He nudged the big woman's body with a toe. He half expected it to rise from death, as the skeletal serpent had.
Pakal picked up the Circled Serpent and placed it back inside the box, then pointed forked fingers
at the room's only exit. His face paled as he lowered his hand.
'Sibyl comes this way,' said the dwarf. 'Are you certain you will not come? I can turn your body to air once more.'
Arvin picked up his backpack and glanced inside. The net had indeed knotted itself into the pack, but a few quick strokes of his knife would cut it loose.
'I'm not leaving until I kill Sibyl,' Arvin replied.
He yanked his dagger from the Naneth-seed's back and got to work.
The dwarf shook his head. 'I will he gone before then. Even if you succeed, you may be trapped here.'
'No, I won't,' Arvin said. He tilted his head at the Naneth-seod's hand. 'Her ring is magical. It can teleport me out of here. Assuming, that is, that I survive.'
As he spoke, he continued working to free his net. It was tricky work; one slip and he'd sever a strand of the net itself, ruining it. He could hear the whuff whuff-whuff of wings in the corridor beyond the chamber, as well as running footsteps and the slither of scaly bodies. Sibyl and her clerics drew closer.
Pakal laid a broad hand on Arvin's shoulder. 'You are a braver man than I. Thard Harr grant you strength.' He began the prayer that would turn his body to air.
It was cut short by an angry hiss from the corridor outside. 'Naneth!' Sibyl shouted. 'You will regret betraying me.'
A heartbeat later, a wave of magical fear boiled into the room, even stronger than before. Panic filled Arvin's mind as he whirled, searching for a way out of the chamber. There was only one exit, and it led straight to Sibyl. He was trapped…
No. There was another way out. Shoving his way past Pakal, who cringed on the floor, Arvin grabbed
the Naneth-seed's hand. He sobbed in relief as he located the band of amber on one of her pudgy fingers. Yanking it free, he threw it onto the floor.
'Ossalur!' he cried.
The ring expanded.
Waves of magical fear lashed Arvin toward the circle of amber, which had grown to nearly two paces wide. Safety lay just a step or two away. Outside the chamber, he could hear Sibyl's furious hissing, could feel the rush of air from her wings as she approached.
No! he thought, fighting the compulsion to flee.
Rallying, he turned and scooped up his pack. The moment he'd been waiting for, planning for six months, was at hand. Sweat erupting on his brow from the strain, he plunged a hand into the pack. He'd almost freed the net. One good yank and it would be in his hands, ready to throw.
Then another wave of fear struck. Pakal leaped to his feet, wide-eyed. He clutched the box tight against his chest in white-knuckled fingers, trembling like a mouse about to be consumed by a serpent.
Arvin, fighting against the icy blasts of fear that threatened to sweep him off his feet like a hurricane, turned toward the doorway and saw Sibyl, her wings folded against her back, slithering through the hole. He started to yank the net from his pack…
Then Sibyl looked at him. Saw him. As a third wave of magical fear struck, the courage Arvin had found a moment before melted to slush in his veins. Screaming, his pack dragging behind, he darted for the ring. He grabbed Pakal as he ran past, yanking the dwarf with him into the circle of amber.
The scaled halls of the Temple of Varae vanished.
So did the magical fear.
Arvin cursed. Six months of planning and preparation, ruined. Despite the fact that his terror had
been magically induced, he was disgusted with himself. He was a psion, a master of mind magic. His will should have been stronger than that. He ground his teeth together then reminded himself that all was not lost. At least he'd had the presence of mind to pull the dwarf to safety and to bring his pack with him. Maybe, gods willing, he'd get a second chance to throw his net at Sibyl.
Still trembling from the after effects of the magical fear, Arvin extricated himself from Pakal and looked around. The ring-shrunk back to its normal size-had teleported them to a rooftop garden under an open, starry sky. A fountain tinkled, spraying the nearby potted plants with a cool mist. Arvin took a closer look at the plants, each fashioned into a topiary of a coiled serpent. He'd seen them before. Even as the realization struck him, he heard a gate creak open. A woman swayed into view from the staircase leading to the railing-enclosed rooftop-a woman with long red hair, and a freckling of green scales.
Zelia.
'Arvin!' she hissed. She glanced down at Naneth's ring. 'What have you done with my seed?'
CHAPTER 3
Arvin stared back at Zelia for a heartbeat- then threw up a mental tower around himself. A loud droning burst from his throat as he imagined himself in the form Tanju had taught him: one hand clenched above his head, a wall of iron around his will. With a thought, he expanded the walls of his mental tower outward to include Pakal, imagining his free hand extended to the dwarf behind him. Zelia was certain to attack their minds, but she wouldn't kill them before finding out what they were doing with Naneth's ring. Arvin's psionic tower would shield them from the worst of it.
The attack came immediately. Arvin heard the distant, tinkling-bell sound of Zelia's secondary display and felt her try to force her
awareness into his body. Her will slithered around the defense he'd thrown up like a tide of snakes trying to find cracks in a tower wall. One forced its way through and entered his right hand. His fingers spasmed open, no longer under his control, and the backpack he held fell to the floor. The tendril of will wormed its way upward inside his arm, its scales rasping against bone; Arvin shoved it down and out with a mental push.
'Pakal!' he shouted. 'Your darts!'
Instead of reaching for his blowpipe, the dwarf grunted a prayer and fluttered his hands. Pakal's body began disappearing as it turned to air. Arvin groaned, realizing Pakal was about to abandon him.
Zelia, meanwhile, had managed to find another chink in Arvin's defenses. Her mental snake slid inside his neck. It wrenched his head to the side. forcing him to look away from her. Two more tendrils of will forced their way into his legs. Zelia swayed forward, eyes triumphant.
'Kneel,' she ordered. 'Submit to me.'
Arvin's knees buckled under him. Zelia smiled. Arvin tensed, terrified that she was about to seed him.
Her attention, however, was divided. She turned toward. Pakal, a frown of concentration on her face. Pakal, however, continued his transformation. He stared at Arvin with eyes that held a hint of remorse and said something in his own language then vanished from sight. A breeze stirred the top of the nearest plant, then rippled away across the topiaries and over the wall.
Zelia cursed.
Her hold on Arvin lessened a little-enough for Arvin to manifest another power. Summoning energy into a power point at the base of his scalp, he created an illusionary image of himself prostrated at Zelia's
feet. At the same time, his real self vanished from sight. Zelia frowned at the spot where the illusionary Arvin lay, probably wondering why he had capitulated so easily.
Arvin began drawing ectoplasm from the Astral Plane, shaping it into a vaguely human-shaped blob. Sparkles of silver light burst from his forehead as he worked, giving his position away. Zelia's head whipped up-but in that same moment the construct's fist slammed into her temple, snapping her head to the side. She collapsed in a boneless heap, crashing into the side of the fountain as she fell. Mist drifted down on her splayed body and closed eyelids.
Its chill didn't revive her.
Arvin ended his manifestation, and the construct disappeared. Shaking, he rose to his feet. He couldn't
