know fear, and it didn’t know panic.
It possessed intent and the intelligence to carry it out, but not knowing fear
and panic it had not joined in with the stampede to escape the marketplace. It
had merely continued on its way, trying to avoid pursuit and following its
primitive instinct to use guile and avoid drawing attention to itself.
And that was why it was following the fast-thinning and
disappearing crowd at a distance, and moving much slower than it might if it
had known that a Sighted elf ranger had his eyes fixed firmly on its dark
signature.
“MiThal!” Venderrian called.
“Take the shot Ven!” Gawain replied without hesitation,
seeing the blue-clad figure loping between the stalls.
Venderrian didn’t stop. As he leapt over scattered bolts of
Arrunwove silkcloth he swung his bow into position, drew the string, and loosed
almost the moment his boots hit the ground.
Gawain saw the white streak of the arrow and saw it smack
dead centre into the creature’s back. He saw the thing go down hard, face-first
into the cobbles of the vast market square, and was about to cheer when he
remembered another arrow and another Grimmand at the foot of the Downland Pass.
Arrows would not stop the creature.
But the arrow did make the creature angry. Whatever its
former intent, whoever its target might have been, and Gawain and doubtless
everyone else could guess who that might be, it now knew it had been
discovered, and self-preservation demanded the destruction of those attacking
it.
It turned to face them, and Gawain saw a plain-looking man
in his late thirties, smartly clad in colourful garb and a jaunty blue cape and
hood. A cape and hood which the creature shirked off as its true form made
itself manifest.
“ Tireandanam! ” Allazar shouted, and presented the
white staff, cutting loose with a gout of white fire which blasted shards of
cobbles in all directions as it tore along the ground towards the advancing
creature.
Fire struck the thing full in the chest, burning away the
gaily-coloured clothing in an instant, lifting the foul creation off its feet
and hurling it backwards through the air.
“Allazar…” Gawain began, stomach lurching.
The wizard sneered, jerked the staff back to the port
position across his chest, and sniffed his disgust at the thing and his
satisfaction with a job well done.
“Allazar!” Gawain declared again, watching as the Grimmand
dragged itself to its feet and began advancing upon them again.
The wizard blinked, his jaw sank, and he gaped in total
astonishment.
Charging towards them was no ordinary Grimmand, a form-shifting
creature of aquamire able to take on the appearance of any man or woman
unfortunate enough to fall victim to the creature. Its skin sparkled, twinkled
almost, like a cloud of stars or a bejewelled diadem. Venderrian’s bow thrummed
again, and another white streak sped across the shortening distance between
them and the arrow’s target.
“Rock-crystal…” Gawain heard the wizard mumble as the
longshaft smashed into the Grimmand’s chest, sending out a puff of fine dust
before the wound sealed itself and the spent arrow clattered harmlessly on the
cobbles.
Allazar blinked away his shock and loosed another stream of
white fire into the thing, again checking its headlong charge towards them and
knocking it off its feet. As soon as the wizard’s stream of fire winked out
Gawain charged forward, sword readied. But another shape thundered past him
over the cobbled ground. Gwyn, squealing in fury, feeling her chosen’s
intentions and acting on them, sprinting the twenty yards to the Grimmand
faster than any man could hope to cover the distance.
The creature had barely made it up onto its hands and knees
before the Raheen charger was rearing up, squealing in rage and then slamming
mighty hooves down upon its crystal-covered back and head. Gawain skidded to a
halt on the well-worn cobbles, poised, grinning like a madman and feeling once
again the joy of
It possessed intent and the intelligence to carry it out, but not knowing fear
and panic it had not joined in with the stampede to escape the marketplace. It
had merely continued on its way, trying to avoid pursuit and following its
primitive instinct to use guile and avoid drawing attention to itself.
And that was why it was following the fast-thinning and
disappearing crowd at a distance, and moving much slower than it might if it
had known that a Sighted elf ranger had his eyes fixed firmly on its dark
signature.
“MiThal!” Venderrian called.
“Take the shot Ven!” Gawain replied without hesitation,
seeing the blue-clad figure loping between the stalls.
Venderrian didn’t stop. As he leapt over scattered bolts of
Arrunwove silkcloth he swung his bow into position, drew the string, and loosed
almost the moment his boots hit the ground.
Gawain saw the white streak of the arrow and saw it smack
dead centre into the creature’s back. He saw the thing go down hard, face-first
into the cobbles of the vast market square, and was about to cheer when he
remembered another arrow and another Grimmand at the foot of the Downland Pass.
Arrows would not stop the creature.
But the arrow did make the creature angry. Whatever its
former intent, whoever its target might have been, and Gawain and doubtless
everyone else could guess who that might be, it now knew it had been
discovered, and self-preservation demanded the destruction of those attacking
it.
It turned to face them, and Gawain saw a plain-looking man
in his late thirties, smartly clad in colourful garb and a jaunty blue cape and
hood. A cape and hood which the creature shirked off as its true form made
itself manifest.
“ Tireandanam! ” Allazar shouted, and presented the
white staff, cutting loose with a gout of white fire which blasted shards of
cobbles in all directions as it tore along the ground towards the advancing
creature.
Fire struck the thing full in the chest, burning away the
gaily-coloured clothing in an instant, lifting the foul creation off its feet
and hurling it backwards through the air.
“Allazar…” Gawain began, stomach lurching.
The wizard sneered, jerked the staff back to the port
position across his chest, and sniffed his disgust at the thing and his
satisfaction with a job well done.
“Allazar!” Gawain declared again, watching as the Grimmand
dragged itself to its feet and began advancing upon them again.
The wizard blinked, his jaw sank, and he gaped in total
astonishment.
Charging towards them was no ordinary Grimmand, a form-shifting
creature of aquamire able to take on the appearance of any man or woman
unfortunate enough to fall victim to the creature. Its skin sparkled, twinkled
almost, like a cloud of stars or a bejewelled diadem. Venderrian’s bow thrummed
again, and another white streak sped across the shortening distance between
them and the arrow’s target.
“Rock-crystal…” Gawain heard the wizard mumble as the
longshaft smashed into the Grimmand’s chest, sending out a puff of fine dust
before the wound sealed itself and the spent arrow clattered harmlessly on the
cobbles.
Allazar blinked away his shock and loosed another stream of
white fire into the thing, again checking its headlong charge towards them and
knocking it off its feet. As soon as the wizard’s stream of fire winked out
Gawain charged forward, sword readied. But another shape thundered past him
over the cobbled ground. Gwyn, squealing in fury, feeling her chosen’s
intentions and acting on them, sprinting the twenty yards to the Grimmand
faster than any man could hope to cover the distance.
The creature had barely made it up onto its hands and knees
before the Raheen charger was rearing up, squealing in rage and then slamming
mighty hooves down upon its crystal-covered back and head. Gawain skidded to a
halt on the well-worn cobbles, poised, grinning like a madman and feeling once
again the joy of
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