Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) by James A. Hillebrecht Page A

source, but this creature was still far too young and impulsive. Its head turned to the side as if listening, and it quickly slipped down an intersecting corridor, moving out of Malcolm’s way.
    If only all the encounters could be that simple, he thought.
    Another distant sound attracted the attention of the robin in the corridors behind him, and Malcolm concentrated, trying to identify it. He sent the robin flying back to investigate, but the little bird had gone only the shortest distance before it simply popped out of existence. Malcolm frowned, the nervousness rising sharply within him. The spell should have lasted for at least another hour, and while there were many things that could have disrupted the magic, the most likely explanation was that the spell had simply been cancelled by another caster.
    A dragon. And one with magic to augment all his other powers.
    Then, an instant later, both the wren and the sparrow vanished as well, the magic destroyed. The nervousness turned to real fear, and Malcolm moved quickly forward, knowing the short distance between himself and where the birds had been would still be safe for a few moments. He reached an intersecting corridor and immediately ducked down it, but while his mind assured him this was a wise move, some sixth sense warned him. He slowed, moving cautiously, as if walking the rim of a trap, waiting for the first sign of the spring.
    A distant sound, like wind sweeping through a narrow tunnel, and with a thrill of terror, Malcolm knew his death was upon him. With only an instant in which to act, he desperately spun and held up the ebony staff, sending forth his power blindly, and in that same moment, he was enveloped in a blazing inferno that filled all the corridor, a deluge of fire that seemed to incinerate the entire world, the flame deflected around him only by his thin shield of power. For endless seconds, he endured that conflagration, the sheer heat penetrating his shield, singeing his skin and hair, slowly cooking him within his own protections, the shield itself beginning to give way, for nothing could endure long in the midst of such power. Just as he was beginning to stagger beneath the onslaught, the fire vanished as abruptly as it had begun, leaving him staring at the long neck and fierce face of a huge red-gold dragon. Even as he blinked, Malcolm could see the beast was slowly drawing in more air to replace the fiery breath he had just unleashed, readying another attack.
    “Farla Car Alen!”
Malcolm cried, thrusting forth his staff and sending the invisible shield which had saved him flying forward. The force smashed into the dragon like a monstrous fist, sending him reeling backwards, and Malcolm gave him no chance to recover.
    “Farla Carn Abu Senta Len!”
he roared, and the invisible shield smashed down on the dragon’s head, pinning him to the floor of the cave. The creature thrashed wildly, his tail striking the walls and making the entire cave tremble, but Malcolm held his staff steady, knowing the dragon was powerless.
    “You are far too rash, Albathor,” Malcolm said calmly to the dragon, knowing that hearing his proper name from the lips of a mortal would be even more degrading than being held by the spell. “Your youth has betrayed you. Even a wizard’s apprentice knows a dragon can have no magical protections up if he is using his fire-breath.”
    “And what do novices know of a father’s wrath?” asked a deep voice behind him. Malcolm whirled instantly, his stomach churning with fear at being caught unprepared. There, rising up from the floor of the cave was the head of a gigantic dragon, nearly twice the size of the prostrate Albathor, its whiskers as thick as a man’s arm, its white teeth each the length of a full double-handed sword.
    Mraxdavar, breathed Malcolm to himself. And he’s caught me in a corridor of his own choosing. A gesture with his staff released the force holding down the younger dragon, and a subtle twist of a