Free The Well of Eternity by Richard A. Knaak Page A

knees, he shouted, “Not there! Away!”
    But the cacophony of sounds drowned out his warning. The fearsome anomaly moved forward…and Brox watched with horror as Gaskal was caught on its very edge.
    A thousand screams escaped the stricken orc as Gaskal both aged and grew younger simultaneously. Gaskal’s eyes bulged and his body rippled like liquid. He stretched and contracted…
    And with a last ungodly cry, the younger orc shriveled within himself, contracting more and more…until he completely vanished.
    “By the Horde…” Brox gasped, standing. He stared at the spot where Gaskal had stood, still somehow hoping that his companion would miraculously reappear unharmed.
    Then it finally sank in that he was seconds from being engulfed by the same monstrosity.
    Brox turned, instinctively seized his ax, and ran. He felt no shame in it. No orc could fight this. To die as Gaskal had died would be a futile gesture.
    But as fast as the orc ran, the fiery vision moved faster. Nearly deafened by the countless sounds and voices, Brox gritted his teeth. He knew he could not outpace it, not now, but he continued to try…
    He managed only two steps more before it swallowed him whole.
    * * *
    Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in Krasus’s body screamed. It was the only reason the dragon mage finally stirred from the black abyss of unconsciousness.
    What had happened? He still did not quite know. One minute, he had been trying to reach Rhonin—and then somehow despite not being near it he, too, had been swallowed by the anomaly. His mental link to the human wizard had literally dragged Krasus along.
    Images flashed through his befuddled mind again. Landscapes, creatures, artifacts. Krasus had witnessed time in its ultimate aspect, all at once.
    Aspect? That word summoned another dread vision, one he had thankfully forgotten until now. In the midst of the swirling chaos of time, Krasus had glimpsed a sight that left his heart and hope shattered.
    There, in the center of the fury, he had seen Nozdormu, the great Aspect of Time… trapped like a fly in a web.
    Nozdormu had been there in all his terrible glory, a vast dragon not of flesh, but of the golden sands of eternity. His glittering, gemlike eyes, eyes the color of the sun, had been open wide, but had not in turn seen the insignificant figure of Krasus. The great dragon had been in the throes of both battle and agony, ensnared yet also fighting to hold everything together—absolutely everything.
    Nozdormu was both victim and savior. Trapped in all time, he also held it from falling apart. If not for the Aspect, the fabric of reality would have collapsed there and then. The world Krasus knew would have disappeared forever. It would never have even existed.
    A new surge of pain tore through Krasus. He cried out in the ancient tongue of the dragons, momentarily losing his accustomed control. Yet, with the pain came the realization that he still lived. That knowledge caused him to fight, to force himself back to full consciousness…
    He opened his eyes.
    Trees greeted his gaze. Towering, lush trees with green canopies that nearly blotted out the sky. A forest in the bloom of life. Birds sang while other creatures rustled and scurried through the underbrush. Vaguely Krasus registered the setting sun and soft, drifting clouds.
    So peaceful a landscape, the dragon mage almost wondered if he had after all died and gone to the beyond. Then, a not so heavenly sound, a muttered curse, caught his attention. Krasus looked to his left.
    Rhonin rubbed the back of his head as he tried to force himself up slightly. The fiery-haired human had landed face-down only a few yards from his former mentor. The wizard spat out bits of dirt and grass, then blinked. By pure accident, he looked in Krasus’s direction first.
    “What—?” was all he managed.
    Krasus tried to speak but all that came from his own mouth at first was a sick croak. He swallowed, then tried again.
    “I…do not know.