Night of The Eye

at his face. When Belize pulled back his hands, his eyes were entirely black, like olives, lifeless and unseeing.

'Who dares blind me?' Belize roared, turning slowly as if he could yet see.

Guerrand was confused. Who, indeed, had cast a blindness spell on Belize?

Snarling his frustration, the archmage resigned himself to the consequences of the simplest spell he could use to restore his sight. He knew the radius of the dispelling magic would remove all of his ongoing enchantments, but he cast it quickly anyway. A bright light he could not yet see grew to burn the darkness from his eyes. In a blink, the small shaft of radiance flew away from the archmage and struck the gigantic magical palm; the hand dissipated into swirling smoke and then was gone. The light raced on, over the empty cage of tentacles, sending them slithering without a trace back into the ground.

But the magical dispel was not finished yet. The bright shaft switched directions and streaked nearby to where the statuette of Esme lay. The figure shifted, then grew instantly, until the woman herself lay upon the hillside. She remained deathly still, as if yet a figurine, men blessedly coughed and convulsed and stirred to life. Shaking her head to clear it, Esme struggled to her knees and looked about in confusion.

'Esme,' hissed Guerrand. 'Over here!'

Spotting Guerrand, the young woman, hindered by her splinted leg, pulled herself slowly to his side. She touched his whiskered cheek tenderly, a weak, relieved smile her only greeting. 'What happened to Zagarus, and how did I get away from Belize?'

'You couldn't see anything as a statue?' Esme's head shook. 'Zag saved both our lives. He swooped on Belize and yanked you from the mage's neck to distract him from killing me.' Guerrand winced as he shifted his wounded side. 'It worked pretty well, too, except Belize hit Zag with a magic missile-and me, since we're linked. I'm afraid my right arm is pretty useless.'

Esme looked fretfully from Guerrand's arm to the still sea gull. 'He's not-'

'No, just unconscious. Zag doesn't deal well with pain.'

'Belize is trying to open a gate that will let him into the Lost Citadel,' she told Guerrand without preamble. Tearing two wide strips from the hem of her tunic, she hastily wrapped Zag's right side and wing. 'I don't think we can kill a mage of his ability, but perhaps we can delay him until the convergence is past.'

Guerrand frowned. 'There seems to be another mage-'

'Digas ne vimi!'

Both apprentices looked up in fear at the sound of Belize uttering another incantation. But his spell was not for them. The archmage's red-robed arms were stretched wide in the direction of the sea. A strangled gasp reached their ears from the other side of the plinths.

Guerrand and Esme both dragged themselves to their feet in time to see Lyim Rhistadt being yanked by some invisible force from a copse of shrubs.

'How did he get here?' asked Esme.

Guerrand shook his head, gaze never leaving Lyim. 'It's a long story.'

Suspended ten feet above the ground, Belize's apprentice kicked and writhed against some monstrous, invisible grip. Despite his struggles, Lyim was lifted higher still, then floated helplessly toward Belize.

'Y-You're crushing me,' rasped Lyim. The apprentice's ribs contracted perceptibly beneath the invisible grip, making it nearly impossible for him to draw a new breath. The young mage hovered just above his master. Belize regarded his apprentice with an expression more triumphant than surprised.

'It seems I have a wealth of visitors tonight.' The archmage's eyes narrowed to malicious slits. 'You, of all people, should have known better than to strike against me.'

'I've revered you all my life!' Lyim gasped, struggling for air. 'You're the greatest, most powerful mage to ever have lived. Why risk your position as Master of the Red Order?'

'The regard of lesser humans is this-' Belize spat viciously '-compared to gaining the magical knowledge of the gods.'

With that, Belize checked the positions of the moons and hastily turned to plunge his hands into the ironbound chest. Slowly, as if lifting something of great value and fragility, he drew forth a swirling sphere of flame. The ball writhed between his fingers, twisting, flickering, uncontained by anything save Belize's will. With intense concentration the mage turned and extended his arms so that the ball of energy hovered between the stone pillars.

'What are we going to do?' whispered Esme. 'He's preparing his portal.'

Guerrand nodded, equally concerned with the bluing pallor of Lyim's complexion. If they could distract Belize, he might forget Lyim in his irritation…

'I have an idea that's certain to infuriate Belize,' Guerrand said. 'How's your shield spell?'

She grinned at the prospect. 'Good as ever.'

'Fine. It'll take me a few moments to prepare my spell. If you'll just get the dried peas from my pouch…' he said with a nod toward his useless arm. Esme slipped the peas into his hand, and Guerrand closed his eyes, struggling to recall the exact symbols of the seldom-used spell he sought.

Waiting with the words of her own spell at the ready, Esme watched Belize anxiously as the flickering globe he'd placed between the plinths flared angrily and swelled to twice its previous size. Its eerie light shimmered on the carved surfaces of the plinths.

Next, Belize drew a succession of vials and containers from the chest, tossing each into the swirling inferno while muttering arcane phrases and gesturing

in the air. The fiery globe grew steadily larger until its blue tongues licked against the gray stones. Its shape began to change, to flatten and stretch into an oval.

'Estivas nom,' Guerrand pronounced at last to Esme's relief. A wall of fog, heavy and thick, appeared out of thin air and positioned itself between the archmage and the moons. Esme hastily called forth the invisible shield.

Belize whirled on them in a flash, his face as dark as a thundercloud. 'Dispel the fog at once,' he demanded.

'Do it yourself if you're so desperate to see the moons align,' Guerrand jeered.

'I'll not waste time or energy on a spell. But I will send your friend through the unfinished portal.' The invisible grip shook Lyim like a rag doll. 'You've seen what happens then.'

'Rand, don't do it-' Lyim gasped with great effort.

Guerrand and Esme exchanged a horrified glance. She gave a slight nod, and Guerrand immediately tossed the last of his peas into the air, summoning a gust of wind that blew the fog over the strait.

Belize threw back his balding head and roared with laughter. 'Gullible rubes!' He raised his arm, and Lyim was yanked as if on a leash to the swirling ball of fire between the plinths. Belize plunged his apprentice's arm, right up to the shoulder, through the wall of whirling hues. Lyim screamed, struggling with the last of his strength to twist away, but the grip was unrelenting. Eyes bulging, he kicked and thrashed vainly against the invisible forces that held him and worked tortures on his arm.

Guerrand covered his ears, but still he heard the hideous scream, seeming to rise from Lyim's soul. The unbroken wail cut through the night, cut through Guerrand's nerves until he was searching his mind frantically for some spell that would help Lyim.

Then the torture was over. Suddenly released from the invisible grip, Lyim staggered back from the portal and collapsed unconscious from the torment he'd endured.

Both Guerrand and Esme looked at their friend's arm and gasped. The sleeve was shredded, revealing an appendage that was no longer an arm. Instead of flesh, the limb was a writhing thing covered in scales of brown, red, and gold, patterned symmetrically in rings and swirls. And at the end of the limb, where a hand should have been, was the head of a snake, its eyes inky black and malevolent. The hideous creature hissed and flicked its tongue.

Belize looked at the snake arm in relief. 'These portals frequently contain the undead remains of centuries of unsuccessful adventurers,' he explained conversationally. 'They jump like starving fleas upon the first fresh traveler they meet. Your friend generously cleared the path for me.'

Belize chuckled, a cruel, mirthless sound that lasted only a moment before he telekinetically flung aside Lyim's limp body to reach one last time into his ironbound chest. He pulled forth a thin, fragile book, opened it, and held it up to compare its drawing to the positions of the three moons above.

Following the mage's gaze, Guerrand could see that the 'eye' seemed perfectly aligned: black shadowy