Free The Storm's Own Son (Book 2) by Anthony Gillis Page A

sudden motion, touched the copper rod to the bronze handle of the door.
    The flash of green light came as expected, arcing back to him with the same jolt of pain
    Then, the copper eyes, one on each door, swirled with flowing white light like mist, and turned to look at him. He felt a will fixed on him. Not like a conscious, living mind and will, in the way that the three sorcerers in Carai had spoken to him, but something else, inhuman and impersonal. It felt at once peaceful, orderly, and infinitely malevolent. He stood transfixed.
    "Enough of that!" roared Vulkas. He raised his war mattock and stepped forward, but as soon as he reached as far ahead as Talaos, he came to a stop. His eyes narrowed, then became unfocused.
    Talaos raged in inward defiance.
    These things, whatever they were, would not master him. He focused his mind, will, and intention on the storm outside, trying to draw on it, to reconnect with his power. Instead, he found something strange happen. He began to sense the storm, as if there. He sensed that it was still hurling its own fury at the city, and, as he stretched his thought, the coast all around.
    As he did so, he felt the inhuman will try to stop him, but he pushed past.
    In his mind, he pushed past, though his body remained fixed.
    More felt than seen, images began to form in his mind. He thought of wild wind and rain, the buildings it washed, people taking shelter, the city walls, and the plains beyond. He stretched his thought further, and had a fleeting image of a great army huddling for shelter against the storm, men crouching low, horses fleeing in panic and carts overturning. Against his storm. The storm he had wanted. Then the scene blurred.
    The image faded.
    He had a sense that his power to draw on this storm might not be endless. He had already done much. His wandering mind mused whether he drew on the storm, or it on him.
    Then, he forced his mind back to where he was.
    He had to do something, and now.
    Before him the eyes glowed with malevolent will, beside his friend stood trapped in their power, and beyond the door still came the screams. His own power coursed through him and crackled in his hands. He dropped Firio's device. Through force of will, he took a step. The impersonal will opposing him tried to force him back. He took another step. Then one more. He reached the door. He felt as if his right arm had healed enough to use. He stretched forth his right hand and poured raw, radiating power through and out from it.
    He touched the eye.
    The green mist vanished, the metal behind warped. He felt a sudden snap. The inhuman, empty, collective will was gone. Before him was an inert disc of engraved copper. He turned, and the disc on the other side was the same.
    Power still arcing in his hands, he grabbed the bronze handle, took the flash of pain, and wrenched it to pull the door from its hinges. Instead, it ripped loose and apart in his hand. Furious, he reached into the gap where the handle had been, pulled the door back in cracking pieces by the bronze bracing, seized it, and hurled it out of the way.
    Sitting on the floor in the cell in front of him was a slender, frail-looking woman in a ragged linen smock. Her long black hair fell in curling waves all around her. She sat with her knees folded up, and her arms wrapped around them. However, her eyes and mouth were hidden and bound with copper bands in the form of serpents, and her hands were covered by gloves made of cast bronze. At the wrists of those hands were manacles formed like those around her mouth and eyes. The manacles were attached to iron rings thick as fingers, and then massive iron chains bolted to the wall.
    Muffled by the metal serpent around her mouth, she screamed again.
    Power still surged in his hands, and the storm swept through his mind. He mastered the coursing power, and the electricity ceased to arc, drawing into his hands instead of radiating out. He stepped forward.
    Behind him, he was faintly aware of