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He wore his years with little grace. They lay upon him like unholy
burdens. His eyes blazed with his magic, his red robes swirled
about him as he lifted his hand.
Crimson blood circled a weakly struggling young man. Daryn,
Tanis thought, Riana's brother! The soft murmuring of the mage's
chant rose and fell in tones that were sometimes coaxing,
sometimes commanding.
Then, with jerky, heartless strength, Daryn staggered to his
feet. His hands twitched, his legs threatened to buckle, then
stiffened as his feet found their purchase upon the stone floor.
Dried rosemary leaves rustled in the mage's hand. The fire in the
brazier sighed. With a practiced flourish, he sent the dust of a
powdered sapphire, blue and sparkling as a high autumn sky,
leaping across the distance between him and the bloody circle. It
paused in mid-air, an azure halo above Daryn's head, then settled
gently, with great precision, inside the blood circle, to form an-
other border.
Imprisoned within Gadar's circles of magic, Daryn stood, his
face drawn and white. In that moment, complete understanding
rippled through him, carving at his face with the sharp tools of
terror.
And in that moment, the door that Tanis could barely see
across the wide chamber burst open with a splintering crash.
Weird light broke along the finely honed blade of Flint's axe,
leaping and dancing.
Karel's sob of fear when he saw Riana standing behind Flint
might have been the voice of Daryn, standing mute and terrified in
double circles of enchantment
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