a small square ring of shelter on the ground. In the middle, he piled smaller branches, twigs, and dried grasses and struck his flint hopefully. To his surprise, the spark caught and held. In a few moments he had a small fire that somehow defied the wind,
Alodar ate slowly. When the sky turned black, he spread his cloak and curled around the fire. A gibbous moon rose over the crestline in the east and cast long, cold shadows on his simple camp. For several hours, he shivered with the cold and his anticipation of what the morning would bring. He knew he needed the sleep but it would not come.
Restlessly he sat up on one elbow and stared at the last flickers of his fire. Only a few wisps of flame lapped up from the glowing embers. He watched one of the flamelets suddenly die with a final puff of smoke. The kindling which had fed it slowly turned from a brilliant yellow to a dull red. Idly he turned to another spark and saw it dance along a log, lighting first one end and then another. A second glow appeared by the first; they skittered to and fro in unison.
Alodar sat up and squinted at the campfire as a third dancing ball joined the others. Cautiously, he reached for his scabbard. As he touched it, a tiny laugh cut through the silence of the night.
Alodar sprang to his feet and danced backwards, drawing his sword. The three dots jumped into the air; two flew high and the third arched over, diving for his head. He swung and missed. Peals of shrill laughter rang through the air.
He thought to knock apart the pile of wood. Before he could act, it suddenly blossomed in yellow flame. Open-mouthed, he watched as the few charred sticks sent tendrils of gold into the sky, far higher and more intense than the fire he had set at dusk. The heat burned painfully at his face. Throwing his forearm up, he retreated towards the spire.
The three sprites converged over the fire, hovered for an instant, and then dropped what looked to Alodar like the branches from one of the scrubby plants which grew nearby. The foliage fell and instantly disappeared from sight, totally consumed. The yellow turned deep emerald and then starlight blue. The heat pushed outward like Duncan's expanding sphere, and Alodar took a step irresistibly backwards.
The flickering flames took on structure. From a rounded outline grew two small, earlike flaps, long-lobed and filled with coarse hair. Over a low, slanting brow, deep-sunk eyes darted back and forth behind pockmarked lids. A high and crooked nose sat above a long, thin mouth that turned down in a malevolent sneer. The head rose with the flame; as it did, a body filled in underneath, hunchbacked and spindly, naked and tufted with hair on a scaly skin that flaked off into the fire.
'By the laws, a djinn,' Alodar cried aloud. He looked up to see the imps assemble and drop more foliage into the blaze. The demon, already formed, stepped from the fire and another head began to form in his place.
The fire had to be quenched quickly, before more could pass through the gate! Wincing from the heat, Alodar lunged forward, stabbing at the demon that stood in his way.
The djinn's eyes flared open at Alodar's advance. A deep rumble spilled out from his lips. He waved his taloned hand, sideways, and a sudden blast of air caught Alodar in the chest. Unlike the wind of evening which had gusted and pushed, the blow pounded like a hammer. Alodar gasped for breath as his lungs emptied from the shock. He staggered forward one step. A second blow hit, spinning him backwards and knocking him to the ground. As he fell, the flame behind the djinn danced skywards, coalescing into a second demon.
Alodar rose to one knee. The djinn formed a pulse of air that caught him on the chin and made him reach for the ground for balance. Alodar looked up into the eyes of the figure towering over him. Its penetrating stare reminded him too much of the eye that Kelric had awakened in the sorcerer's sphere. He felt a trickle of fear race down his spine. Instinctively, he grabbed the pouch at his side and felt the smoothness of the orb.
The demon's thick brows shot upwards into his wrinkled forehead as he saw the motion. He walked forward and extended his hand. Alodar drew his sword, but a furnace blast skittered it away. Still clutching the sphere in his left hand, he reached for his dagger with the other. The demon opened his mouth to speak and Alodar wrinkled his nose at the sudden foul stench of decay.
'An item of some interest, I surmise,' the djinn said with the hint of some unplaceable accent. 'It is well that I have chosen here and now to walk again among you mortals.'
Alodar held his breath and said nothing as he watched the djinn approach. With lazy contempt, the demon held out a calloused palm and beckon with his knobby fingers. 'The pouch, if you will,' he said. 'You fear already what my power can do to you. Do not chance my wrath in addition.'
Alodar stared back at the distorted face. The blazing eyes bored into him, but he suppressed the impulse to flinch. He felt the prickly presence in his head, this time radiating a numbing terror rather than annoyance or pleasure. 'The pouch,' the demon repeated. 'It is so much easier if you do not resist.'
Alodar hesitated, then nodded and offered the bag temptingly. Then, as the piercing eyes flicked down to watch the transfer, he thrust out with the dagger and slashed at the demon's outstretched palm.
Thick greenish ichor oozed from the slit, and the demon leapt quickly backward with an unearthly howl of pain. 'You dare to trifle so with one of my kind,' he raged as he pressed his good hand about the wrist and attempted to staunch the flow. 'Thus do I deal with such puny beings as you.' He gestured with his injured hand and another blast of air slammed into Alodar's kneeling form.
The blow sent Alodar sprawling backwards and he tried to flatten out for the one to follow. But the current of wind curled under him and lifted him from the ground. In a frantic swirl of arms and legs, he tried to regain his balance, but the gust propelled him higher.
'I can smash you against the rock,' the djinn yelled above the howl of the wind. 'You will be no more than shattered bone and jellied flesh. Submit your will to mine. Even your wildest fears are but a small hint of what I can do.'
The gust abruptly stopped and Alodar crashed to the ground. Groggily he climbed to his feet, trying to grasp what he must do. He was no match physically for the djinn. He could not stand his ground as he had done with the others. If he resisted, he would be bludgeoned into submission.
The last flurries of the blast fluttered around his legs, dying away almost to the stillness he had felt against the tower.
He stopped before he was fully erect and tried to remember the feeling next to the rock wall. The breeze was not merely less, he pondered. The air was still, perfectly still, as if controlled through the workings of magic. He sucked in his breath with sudden hope. And if it were magic, then even the demon blasts might be turned aside.
Alodar pushed aside speculation on the djinn's reaction if he were wrong and quickly whirled towards the tower. The wind increased and the dust danced about his feet, but with one quick lunge he pounded against the cold stone. He saw the demon's face contort with rage, and the campground exploded in a fury. Sword, the pack, logs, leaves, and branches swirled into a cyclone of dust and then hurled in Alodar's direction with a shriek of groaning air.
Alodar flung his arms in front of his face and hunched in anticipation. He heard a sharp crack; then what sounded like a giant bell reverberated in the night. He put down his hands and saw a pile of debris massed a few inches from his feet and the glow of the fire still dimly visible in a cloud of swirling dirt and dust. The djinn stepped forward, eyes blazing hate and talons extended. He ran his claws down the invisible barrier between them. Alodar winced from the grating screech.
'You cannot stay there forever,' the djinn growled. 'The hunger and thirst will only add to your fear. When you are ready to submit on bended knee, you will plead for my mercy and hope for a gentle touch.'
Before Alodar could reply, the demon turned his back and walked through the settling dust to the fire, now quiescently flickering low to the ground. Two other demons, colored and featured like the first, stood clear of the blaze, awaiting his return. They exchanged deep and guttural sounds for an instant, then stopped. Each turned his back on the other and radiated outwards from the fire, stopping and surveying the ground. Alodar watched with his back and arms pressed firmly against the spire, not daring to venture from the safety of the shield.
After several minutes, the first returned and tossed a load of pebbles and small stones into the blaze. Just as before, when fed by the sprites, the flames roared upward, this time a deep purple that blended into the blackness of the sky. The second demon reappeared, holding two head-sized blocks, and tossed them after the small rocks. The third waddled back soon after, hands cupped around a boulder easily as big around as the demon was tall. With a grunt, he added it to the blaze and stepped back to watch the flames dart out from under it.
From his vantage point, Alodar saw another shape begin to form in the fire, another head, many times human
