Free Night of Madness by Lawrence Watt-Evans Page B

frame.
    â€œThe rest of you keep the other one busy,” Rudhira ordered as she glided forward, toward her downed opponent.
    The older man looked alarmed and started to turn away.
    â€œStop him!” Hanner ordered. “All of you but Rudhira—knock him down!”
    It was as if a gigantic hand had swatted him from the sky; the older man smashed into the ground flat on his face and lay stunned.
    Hanner was somewhat stunned as well, though for only an instant. He had not realized how effectively his warlocks could work together.
    â€œJust hold him,” Hanner said. “Don’t hurt him.” Then he turned to Rudhira.
    She loomed over the young man, her red dress catching the firelight vividly, almost seeming to glow—in fact, Hanner thought it might be glowing. Given how little was known about this new magic, this so-called warlockry, that would hardly be surprising.
    Rudhira hovered about five feet up, arms spread, glaring down at the young man struggling to rise—not to sit up, but to lift himself off the ground. He fluttered slightly, like a fallen leaf stirred by the wind, but could not levitate himself more than an inch or two against Rudhira’s resistance.
    At last he let himself fall back. “You killed more than three, then?” he asked.
    Hanner gasped—but Rudhira snapped, “I didn’t kill anyone!”
    â€œBut then how can you be so strong? ”
    Rudhira frowned more deeply. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.
    â€œIsn’t that how it works?” the man asked. “I got stronger each time I fought and defeated another one of us … a warlock, you said?”
    â€œThat’s what the witches called us,” Rudhira said. “It’s as good a name as any.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t kill other warlocks?”
    â€œYou’re a fool,” Rudhira said. “I didn’t kill anyone. We’re all different—some stronger than others. I was just lucky.”
    â€œBut I got stronger, ” the man protested. “I know I did! I felt more powerful after each fight!”
    Rudhira stared down at him for a moment.
    â€œYes, I’m sure you did,” she said, disgust plain in her voice. “Have you ever heard of practice? I don’t know what warlockry is, but I know it gets easier with practice—the more I use, the more I can feel it waiting to be used. You were stronger after each of your stupid fights because of that, you idiot, not because you were stealing your enemies’ power!”
    â€œIs that really how it works?” Hanner asked, but neither Rudhira nor her opponent heard him.
    If it was so, then any hope he might have had that these warlocks would all use up their power and return to normal was gone.
    He turned to the older man and stepped forward, picking his way through the wreckage. “Hold him down,” he called to Yorn and the others as he approached.
    Hanner’s route took him past one of the bodies, an old woman, and from the glassy staring eyes and bloodless complexion he was fairly certain she was dead. He didn’t look; instead he focused on the older warlock.
    The man was recovering from his fall—enough to turn his head and look up at Hanner.
    â€œMy lord,” he said, recognizing Hanner’s attire.
    â€œLet me go,” Rudhira’s foe said. “I’ll go away if you let me up!”
    â€œJust keep him there for now,” Hanner called back over his shoulder. Then he returned his attention to the older man.
    â€œThat one says he killed three people,” Hanner said, indicating the other downed warlock with a jerk of his head. “How many did you kill?”
    â€œI didn’t try to kill anyone,” the older warlock said.
    â€œJust let me go!” the younger warlock said. “If you’re right that it’s just practice, then there’s no reason to hurt me!”
    â€œShut up!” Hanner bellowed