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Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] by Alastair J. Archibald Page A
Authors: Alastair J. Archibald
Tags: Science-Fiction
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young Questor. At that moment, Grimm's eyelids sprung wide, revealing cool yet somehow intense purpose. The demon stepped back, astonished at the sudden change the drugs had wrought.
* * * *
Grimm shook his head as if clearing a cloud of midges, and unbidden words began to pound in his head: I am Grimm Afelnor. I am strong. I shall prevail.
He scrambled to his feet as if drunk, but he managed to steady himself before the titanic figure of Shakkar with an expression of implacable, emotionless determination on his face.
"The herbs have done their work, Shakkar. I know what I must do, and although I am filled with resolve, no taint of emotion clouds my judgement. I am ready. Fear not, for I still have every intention of fulfilling our compact. Thanks to the power you have given me, I feel confident of success."
"Good luck and good hunting, human,” Shakkar growled.
Grimm muttered nonsensical phrases and began to draw power into his sensorium. The rhythmic babbling rose in volume and tone as a blue glow began to shimmer about the Questor. He struggled to contain the mighty energies as he cast the spell, knowing that the consequences of a miscast spell could be disastrous. As the magical tension rose within him to an almost unbearable volcano of inner flame, he gained clear, magical Sight of his goal and pushed.
* * * *
Grimm found himself standing in the treasure store of Starmor's tower. A dim, cool portion of his brain told him he must act quickly, before the wizard became aware of his presence. The door to the winding stairway was locked, but Grimm still felt Shakkar's power surging within him. It took but a moment to pocket the Eye of Myrrn and to step through the open doorway. He made his way up the worn stone steps and, although assailed on all sides by the tormented voices of Starmor's entombed victims, he felt no fear, protected as he was by the effects of the Trina leaves whose fumes he had inhaled. An imposing doorway stood before him and Grimm found it unlocked. He entered into a huge and splendid hall furnished in crimson and gold. In the centre of the room stood an ornate throne, in which was seated the familiar figure of Starmor.
"Greetings, puny child,” the pale Baron sneered. “I see you have won free from the tender mercies of the witless Shakkar. You will, alas, find me a far more formidable foe than you can imagine, as you should well realise even with your worthless excuse for a brain. Attack as you will. It will avail you little, and you will soon be whiling away the remaining dregs of your miserable existence and wishing with every fibre of your being you had let Shakkar eat you."
Grimm reached forth a hand and loosed a spell of what he thought of as Nerve Fire . The spell splashed against Starmor, and the wizard just managed to fend off the coruscating green tendrils that played over his body. A small frown crossed his face as he released a counter-spell that Grimm dismissed with an easy gesture.
"Starmor, enough of this foolishness,” Grimm said, without rancour or irritation clouding his mind. “I am protected against any magic you may command, for I have full control over my emotions. You will return my companions from their respective prisons, or I will destroy you. Witness the extent of my power." Grimm muttered a well-learned runic chant and made a complex series of passes with his hands; a glittering pentacle appeared on the oaken floor. Visualising clearly the ebon pillar where he had been imprisoned, he chanted a series of syllables and pulled Shakkar through the ether to the centre of the pentacle. The demon spun on his clawed feet, taking in his new surroundings. As he noticed Starmor, he bounded forward and met the invisible and invulnerable wall of the pentacle. He looked towards Grimm.
"Questor Grimm: you are a friend indeed! Free me from this cage, so I may mete out to Starmor his just deserts!” He scrabbled with his huge claws at the invisible, adamantine wall of the
* * * *
Grimm shook his head as if clearing a cloud of midges, and unbidden words began to pound in his head: I am Grimm Afelnor. I am strong. I shall prevail.
He scrambled to his feet as if drunk, but he managed to steady himself before the titanic figure of Shakkar with an expression of implacable, emotionless determination on his face.
"The herbs have done their work, Shakkar. I know what I must do, and although I am filled with resolve, no taint of emotion clouds my judgement. I am ready. Fear not, for I still have every intention of fulfilling our compact. Thanks to the power you have given me, I feel confident of success."
"Good luck and good hunting, human,” Shakkar growled.
Grimm muttered nonsensical phrases and began to draw power into his sensorium. The rhythmic babbling rose in volume and tone as a blue glow began to shimmer about the Questor. He struggled to contain the mighty energies as he cast the spell, knowing that the consequences of a miscast spell could be disastrous. As the magical tension rose within him to an almost unbearable volcano of inner flame, he gained clear, magical Sight of his goal and pushed.
* * * *
Grimm found himself standing in the treasure store of Starmor's tower. A dim, cool portion of his brain told him he must act quickly, before the wizard became aware of his presence. The door to the winding stairway was locked, but Grimm still felt Shakkar's power surging within him. It took but a moment to pocket the Eye of Myrrn and to step through the open doorway. He made his way up the worn stone steps and, although assailed on all sides by the tormented voices of Starmor's entombed victims, he felt no fear, protected as he was by the effects of the Trina leaves whose fumes he had inhaled. An imposing doorway stood before him and Grimm found it unlocked. He entered into a huge and splendid hall furnished in crimson and gold. In the centre of the room stood an ornate throne, in which was seated the familiar figure of Starmor.
"Greetings, puny child,” the pale Baron sneered. “I see you have won free from the tender mercies of the witless Shakkar. You will, alas, find me a far more formidable foe than you can imagine, as you should well realise even with your worthless excuse for a brain. Attack as you will. It will avail you little, and you will soon be whiling away the remaining dregs of your miserable existence and wishing with every fibre of your being you had let Shakkar eat you."
Grimm reached forth a hand and loosed a spell of what he thought of as Nerve Fire . The spell splashed against Starmor, and the wizard just managed to fend off the coruscating green tendrils that played over his body. A small frown crossed his face as he released a counter-spell that Grimm dismissed with an easy gesture.
"Starmor, enough of this foolishness,” Grimm said, without rancour or irritation clouding his mind. “I am protected against any magic you may command, for I have full control over my emotions. You will return my companions from their respective prisons, or I will destroy you. Witness the extent of my power." Grimm muttered a well-learned runic chant and made a complex series of passes with his hands; a glittering pentacle appeared on the oaken floor. Visualising clearly the ebon pillar where he had been imprisoned, he chanted a series of syllables and pulled Shakkar through the ether to the centre of the pentacle. The demon spun on his clawed feet, taking in his new surroundings. As he noticed Starmor, he bounded forward and met the invisible and invulnerable wall of the pentacle. He looked towards Grimm.
"Questor Grimm: you are a friend indeed! Free me from this cage, so I may mete out to Starmor his just deserts!” He scrabbled with his huge claws at the invisible, adamantine wall of the
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