Madwand (Illustrated) Read Free

you may be heading—not to mention the possibility of your setting off something which may simply destroy you on the spot. I think you ought to get out, get away from the problem for a time. You’d said you wanted to see more of this world. Do it now. Come with me—tomorrow. Who knows? You may even come across some of the information you seek in your travels.”
    “I don’t know . . . ” Pol began. “I do want to go, but—tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “Where would we be heading?”
    “Over to the coast, I was thinking, and then north along it. You can pick up a lot of news in port cities—”
    Pol raised his hand and cocked his head. Mouseglove nodded and rose to his feet.
    “Your warning system still working?” Mouseglove whispered.
    Pol nodded and turned toward the door.
    “Then it can’t be any—”
    The sound came again, and with it the form of a light-haired man appeared in the doorway, smiling.
    “Good evening, Pol Detson,” he stated, raising his left hand and jerking it through a series of quick movements, “and good-bye.”
    Pol fell to his knees, his face suddenly bright red. Mouseglove rounded the desk. Picking up one of the statuettes and raising it like a club, he moved toward the brown-cloaked stranger.
    The man made a sudden movement with his right hand and the thief was halted, spun and slammed back against the wall to his left. The figurine fell from his grip as he slumped to the floor.
    As this occurred, Pol raised his hands beside his cheeks and then gestured outward. His face began returning to its normal color as he climbed to his feet.
    “I might ask, ‘Why?’ ” he said, his own hands moving now, rotating in opposite directions.
    The stranger continued to smile and made a sweeping movement with one hand, as if brushing away an insect.
    “And I might answer you,” said the other, “but it would take some coercion.”
    “Very well,” said Pol. “I’m willing.”
    He felt his dragonmark throb and the air was alive with strands. Reaching out, he seized a fistful, shook them and snapped them like a lash toward the other’s face.
    The man reached out and caught them as they arrived. A numbing shock traveled up Pol’s arm and it fell limply to his side. The density of the strands between them increased to a level he had never before witnessed, partly obscuring his view of his opponent.
    Pol made a large sweeping motion with his left hand, gathering in a ball of them. Immediately, he willed it to fire and cast the blazing orb toward the other.
    The man deflected it with the back of his right hand and then flung both arms upward and outward.
    The light in the room began to throb. The air became so filled with the lines of power that they seemed to merge, becoming huge, swimming, varicolored patterns obscuring much of the prospect, including the stranger.
    As the pulse in his dragonmark overcame the numbness in his right arm, Pol sent his will through it, seeking a clearer image of his adversary. Immediately, the form of the other man began to glow, as the rainbow-work wove itself to closure. The room disappeared, and Pol became aware that his form, too, had become luminiscent.
    The two of them faced one another across a private universe built entirely of moving colors.
    Pol saw the man raise his hands, cupping them before him. Immediately, a green serpent raised its head from within them and slithered forth, moving in Pol’s direction.
    Pol could feel a raw creation force moving all about him. He reached out and up, beginning a rapid series of shaping movements. A huge, gray bird came into being between his hands. He laid his will upon it and released it. It flashed forward and dove upon the snake, catching at it with its talons, striking with its beak. The serpent twisted its body and struck at the bird, missing.
    Looking past this contest, Pol saw that the man was now juggling a number of balls of colored light. Even as the bird rose, bearing the struggling snake in its