Free Storm and Steel by Jon Sprunk Page B

the storm soaring over the desert? Or was he the man?
    He sat in a padded chair on the balcony of his room at the villa where he'd fallen asleep. The trees below swayed, their leaves thrashing in the wind. Something thrummed in the air, like a host of vibrations, invisible and inaudible, faintly palpitating across his skin. Rubbing his chest through his tunic, he started to stand up when the floor rumbled beneath his feet. Am I still dreaming?
    The floor bucked, sending him stumbling into the stone balustrade surrounding the balcony. A grinding rumble like stone being ripped apart resounded through the villa, punctuated by a staccato of distant thumps . The balcony shuddered with each impact. When it started to tear away from the villa, Horace jumped through the doorway back into his room. A piece ofbronze sculpture tumbled over from the bedside table onto the floor. Horace scrambled for the door. He heard the first detonation as he reached for the latch handle.
    The windows in his room exploded, spraying glass everywhere. Shards nicked his arms and hands as he covered his face. Through his fingers he saw a growing light outside the windows, pulsating orange and yellow. Raw heat washed across his back as he threw himself to the floor. He grabbed for his power and tried the first thing that came to mind, conjuring a cloud of cool mist around himself. The zoana stuttered inside him, present but not obeying his will. He pulled harder, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He was inside a solid bubble of water. It filled his mouth and nose, suffocating him as the inferno washed over him. He thrashed on the floor and tried to spit it out, but the liquid just kept coming. He was on the verge of passing out when he finally managed to sever his connection to the power. With a choking cough, he vomited up the last of the water.
    Horace coughed as he got on his hands and knees. The flames had retreated, leaving the room clogged with smoke. He crawled to the nearer window and peeked over the scorched sill. A stand of trees stood far back from the east side of the villa. A party of men stood on the grassy sward between the villa and the woods. Eight men in dark robes. Their gleaming masks stared in his direction, the bronze features fashioned into the likenesses of strange beasts. Three of the masked men raised their hands, fingers together like a salute. Prickles ran down Horace's spine a heartbeat before a barrage of bright lights rushed toward him.
    Terrified that he might kill himself with his own magic, Horace didn't dare reach for it as he ducked under the window. The walls rocked as hostile magic struck the side of the villa. Fire seared the outer brick facing, and ice froze the mortar solid. A windstorm battered the manor while the ground shook. Crawling back from the window under a storm of frozen hail, Horace could feel the structure of the villa shaking around him.
    A jet of flame flashed in his peripheral vision. Biting back his fear, Horace reacted as he'd learned from Ubar, using his feel of the zoana to follow the tether of power back to its source on the lawn. Before he could talk himselfout it, he seized a thread of Shinar and severed that ethereal connection with a quick slash. The fire evaporated in an instant, leaving behind a haze of smoke and soot. Horace was starting to stand up when a gale of bitter wind surged through the window and threw him backward. His arms spun as he tried to catch his balance, but the wind held him captive until it smashed him against the opposite wall. Eyes squeezed shut, he struggled to free himself, but the winds buffeted him without relent. After three tries, he found the connection to the Imuvar dominion fueling the winds and sliced it apart. Suddenly unsuspended, he fell to his knees. A blinding light shone through the window. Something was building outside the villa, over the figures on the lawn. Horace felt its power coalescing, a combination of at least two dominions. It was time to