TKC 308
I hear only a whisper of sound, which means Lorn is deaf to
it. While I marvel at Gennerin’s ability to move stealthily, I silently urge
him to be swift.
He is.
A bolt smacks into the arch of Lorn’s left foot, piercing
the leather as if it is mere paper. As our uncle screams another bolt
penetrates his right ankle. Screeching, Lorn Makar hits the floor hard. I sweat
the second arrow shattered his ankle.
Lorn can no longer stand, never mind walk. Advantage is
ours. Well done, Commander Gennerin.
Enris and Damin hurtle forward together and hold the
flailing man down. He continues to scream, now obscenity and agony.
Kay whispers in my ear from behind, “Incapacitate his hands
also. A sorcerer does not need his feet to dispense spells.”
The westerner is on the mark. I immediately stride forward
to kneel beside our uncle. Without looking at either Enris or Damin, I smack my
glowing hands onto my uncle’s and grip hard.
The man screams as if devils pursue him, and fire licks over
my shin and his. Green fire. By the stars, it is an odd sight; there is actual
fire and it is hot as hell’s acid, but my skin remains whole. Unfortunately I cannot
say the same for Lorn’s hands.
His fingers blacken and curl, with foul tendrils twirling
upwards. It is sickening to witness, but this man poisoned our father; there is
no mercy he deserves.
Enris lays one hand on the burning clasp. “Enough,” he
murmurs. He must feel the unholy heat, but he keeps his hand in place. “Let go,
Iniri.”
I let go. Stumbling up, I turn away to retch repeatedly.
Lorn Makar is silent; he is unconscious and I do not care.
Siri kneels beside the prone form, touching him briefly.
Drawing in a breath, she looks up at me. “We need him to talk, yes? Then he
needs some healing. He will die otherwise.”
“I don’t care!” I shout.
“But I do,” Enris says grimly. “We have to know how far this
goes. Siri, heal him only to stave off death.”
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