Stained Glass Monsters by Andrea Höst Page A

in protective circles. The Sentene usually worked in
pairs: a mage and a weapons-expert. Those with weapons, almost all
Kellian, had positioned themselves in alternating places between
their mages. Slightly closer were the Hands: more senior mages
responsible for unpicking complex castings and investigating
violations of the laws constraining mages.
    Almost fifty people, which must be at
least half of Tyrland's Sentene and Hands. They'd been diverted
from the urgent pursuit of Eferum-Get to form a wall around her,
which said something for the weight placed on the judgment of the
Kellian mage who'd made this decision. Rennyn wondered if it would
be enough and, looking around, spotted the woman she'd met in
Finton, Lady Weston.
    "I'll not be able to defend myself while
this goes on," she said. "They'll disperse again if I'm
interrupted."
    "My dear, if you can truly bring them,
be assured we will not be lax concerning their despatch."
    Rennyn nodded, and with a glance up at
the unsettling shadows lurking in the portico of the Devourer's
Temple, began casting. This was a spell of many phases, represented
by her three circles. The inner was similar to the gate she had
cast previously, but this time she didn't intend stepping into the
Eferum, but looking into it; to thin the veil between worlds so
that it became a window.
    The flags of the street faded to soot,
leaving the sigils forming the inner circle glowing white against
nothing. The second circle flared brightly as the dark flowed past
it, not stopping the tide but anchoring it so that it would not
extend beyond the borders of the original breach. A wave of cold
followed behind and Rennyn's breath puffed mist as she waited for
the full breach to be outlined. Even firmly anchored, almost the
entire width of the street was engulfed, with all but a few of her
defenders standing on the surface of a black lake.
    The Hand members were watching her with
open fascination, but not a single Sentene faced inward. They would
not turn their backs on Eferum-Get. That unity made Rennyn a little
more confident about survival, and she set her jaw to stop her
teeth from chattering as she activated the outer circle. Dark lines
began lifting from the surface of the lake, slowly at first, then
streaking upward and outward like a tarry sunburst. One, two, three
darted directly into the furthest recesses of the Devourer's
portico, but most spread far out into the city.
    They'd all passed through this point,
all the Eferum-Get loose in Asentyr. That was the connection she
exploited, making tangible the fact of their passage, turning it
into a visible trail.
    "Be ready," she said, lowering herself
to her knees then resting back on her heels. One hand she lifted to
press against her focus against her chest, warm with her body's
heat. The other she held above the surface of the dark beneath her.
Then, closing her eyes, she made a scooping, gathering motion, as
if collecting a tangle of black ribbons floating beneath the
surface. The trail became a thread, a link, a chain. And she hauled
on it.
    "Above!"
    Rennyn firmed her grip as whatever had
been lurking in the portico leapt straight at her. There was a
brief warmth as someone loosed a casting, then heavy meaty noises.
The noises were harder to block out, but she tried, hauling on the
icy, slippery tangle which joined the Eferum-Get to the breach
between the worlds. Hand over hand, dragging them back, her fingers
turning to sharp spikes of pain, then losing feeling.
    Sounds kept breaking through. Sharp
commands, the ring of steel on...something, bursts and whumps of
offensive casting. The staccato of hasty sigil writing. Her throat
and chest started to hurt, and it became as hard to breathe as it
was to hold on to the tangled, thinning rope, and that was very
hard indeed when only the effort it took to pull told her she still
had it.
    The thinner it grew, the heavier it
seemed, until she finally realised that she wasn't able to pull the
last strand any