By Dan Parkinson
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You're the final of the remainder! ” Kistilan repeated. “Do you're thinking that i haven't long past earlier the powers? Do you're thinking that I hesitate to take advantage of them? ” Seething, he hurled flames and lightning bolts from his fingertips. Megistal used to be pressured backward through the sheer may possibly of the evil magic pounding at his shields. He had anticipated elemental forces, yet had now not notion that Kistilan may have so corrupted them. They have been now whatever new and implacable. Megistal attempted to counterattack with spells of his personal, however the depth of the black-robe’s magic buffeted him. It used to be impossible that quite a bit strength will be unleashed by way of one guy, and but it used to be, and the darkish wizard elevated its focus moment through moment. Kistilan was once on the restrict of his energy, drawing upon the natural hatreds that lived inside him to provide strength to his spells. He focused, amplified, and regenerated the powers notable from his hands and observed the red-moon mage start to fall down. Then, without notice, the magic was once damaged, and Kistilan came across himself mendacity facedown at the difficult floor. anything had kicked his toes out from lower than him. He became his head and seemed up on the angriest face he had ever visible. Damon Omenborn, nonetheless harm and shaken from the torments of magic, stood over the fallen wizard, evident at him. “You dare …” Damon kicked the wizard solidly within the ribs. “I dare,” he growled. “That guy there”—he pointed at Megistal—“I have despised, simply because he's a wizard. simply because he makes use of magic. yet he isn't an evil guy. I see that now. he's a mage, yet not anything such as you. He isn’t evil. you're! ” Stooping, the dwarf grasped the man’s lapels and lifted him as a baby may elevate a large rag doll. The mage spat, hissed, and commenced to mutter, and a difficult dwarven hand slapped him so tough his the teeth clicked jointly. The wizard’s eyes went wild, and his hand pointed on the dwarf. a troublesome glare lashed out at Damon and ended all of sudden as a human arrow—a Cobar arrow—pierced Kistilan’s hand. Then Megistal shouted whatever that used to be in no language in any respect. Kistilan’s eyes opened broad, and he gasped. To Damon, it appeared that he unexpectedly turned as mild as a feather, and the dwarf clung extra tightly to the material of the man’s cloak. however the textile thinned, turned like smoke, and parted in his hand. Kistilan whimpered, and Damon learned unexpectedly that he might see all the way through the man’s head. For a second, Kistilan hung there, gasping, fading away. Then he used to be long gone, and Damon stood on my own with an empty fist. A hand got here from someplace to leisure on his shoulder. Damon half-turned, taking a look up on the unhappy face of a dissatisfied wizard. “You had such energy all alongside? ” he requested. “I had it,” Megistal admitted. “Then, all these occasions … available in the market, and within the valley … you have killed me. you've got killed us all. ” “Yes, i guess so. ” “Why didn’t you? ” “You have been correct in what you informed Kistilan,” the mage admitted. “I am—by your views—a vile factor, a magic-user. yet i'm really not evil, Damon. many people are usually not. ” “Favored of the powers,” Damon muttered.