Divine Hammer: 2 (The Kingpriest Trilogy) by Chris Pierson

Author:Chris Pierson [Pierson, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786964970
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2013-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

I should have learned to teleport, Andras thought as he watched the Divine Hammer approaching from atop the abbey wall. The monks who built this place had cared little for defenses, even before the monastery fell to ruin. The road was the only way in or out. In all other directions were cliffs dropping down to the river below. The same seclusion that had made it an excellent religious sanctuary made it a death trap now.

Maybe the Dark One will see me, he thought, and summon me away from here. He saved me from the Hammer once before. The memory didn’t give him much comfort as the knights thundered up the road toward him.

“My children!” he shouted. “To me!”

The quasitas came—the last of them, not quite fifty, many wounded. It wouldn’t be enough to stop the knights, but it would slow them down, give him time to cast some magic. He pointed toward the rusty tangle that had been the monastery’s gate, trying not to notice how badly his hand shook.

“Kill them!” he shouted. “Kill them all!”

The quasitas were stupid, not brainless. They knew they would die if they fought, but Andras had given birth to them, and he had the power to command. Hissing, snarling, they swarmed out the gates.

Andras watched them go, then clambered up on a hunk of rock that stood higher than anything else on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he focused, weaving his hands and pointing down at the mass of armored figures. He couldn’t stop them all with one spell, but he could kill enough to even the odds. He concentrated on the largest of them—a giant of a man who held a beaked axe high—and began to make arcane gestures.

“Sylar cu monaviok, sho jebus loinonn!” he shouted.

A bolt of blue lightning shot from his fingers, raining sparks as it sizzled through the air. He watched with satisfaction as it shot straight at the big knight. It would kill him when it struck, then it would fork, spraying death upon the men next to him. Then it would fork again, and again, continuing until it spent itself. A vicious smile curled his lips.

Suddenly a voice, a woman’s voice, shouted spidery words of its own. He frowned, listening, then gasped as he recognized the spell. An instant later, a dome of golden energy appeared around the knights. The lightning bolt stopped as though it had hit something solid, and exploded into a million glittering sparks. The air shimered as Andras’s magic evaporated.

He saw her now, riding near the rear of the party: the blood-woman, her crimson robes standing out amongst the knights’ snowy tabards. He could feel her, too, and that feeling told him he was doomed. Her power was too great. Whatever spell he used, she would repel it.

He tried anyway, hurling fire and lightning, frost and poison. He cast enchantments to change the stones beneath their horses’ hooves to mud, fill the air with whirling blades, turn their bones to jelly. Nothing worked.

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