The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) Read Free Page B

moment Seagryn became a tugolith.
    Before turning to race across the flagstones at the marauders pouring in behind him, Seagryn took the time to watch Elaryl bounce up to her feet. As he’d known they would, her shocked eyes immediately sought him out — and that firm jaw gaped open in horror. She was quick. It took only a moment for her to recognize who — and what — he was and to understand what had befallen. Then it came: revulsion, disgust, and repugnance. Seagryn had been right. There was at least one thing a daughter of old Talarath could not forgive — magic.
    His mind didn’t change. He remained Seagryn, up until this moment a prominent cleric of Lamath, henceforth a hated outcast. In this land where the use of magic had long been regarded as the most heinous of sins, Seagryn had revealed himself to be a wizard. His dreams had shattered with those stained-glass doors behind him. He was lost — set adrift by that very Power in whom he had trusted.
    He now wore the body of a two-ton beast with an armor-plated hide and a single enormous horn. And one thing was certain — if these Marwandian raiders had just ruined his life, he certainly had the wherewithal to ruin theirs in vengeance. Bellowing in rage, Seagryn whirled and charged.
    One moment, Marwandians were pouring in the doorway. The next, they were pouring back out of it, screaming just as lustily as the guests. Many never made it out of the hall, being squashed flat instead upon the flagstones. Those who did get out of the palace fared no better; with room to swing his horn, Seagryn was now spitting Maris upon it. Most of these he slung aside, throwing the bodies forty feet at a heave. But two corpses did not slip readily off. He dipped his head between his wrinkled forelegs and flung these skyward. Then — to his own horror — he opened his vast maw and swallowed them, much as a boy might eat peanuts by tossing them first into the air. He paused then and looked around. That’s when he noticed that his great bulk had torn off the whole front wall of the mansion and that the roof was sagging dangerously close to collapse. He thundered back to it and wedged his body under the weakened structure. “Out!” he heard his tugolith voice rumble. It sounded nothing like his own. On the other hand, it did sound far more powerful ... “Everyone leave this house!” he roared.
    They did, apparently, but no one came past Seagryn. There were other exits, and these were evidently preferable to stepping anywhere near this Mari-eating monster.
    Once he felt certain all were safe, Seagryn began to relax. As suddenly as he’d turned tugolith, he again became a human. He heard the rumble above him and sprinted toward the open air. The masonry collapsed behind him, and the impact threw him forward onto his belly. Dust rained down around him, and Seagryn covered the back of his head. He’d not noticed the noise — there’d been so much of that around him for the past few hours that he’d grown accustomed to it. He did notice the awful silence that followed that thunderous collapse. He lay facedown in the grass, unmoving, marveling at how quickly a palace — or a life — could crumble.
    Eventually he had to get up. He coughed as he struggled to his knees, for dust still clogged the air. He shook his robes, then glanced around for the people. They had to be nearby, and he couldn’t resist making some attempt to justify himself. After all, hadn’t he routed the Marwandian invaders? He scanned the horizon until he spotted the crowd, clustered under a large tree near the road. He started for it.
    A large portion of the throng departed as soon as he made a move toward them. Ranoth didn’t, however, nor did Talarath. Elaryl, too, waited for him, although he’d never seen such an odd expression on her face. He knew what it meant — though he longed to believe otherwise. Ranoth waited until he got within thirty feet, then shouted:
    “Stop right there, magic