placed a simple barrier around them—the only defensive spell Alistair had taught him. A spine-tingling screech rose as the creatures fell upon the dome. Black ooze sizzled with a smoky odor. Garrick spoke an arcane river of words to maintain the translucent barrier, then pushed on it to give himself room.
    “What is it?” Darien said, holding his shoulder.
    “Get out of my way,” Garrick yelled, grunting under the strain, and managing to push Darien back with one hand.
    “Who are you?” he said to the creatures.
    A thousand voices wailed in discordant unison.
    Shariaen. We are Shariaen.
    Darien regained his feet and held his sword in his good hand as he peered through the barrier and into the darkness.
    “Stay back,” Garrick said, his exasperation clear. “They can’t touch you while the barrier stands.”
    Wonder of wonders, Darien actually stood back.
    The Shariaen pushed forward, but Garrick fortified the spell with more magestuff and they backed away. He had never sustained sorcery for this long before, though, and he knew he would fatigue rapidly.
    Shariaen … Shariaen … Shariaen …
    The voices clamored inside his head until he thought he may be going insane.
    “I don’t understand,” Garrick yelled at them as he held the shield. “What are the Shariaen?”
    “Shariaen?” Darien said.
    Garrick had no time to respond.
    The creatures made a large push, and the barrier bent. If he didn’t do something soon, these things would work their way through it. He felt the power of Braxidane’s magic