“Do you not sit down and dine on animal flesh? Wear their skins as clothing?” The thing wearing Cere’s body sneered. “Why should I care about your kind?”
Now!Peter shouted in Martin’s mind.
Martin kept Thomoth’s attention, channeling magic through his connection with his lover. He met Thomoth’s gaze and looked his enemy in the eyes. Raw hatred and fury, things he’d never expected to see in Cere, and something he hoped to never see again.
It took effort to strike the image of a friend. Every attack would tear at Martin’s soul. He launched a ball of mage fire and ducked behind a statue. The stone shattered with return fire.
Lying flat on the marble floor, Martin watched in horror as Cere hurled a fireball toward Dmitri. Xariel lunged, knocking Dmitri to the floor. The flames roared over their heads.
“Ah, little mortals. You can’t expect to defeat me.” Not-Cere’s voice held a touch of strain. Could this magic-eating monster tire?
In his mind, Martin focused on Peter. Nothing. No! He should be safe, wherever he hid. Pain sliced up Martin’s arm. He rolled behind an urn. Water! He overshot and deluged himself with water. The fire went out. The pain remained.
No time for a healing spell now.
Thomoth lobbed raw power. A column cracked, sending marble crashing to the floor. Dmitri barely missed a cornice aimed at his head. For one moment, he lost his balance. Thomoth took advantage, slamming Dmitri against the wall with another blast of power.
Xariel and Martin attacked at once, from two directions. Thomoth easily blocked them both, a sneer on Cere’s lips. Dmitri recovered, joining them, throwing everything they had at the creature.
Was Thomoth’s power unending? All Martin’s concentration centered on the enemy. No time to search for Peter or consider what happened outside.
This being destroyed world after world, defeated thousands of mages. Who was Martin to think he stood a chance?
Martin heard a child’s voice.“I want to fight To-moff!”
A voice from long ago answered,“I believe you would. There are always two.”
On the edges of Martin’s perception, Peter sent strength. Martin stood before Thomoth and screamed out his rage, his pain, releasing a barrage of energy with the sound. Thomoth fell backwards, the fireball in his hands bouncing off the ceiling in a shower of sparks.
Martin ducked behind a shattered column, peering out from behind his shelter. A blast of yellow fire engulfed Xariel. His scream rent the quiet as he writhed in agony.
Dmitri lunged at Xariel, shoving power toward Thomoth.
And joined Xariel in flames.
What to do? What to do? An image popped into Martin’s head of a villager dousing a fire with snow. He channeled energy, focusing on cold, snow, a fire going out, and threw out his hands. The shot encased both of Martin’s grandfathers in ice. For one moment, time stopped. Xariel and Dmitri faced each other, light and dark, good and evil, frozen.
But weren’t those relative terms?
The ice melted in awhooshof water cascading across polished marble. Xariel and Dmitri dropped to the floor.
Xariel lay motionless, Dmitri panting beside him.
Still, Thomoth came.
Garamel stomped into the sanctuary, along with his bond mate. Thomoth hurled a fireball. The two Dreckons glowed, the glow gradually fading as they absorbed the magic. Garamel grinned. “Thank you. What a lovely meal.” He approached, nothing but teeth and claws for weapons. Did he plan to kill Cere’s body?
Thomoth grinned. “Your race never learned, did they?” This time, instead of shooting a fireball, Thomoth made a “come here” motion with his hand. Garamel screeched. Golden light poured from him. His mate grabbed hold, only to join in the screaming. What was Thomoth doing to them?
In the midst of their agony, Martin swore he saw the pair smile.
“Stop!” Martin stepped out from behind his column. “Let them go!” The golden light stopped. Garamel and the other Dreckon fell to the floor, eyes closed. Were they dead? No time left to check now.
Martin raised a hand. Nothing. Panic caught him in an iron grasp, crushing the air from his lungs. “I’m sorry, Peter,” he whispered. No, he was sorry,Petran.How foolish they’d been to think they could match Thomoth, who’d already defeated so many others before.
Thomoth’s laugh raised goosebumps on Martin’s skin as Thomoth raised his hand. Nothing happened. The laughter stopped. Thomoth tried again. Had Garamel somehow tainted the creature’s magic?
Through billowing smoke, a figure emerged. No!
