Kyrik Fights the Demon World_Book 2_Kyrik Sword & Sorcery by Gardner Francis Fox

Author:Gardner Francis Fox [Fox, Gardner Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gardner Francis Fox Library
Published: 2017-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Lalery Kovadis stood close to him, and her arm brushed his as she whispered, "They would never leave of their own accord!”

"Demon tricks," he muttered. The silence was oppressive. It reminded the warlock-warrior of that silence which had enveloped the city last night before tiger-men appeared. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Slowly he searched the big room, but touched no warm flesh, no cloak or woolen jerkin.

He said hoarsely, “Moforgon has them—and the five gifts."

Lalery was at the doorway, her dagger in a fist, eyes wide and frightened. As he studied her, Kyrik saw a shadow touch the ground behind her. He gestured suddenly as he breathed, "One side quickly!"

He leaped like a panther to the side of that doorless opening, and waited, scarcely breathing, muscles tensed and ready.

A man approached the entrance and stared into the empty place. He was lean and hard, and his face was covered with a black beard. His hair was long and whipped about freely in the wind.

Kyrik leaped. His forearm caught the man beneath his chin and lifted it as he placed the keen edge of Bluefang against his stretched throat. Opposite, Lalery watched, wide-eyed.

“Man, remove the spell,” whispered Kyrik. “I know no spell. Let me go. Who are you?" “Be it so, then. And you die.” The edge of his sword cut into soft flesh. The man bleated, tried to fight, but Kyrik's muscles were like steel. Inside that tensed forearm the man hung, helpless as a ram with its horns caught in a thorn bush.

“Wait,” the man pleaded. “Why should I wait? I'll offer human sacrifice to Eldrak of the ten hells—and maybe he'll remove the spell for me."

The man moistened his pale lips. “I—was ordered to cast this spell. If I remove it before being told, Moforgon will punish me."

“And if you don’t, I’ll kill you. Aye, by Illis of the tinted toenails. With the death of one conjurer, the conjuration is broken. It's an old maxim in the trade of wizards and warlocks. I mean to test it.”

“No! I—I’ll do what you say.” "No tricks. I'm a warlock myself. I know the various spells. One false word and—you die."

Kyrik removed his arm and sword edge, but stood between the necromancer and his escape. The man looked around him, saw Lalery also crouched to leap. He sighed, lifted a ringed hand and began to chant.

"By the demons summoned up to aid me, by the eternal words of great Moforgon, I lift the doom spoken earlier. Annathos infralla abakori!”

Kyrik never moved the sword point that touched the magician at his back. He waited, with Lalery, as that voice died away. Then gradually, before him, he saw the bodies of Myrnis, Andrew, Theelth and Porthis appear. They were misty and insubstantial at first, but became more solid as time

went on, and Kyrik knew the spell had been removed.

He lifted Bluefang, reversed the sword, and drove the pommel against the magician's head. The lean man crumpled and lay still.

Myrnis rose and turned one way and then the other, sniffing.

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