Free Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) by Holly Lisle Page A

pointed her staff at Witte’s chest and willed the power of earth and sun to destroy him. “And I want you to die,” she whispered.
    Rich green faeriefire flames boiled from the staff’s brass tip and blasted into Witte—and through him. Energy crackled around him; the wall of rock behind the little man melted, leaving a ragged opening into another chamber and a pool of glowing lava on the chamber floor. Faia poured magic steadily into her staff, drawing from the power of the earth and the sun, and from the emeshest—with an equivalent outburst, Faia had once turned a stone village to melted slag. But Witte simply stood there, watching her and grinning.
    The wall on the far side of the chamber she’d just opened collapsed, and Faia heard the rumble of shifting stone over her head, and felt the earth shudder. Her fury withered in that instant. She could bring the mountain down on top of herself and her daughter, she realized. She could die, leaving Witte untouched. He was beyond her magic.
    She should have known.
    He chuckled. “That was a waste of effort, silly girl You haven’t the power to roast me. Not even you can kill a god.” He stepped into the wall of light—the emeshest—and danced and spun merrily through it. It didn’t affect the little god at all. He pranced around frozen Kirtha… and then right through her, and leapt back out again. “You can’t touch me,” he told her.
    He sighed and flopped onto the stone floor again. “Of course,” he added, “because I am a god, I can’t touch that.” He pointed to the emeshest. “No god can reach inside another’s aura. So I needed a mortal to wake Delmuirie.”
    She stared at him, and wondered how a mortal could kill a god. In her mind, she swore to the Lady that if it were possible, no matter what it took, she would destroy Hrogner.
    He laughed out loud and clapped his hands. “You can’t kill me, silly girl.” He’d read her mind. He bounded onto a boulder, and turned to face her. “You can’t.” He grinned at her, his eyes for once level with hers. “That’s what being immortal means. You can’t destroy me. You can’t do
anything
to me.”
    But she would, she thought. For what he’d done to her daughter, she’d find a way to make him pay. First though, she had to save Kirtha—and her friends.
    Her mother had told her,
You will have a test—a test of your courage and your will—and, too, of your love for your friends, and for all the people of Arhel.
    This was worse than a test, though. This was torture.
    She had one question for the Mocking God. “Why do you want me to wake Delmuirie?” she asked. “Since I’m sure you don’t care what happens to my friends or my daughter, and since I can’t imagine you caring about what happens to Arhel, either—what is in this for you?”
    Witte chuckled and sat down on the rock. “I want to cause trouble. It’s what I do.” He crossed one leg over the other and swung his foot like a small, wicked child. “Delmuirie is no god. He’s a man—and I want to see him grow old like a man, and die like one. His presence among the eternals displeases me.”
    “That’s evil,” Faia said.
    “It’s funny.” Hrogner arched an eyebrow and his smile curled at one corner. He pressed the palms of his hands together and leaned forward. “Do you know what is even funnier? I don’t know what will happen when you wake him. Isn’t that delicious?” He laughed again—a high, mad, giggling laugh.
    The laugh grated on Faia’s nerves, but she forced herself not to respond to it. She breathed in and out slowly, until she felt calm and centered. She had to think—had to find a way to free her daughter and her friends. “Fine, little fiend. You’ll get your wish. I’ll wake the idiot Delmuirie. Simply tell me what I must do.”
    Witte shrugged and chuckled. His foot swung back and forth. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
    “What?” Faia’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
    The little