‘I have already set that in motion, Zani,’ said the officer. ‘But arrogance compels me to try to solve this mystery myself.’
As he finished speaking he rolled the two leaves and placed them in his mouth.
Bright colours flashed before his eyes, and a sharp pain lanced from his neck, down his arms and into his fingers. Calming himself Dagorian began to recite in his mind the Mantra of Dardalion, the simplest of the Three Levels. He felt as if he were floating inside his own body, twisting and turning. But there was no release, and he did not soar free as he had hoped. Slowly he opened his eyes. Zani’s blue tunic was shining now with ethereal lights and dancing colours. A bright aura flickered around the man. Dagorian realized that it was not the tunic which was shining, but the man himself. Over his heart there was violet light, tinged with red, which deepened into maroon over his belly. This then was the aura mystics spoke of. How beautiful it was. He looked at Zani’s round face. Honesty, loyalty and courage shone there, and he had a vision of the Ventrian sitting in a small room, three children playing at his feet. A young woman was close by, plump and raven haired. She was smiling.
Transferring his gaze he glanced at the walls. Ward
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spells had been placed over the windows and the doors, and these he could see now, glowing faintly red. Turning in the chair he looked out of the east window at the shadowed garden. He blinked. A face was staring in, a ghost white face, with large dark, protruding eyes and a lipless mouth. The skin was scaled like a fish, the teeth sharp as needles. Other faces clustered around it, and a long skinny arm pushed into the room. The ward spell flared and the arm was hastily withdrawn.
‘There are demons at the window,’ he said, huskily, his words echoing inside his head.
‘I see no demons,’ said Zani, his voice trembling.
‘Yet they are there.’
‘It is getting cold in here,’ said Zani. ‘Can you feel it?’
Dagorian did not answer. Rising from the desk he walked to the inner door and looked out into the library and the stairs beyond. White forms were floating close to the ceiling, others were huddled together away from the sunlight lancing through the western windows.
Fear touched the officer. There were scores of them.
They flew at him, their talons lashing out. The pain was great and he stumbled back. ‘What is it?’ shouted Zani.
In panic Dagorian ran for the front door. The demons were covering him now, tearing at him. He screamed aloud, blundered into the door, then scrabbled for the handle. It was locked. He fell to his knees, the pain indescribable. Zani grabbed his arm, hauling him to the western window. Bright light bathed him, and the demons withdrew. Zani helped him climb out into the garden. Dagorian stumbled out to the grass, then fell and rolled to his back under the shadows of the trees.
White, translucent forms dropped from the branches above, talons and teeth ripping at his face. Wildly he
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thrashed his arms at them, but his fingers passed through them.
A shining sword of fire swept out. The demons fell back. A voice whispered to him. ‘The Prayer of Light! Recite it you fool, or you will die here.’
Pain and terror were blocking Dagorian’s memory. The voice spoke again. ‘Say it with me: Oh Lord of Light, Source of All Life, be with me now in this hour of peril and darkness . . . Say it aloud!’
Dagorian began to recite the prayer. The demons withdrew, but hovered close by, their dark malevolent eyes glaring at him.
Rising to his knees Dagorian watched them. Slowly the power of the lorassium began to fade, and with it his spirit sight. The demons became more and more translucent, until, at last, they appeared no more than shapeless wisps of wood smoke. Then they were gone.
Safe now he stared down at his arms and hands, amazed that there was no blood. The talons had ripped into him so many times. He slumped back exhausted. ‘What happened here?’ whispered Zani. ‘What were you struggling against?’