Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian) Read Online Free PDF

dove forward, both physically and arcanely, to catch a portal strand. I closed my grip around one right before it slithered through.
    Idris, crumpled on his side on a cement floor. A man’s hand on his shoulder. A ring on the middle finger—dual stones, dark red and onyx, set in intricate gold filigree.
    Mzatal’s frustration and anger filled our connection, and the strand flashed and disintegrated as he sent a seething blast of power into the ritual. The sigil rings shattered, and I felt Mzatal direct the backlash toward Rhyzkahl and Jesral.
    Rhyzkahl staggered back a step but managed to deflect most of it. Jesral wasn’t so fortunate and took a direct hit that cast him back hard into the trunk of a tree. Eyes locked on Mzatal, Rhyzkahl stalked into the center of the nexus, likely to replenish potency.
    Breathing hard, Jesral shoved away from the tree. His gaze dropped to the blade in my hand, and his face hardened, then in a move like a striking viper he cast an attack at Mzatal.
    Mzatal shifted his weight and deflected the strike with an angry flick of his hand. “Send Vsuhl away,” he gritted out.
    I hesitated, tempted to argue the need for both blades, yet Mzatal’s insistence remained firm. Reluctantly, I sent the blade away, even as Mzatal hurled a return volley of jagged potency like stylized lightning. With a determined sweep of both arms, Jesral deflected all but one, staggered and spun as it struck him in the hip.
    Mzatal’s aura washed over me and tumbled like a raging river of acid toward Jesral, pressing his advantage. His attack followed, in a barrage that knocked the already off-balance Jesral back several feet. Jesral shot a quick look at Rhyzkahl, face shifting to a mixture of anger and outrage as he seemed to realize that Rhyzkahl wasn’t planning to help him in his duel with Mzatal. The Mraztur had broken the age old “lords only fight one-on-one” agreement when they sought to prevent me from recovering Vsuhl but, for whatever reason, Rhyzkahl didn’t seem willing to do so again.
    Continuing to trace and enhance Mzatal’s attacks, I glanced at Rhyzkahl. His attention remained fixed on Mzatal, eyes narrowed in what looked like calculated interest. As I watched, he shifted his scrutiny to me and began to trace an odd compact construct with both hands.
    Dread coursed through me, and I gave Mzatal a mental nudge.
Rhyzkahl’s doing something, Boss
, but to my dismay his response was sluggish, distracted. Snarling, he sent another strike toward Jesral, while I tried harder to get his attention.
Mzatal. Stop attacking Jesral for a second!
    Rhyzkahl’s mouth spread in a vulpine smile as whatever he’d formed coalesced into a golf ball-sized creation that seethed orange and red. My dread shifted to full-blown alarm.
Rakkuhr.
Mzatal swiped aside a valiant effort from Jesral and drew power for a blow that would take Jesral down. Rhyzkahl glanced to the fully occupied Mzatal, smirked, then lobbed the tightly wound ball toward me in an underhand throw.
    “Boss!” I yelled, eyes widening. Frantically, I tried to pull power from Mzatal’s strike to deflect the thing as it expanded and arced toward me like a softball from hell. My alarm finally cut through Mzatal’s haze of anger even as he loosed the attack on Jesral. He snapped his focus to me and then to the
rakkuhr
-laced sigil ball as it struck his shields. Its outer layers burned away like a meteor entering the atmosphere, the sigil emerging as a glowing red speck that arrowed toward the center of my chest.
    In a fraction of a blink of an eye, Mzatal slammed a wave of power at the speck to deflect it.
    Almost
deflect it. The thing struck my left deltoid and drove in with a wave of agony utterly at odds with its size. I choked out a cry of pain as the sigil scars on that side of my body erupted in fiery pins and needles.
    I felt Mzatal call Eilahn and Steeev to us, then he seized my head in his hands, eyes boring into mine in assessment. Breath