Excerpt. The Death Wizard Chronicles. Book Three

The Death Wizard Chronicles
Book Three
Eve of War
Melvin, Jim
ISBN 13: 978-1-897381-52-6
Paperback; perfect bound; 5.5 x 8.5


Sample Excerpt, © Rain Publishing Inc.


The Great Evil
1

In her long life, Laylah had known pain. But nothing compared to this pain.
With methodical precision, a million tiny mouths devoured her with thorny teeth. She felt as if she were being skinned alive, but it was her essence being peeled away, not her flesh.

The only thing that kept her sane was the man who held her close. Where his body touched hers, there was a semblance of relief. Through the hysteria of her agony, she could sense his strength providing just enough comfort for her to survive one more moment.

And another ... another ... another …

Laylah’s back arched. White flames sprang from every pore, flaring inside the cramped chamber. She cried out. He screamed in response. She was hurting him, and she cursed herself. In such a short time, she had grown to love him more than anyone else in the world. She wanted to give him pleasure, not pain. She tried to push him away, but her arms lacked the strength. He was strapped to her like a chain. For better or worse, they would endure this nightmare together.

In some ways, her senses were blunted. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but white. When she tried to listen, she heard nothing but dissonance. She could not feel her sweat on her skin. Or the blanket on which she lay.

In other ways, her senses were heightened. She could smell Torg’s sweet breath and feel the beating of his heart. And somehow, when her eyes were closed, she could see through the stone to where Lucius and the others lay sobbing outside the cave. She wanted to tell them that the pain belonged only to her. But she didn’t know how.

Laylah’s body went into a spasm, her legs kicking like a pair of insane scissors, her arms flailing against the stone floor with wicked thuds, her eyes opening and closing frenetically, casting beams of molten light that smote the walls and ceiling. In the midst of this chaos, the efrit slept peacefully within her abdomen, perceiving no threat.

Torg held her even tighter, attempting to corral her white rages with his blue-green might. Part of her wanted to embrace his magic, part of her expel it. But he did not ask for permission. Instead he rode her waves of agony like a leaf on the surface of a raging river. The worst of her pain went on for almost half the night. Without him, she would have perished.

Just before dawn the pain finally lessened, allowing her to regain consciousness and to realize where she lay. Now she could feel the sweat on her body and the chill of the stone. When she opened her eyes, she was relieved to see darkness; the all-consuming white had fled. Even better, the voracious mouths that had tormented her seemed to have lost their hunger and had blessedly departed. She shivered in her nakedness. In response, large arms succored her. It had not been just a dream amid nightmares. Torg was here, after all.

“The tide has turned,” she heard him whisper. “You’re strong, my love.”

She tried to respond but could manage nothing intelligible.

“Shhhhh … quiet now,” he said. “Try to sleep. You need to rebuild your strength. And when you wake, we’ll try a sip of water.”

In the silence of the cave, they lay entwined.

And for a time knew no more………..