materialized before him, this one dressed in shimmering robes of brilliant green with gold and ruby starbursts dotting the chest. A cowl obscured most of the night elf’s long, narrow visage, but he seemed undaunted by the huge, brutish orc coming up on him.
Brox waved his ax and shouted, trying to scare off the night elf.
The hooded figure raised one hand to chest level, the index and middle fingers pointed toward the moonlit sky.
The orc recognized a spell being cast, but by that time it was already too late.
To his astonishment, a circular sliver of the moon fell from the sky, falling upon Brox like a soft, misty blanket. As it enshrouded him, the orc’s arms grew heavy and his legs weak. He had to fight to keep his eyelids open.
The ax slipping from his limp grasp, Brox fell to his knees. Through the silvery haze, he now saw other similarly clad figures circling him. The hooded forms stood patiently, obviously watching the spell’s work.
A sense of fury ignited Brox. With a low snarl, he managed to push himself up to his feet. This was not the glorious death he had wanted! The night elves intended that he fall at their feet like a helpless infant! He would not do it!
Fumbling fingers managed to seize the ax again. To his pleasure, he noted some of the hooded figures start. They had not expected such resistance.
But as he tried to raise his weapon, a second silvery veil settled over him. What strength Brox had summoned vanished again. When the ax fell this time, he knew he would be unable to retrieve it.
The orc took one wobbly step, then fell forward. Even then, Brox tried to crawl toward his foes, determined not to make their victory an easy one.
A third veil dropped over him…and Brox blacked out.
* * *
Three nights…three nights and still nothing to show for our efforts…
Xavius was not pleased.
Three of the Highborne sorcerers stepped back from the continual spellwork. They were immediately replaced by those who had managed to replenish their strength with some overdue rest. Xavius’s false black eyes turned to the three who had just finished. One of them noticed the dark orbs gazing their direction and cringed. The Highborne might be the most glorious of the queen’s servants, but Lord Xavius was the most glorious—and dangerous—of the Highborne.
“Tomorrow night…tomorrow night we shall increase the field of power tenfold,” he declared, the crimson streaks in his eyes flaring.
Unable to meet his gaze, one of the other Highborne nonetheless dared say, “W-with all due respect, my Lord Xavius, that risks much! Such an additional increase may destabilize all we have already accomplished.”
“And what is that, Peroth’arn?” Xavius loomed over the other robed figures, his shadow seeming to move of its own accord in the mad light of the spell. “What have we accomplished?”
“Why, we command more power than any night elf has ever commanded before!”
Xavius nodded, then frowned. “Yes, and with it, we can squash an insect with a mountain-sized hammer! You are a shortsighted fool, Peroth’arn! Consider yourself fortunate that your skill is demanded for this effort.”
Clamping his mouth shut, the other night elf bowed his head gratefully.
The queen’s counselor looked with disdain upon the rest of the Highborne. “What we seek to do, we need perfect manipulation of the Well to accomplish! We must have the ability to slay the insect without its even realizing the death until after the fact! We must have such precision, such a fine touch, that there will be no question as to the perfect execution of our final goal! We—”
“Preaching again, my darling Xavius?”
The melodic voice would have enchanted any of the other Highborne into killing themselves if it would please the speaker, but not so the onyx-eyed Xavius. With a careless gesture, he dismissed the weary spellcasters, then turned to the one person in the palace who did not rightly show him the respect he
Brox waved his ax and shouted, trying to scare off the night elf.
The hooded figure raised one hand to chest level, the index and middle fingers pointed toward the moonlit sky.
The orc recognized a spell being cast, but by that time it was already too late.
To his astonishment, a circular sliver of the moon fell from the sky, falling upon Brox like a soft, misty blanket. As it enshrouded him, the orc’s arms grew heavy and his legs weak. He had to fight to keep his eyelids open.
The ax slipping from his limp grasp, Brox fell to his knees. Through the silvery haze, he now saw other similarly clad figures circling him. The hooded forms stood patiently, obviously watching the spell’s work.
A sense of fury ignited Brox. With a low snarl, he managed to push himself up to his feet. This was not the glorious death he had wanted! The night elves intended that he fall at their feet like a helpless infant! He would not do it!
Fumbling fingers managed to seize the ax again. To his pleasure, he noted some of the hooded figures start. They had not expected such resistance.
But as he tried to raise his weapon, a second silvery veil settled over him. What strength Brox had summoned vanished again. When the ax fell this time, he knew he would be unable to retrieve it.
The orc took one wobbly step, then fell forward. Even then, Brox tried to crawl toward his foes, determined not to make their victory an easy one.
A third veil dropped over him…and Brox blacked out.
* * *
Three nights…three nights and still nothing to show for our efforts…
Xavius was not pleased.
Three of the Highborne sorcerers stepped back from the continual spellwork. They were immediately replaced by those who had managed to replenish their strength with some overdue rest. Xavius’s false black eyes turned to the three who had just finished. One of them noticed the dark orbs gazing their direction and cringed. The Highborne might be the most glorious of the queen’s servants, but Lord Xavius was the most glorious—and dangerous—of the Highborne.
“Tomorrow night…tomorrow night we shall increase the field of power tenfold,” he declared, the crimson streaks in his eyes flaring.
Unable to meet his gaze, one of the other Highborne nonetheless dared say, “W-with all due respect, my Lord Xavius, that risks much! Such an additional increase may destabilize all we have already accomplished.”
“And what is that, Peroth’arn?” Xavius loomed over the other robed figures, his shadow seeming to move of its own accord in the mad light of the spell. “What have we accomplished?”
“Why, we command more power than any night elf has ever commanded before!”
Xavius nodded, then frowned. “Yes, and with it, we can squash an insect with a mountain-sized hammer! You are a shortsighted fool, Peroth’arn! Consider yourself fortunate that your skill is demanded for this effort.”
Clamping his mouth shut, the other night elf bowed his head gratefully.
The queen’s counselor looked with disdain upon the rest of the Highborne. “What we seek to do, we need perfect manipulation of the Well to accomplish! We must have the ability to slay the insect without its even realizing the death until after the fact! We must have such precision, such a fine touch, that there will be no question as to the perfect execution of our final goal! We—”
“Preaching again, my darling Xavius?”
The melodic voice would have enchanted any of the other Highborne into killing themselves if it would please the speaker, but not so the onyx-eyed Xavius. With a careless gesture, he dismissed the weary spellcasters, then turned to the one person in the palace who did not rightly show him the respect he
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