Dragonmage (Warhammer Fantasy) by Chris Wraight

Author:Chris Wraight [Wraight, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Another ship went down, smashed apart and dragged to the bottom of the sea. A swarm of serpents rolled and pounced in its wake, sweeping up the struggling mariners within their serrated jaws before diving down into the icy depths.

Huge waves crashed against the sides of the Tiranien, threatening to dash it apart before the creatures could complete their deadly assault. Noreth steered the vessel with impeccable skill, weaving at full tilt through the cracked and listing hulls of other ships. He had already evaded the attacks of half a dozen sea snakes, judging their angles of attack to perfection and making use of every last breath of wind in his ragged sails.

Time was running out though, even for him. The flotilla was being torn apart. Ahead of them, the ocean boiled with fury. There was no escape.

Anlia smiled, and breathed in the raw energy all around her. Her pulse was fast and heavy, and her palms ached from effort of withholding the potency within. She felt intoxicated by the mix of aethyric currents whirling around her.

She knew, as none of the rest of the crew could know, that they had reached their destination. The onrush of the serpents had failed to prevent them. Now the fulcrum was within range and her strength was magnified a thousandfold.

‘The storm has broken,’ she whispered, feeling the awesome energy uncurl within her. This was what she had come for. This was what Anaphelox had promised her and what all the years of patient, secret labour had been in aid of.

Ignoring the lurching of the deck, ignoring the screams of the wounded and dying, Anlia let her arms rise and began to murmur the words of command.

They came easily to her, just as they always had done. She’d enjoyed an instinctive control over the Winds since childhood. A long time ago, she had even been proud of that fact.

It was pride that taken her to the Tower so young, to refine and augment her innate ability. But the loremasters hadn’t refined it. They had attempted to suppress it, to restrict it to age-old patterns that crushed her spirit. At first, she’d tried to respect them. She’d worked hard at the rites, sincerely believing she could learn to use them.

But she couldn’t. Her gift was too raw, too resistant to control. So the accidents happened, the ones that had killed Pelean and Erwen and the others. Her too, nearly. And after that there were the trials, the questions, the accusations and the death threats from vengeful families. At that point, she’d believed that her life was over.

But then Valaris had taken her into his protection, seeing the potential in her that others had missed. And after that, unknown to any but her, Anaphelox entered her life and showed her another way to master the huge potential within her.

Ah, blessed Anaphelox. He’d unlocked the full ambit of her reach. She’d learned so much from him in Loedh Anlyn, and now this moment was the reward.

She closed her eyes, remembering what he’d taught her.

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