Abruptly, his body stiffened with a sharp, jerking spasm, and the jolt broke the contact with Andreas, who cried out and fell back on the floor, releasing him. Sorak heard the alarmed voices of the men around him, but they seemed to be fading away into the distance.
“What happened?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know…”
Then everything was spinning as the room went away and Sorak found himself out in the street, striding down a dark alley, a cloaked and hooded figure walking just ahead of him. But it was not he walking through the alley. It was the other, the killer, and as the hooded figure turned into a side street and looked back briefly, Sorak recognized the templar he had seen before in his last vision.
The street they had turned into looked familiar. And an instant later, the realization struck him that it was the same street he had walked down with Andreas moments earlier. The door to the tavern they were in was just ahead. They were coming here.
Panic rose in him. He had to warn them, somehow, but he did not know how. He could not break free of the vision. It felt as if he were having a terrifying nightmare, one in which he knew he was dreaming, and he kept desperately trying to wake up, but just could not shake the dream.
He struggled to wrench free as the templar paused outside in the street, just by the door. In his shared perception with the other, Sorak saw the door in front of him, felt it as the killer kicked it in, and then saw the interior of the darkened tavern rushing past as the killer ran through it, heading toward the bar and the back room.
The tavernkeeper came rushing out, brandishing a blade, but the killer sidestepped his lunge smoothly and crushed his chest with one powerful blow.
From somewhere beyond the curtain, Sorak heard the front door of the tavern splinter, heard the alarmed reactions of the men, but it all seemed very far away. The effect of the shared consciousness increased as the killer drew closer, moving swiftly, vaulting the bar and running through the storage room, plunging through the beaded curtain…
Then Sorak saw himself through the killer’s eyes. He saw the killer sweep one of the white-robed men aside as he raised his arms to cast a spell. One powerful blow sent him reeling back against the wall with stunning impact, and then the killer seized Andreas, grabbing him by the throat…
With a desperate effort, Sorak’s mind screamed, STOP!
Kah froze. Yes, that was her name—Kah. And, yes, the killer was a she.
She had heard the shouted command, but not aloud. It seemed to explode within her mind. For a moment, she simply stood there, confused and puzzled, using Andreas as a shield so that none of the others could throw a spell at her. Then her gaze focused on the elfling sitting on the bench before her, and she saw him gazing back at her, unafraid, eyes blazing.
Sorak slowly rose to his feet, his gaze locked with the deadly mul’s. “Release him,” he said aloud.
Kah heard the command echo in her mind. Get out of my mind, she thought, a chill clutching her.
No. Release him.
This time, he had not spoken aloud, yet she had heard him clearly. More significantly, he had heard her. The realization struck her with a shock. She spun Andreas around and held him in front of her, a powerful arm clamped across the throat. For the first time in her life, someone had heard her. She had communicated.
You can hear me?
I hear you. Release him. He has done you no harm.
The other members of the Alliance cell all stood perfectly still, staring with a mixture of fear and fascination. They could not hear the exchange but knew something was happening, something powerful and momentous, and those of them who were sensitive could feel the vibrant emanations of psionic energy in the small back room.
I must kill him, Kah communicated. I must kill you all.
Why?
The master wills it. He bought me. It is what I do.
And in that instant, as Kah thought of Ankhor, Sorak saw him in her mind and knew everything. A cold rage welled in him, a fury and hatred unlike anything he had ever known. He understood then what had been born in Ryana’s death, and he embraced it.
I am the master now. Release the old man.
No…
Release him…
Kah felt her right arm tremble. Slowly, involuntarily, she loosened her hold on Andreas. She fought to clamp her arm tighter against his throat, to squeeze the life out of him, but her own arm resisted her, fought her, pulled away. She redoubled her efforts, sweat forming as the powerful muscles of her arm and shoulder stood out with the strain.
GET OUT! she screamed inwardly.
Release… him… now!
Gritting her teeth, Kah fought the inexorable pull, but she was losing the battle. Slowly, her arm came away, and Andreas drew in a hungry, gasping breath as he broke free, falling to his knees, clutching at his throat, straining to draw air into his tortured lungs.
In that moment, a bright blue bolt of thaumaturgic energy lanced across the room and exploded with a blinding glare as it struck one of the Alliance men squarely in the chest. He screamed, hurled back against the wall, and the scream was cut off as his body flew apart into chunks of viscera and incinerated flesh.
The room became a blinding latticework of energy bolts as the remaining Alliance adepts responded to the templar’s attack.
Livanna’s assault broke Sorak’s psionic link with Kah, and she charged in with a snarl, but Sorak ducked
