So any use I might make of the Logrus now, were I to summon it and situate myself within its ambit, would pretty much amount to blasting away with raw power-which is very draining on the operator.
Let him come a little nearer, that’s all, and it would be cold steel and a strangling cord that he would face.
I could feel the presence advancing now, hear the soft stirring of pine needles. A few more feet, enemy. . . . Come on. That’s all I need. Come into range. . . .
He halted. I could hear a steady, soft breathing.
Then, “You must be aware of me by now, Magus,” came a low whisper, “for we all have our little tricks, and I know the source of yours.”
“Who are you?” I asked, as I clasped the haft of my blade and rolled into a crouch, facing the darkness, the point of my weapon describing a small circle.
“I am the enemy,” was the reply. “The one you thought would never come.”