A Wizard Alone-Young wizards 6 by Diane Duane

Author:Diane Duane [Duane, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, General, Action & Adventure, Social Issues, Death & Dying
ISBN: 9781417819577
Google: RYEYOAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0152055096
Barnesnoble: 0152055096
Publisher: San Val
Published: 2001-12-31T06:00:00+00:00

worked. It’s distracted, Ponch said. And Darryl’s moving. Come on.

Ponch pulled on the leash, and Kit followed him across the squeaking blue snow, while every

now and then a new and ferocious gust of wind blue-whited everything out. “Snow tonight,” a voice

said from somewhere immeasurably distant.

“You heard it that time, right?” Kit said.

I heard something, Ponch said. And then he paused in midstep. I hear something besides that,

too.

Kit waited.

Wings—

Kit listened, but couldn’t make anything out except that the wind was rising, the hiss scaling up

to a soft roar. The last time he’d heard a wind like this was when the hurricane had come through

three years ago. The hurricane, though, had at least sounded impersonal in its rage. The sound of this

wind had a more intimate quality, invasive, as if it was purposely pointed at Kit. And the voices

were part of it.

“—won’t be able to—”

“—and in local news tonight—

“—wish I could understand why, but there’s no point in even asking, I guess—”

“—come on, love, we need to get this on you. No, don’t do that. Remember what we talked

about—”

The voices somehow both spoke at normal volume and screamed in Kit’s ears, intrusive, grating,

maddening. He couldn’t shut them out. He opened his manual and hurriedly went through it to the

section that would allow him to soundproof the force field, for the voices were scaling up into the

deafening range now, an ever increasing roar. The noise wasn’t just made up of voices, either. Music

was part of it, too, but music gone horribly wrong, screeching at him, and also sounds that might

have come from Kit’s own house, a door closing, someone opening a drawer, sounds that were

magnified past bearing, intolerable—

Kit recited the wizardry, having to do it nearly at the top of his lungs to hear himself think. To

his great relief, it took; he could tell that the sound all around him outside the force field was still

rising, but now at least it was muted to a tolerable level. “Wow,” he said to Ponch, who was shaking

his own head, also troubled by the noise.

I lost him, Ponch said. He moved again. He moves very fast sometimes. He—

Ponch’s head whipped around. Kit looked the way his dog was looking, through the blowing

blue snow, just in time to catch sight of the thin young shape running past them, dressed in nothing

but jeans and a T-shirt, running through the terrible cold and wind, running headlong, a little sloped

forward from the waist as Kit had seen him running for the van at school.

“Darryl!” Kit shouted. “Hey, Darryl, wait up!”

Darryl turned his head for just a flash, looking toward Kit. For a fraction of a second, their eyes

met.

Darryl ran on. Kit reeled back as if someone had hit him across the face, and staggered with

shock and pain. He had felt, for that second, what Darryl had felt: the unbearable pain of another

person’s regard.

Kit had sometimes found it hard to look into someone else’s eyes, but that was nothing like this.

This pain denied even the existence of the one who looked back.

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