Page 1 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

PROLOGUE: GAIN ONE, LOSE ONE

They were close. So close.

Tearloch could hear Minkin pleading with her heartless captor, stalling for time, trusting her friends could rescue her before it was too late. Apparently, her gift of mental manipulation wasn't working on the old sorcerer Iphocles, and in that maze of alleys, it was impossible to tell which direction her voice was coming from!

Tearloch tapped Hux on the shoulder and waved him off. They had to separate if they were going to find her. Their other friends were working their way in from the south of Cutthroat Quarter. But their plan to pin their quarry between them was not working.

"Just leave me,"Minkin pleaded louder."I'll tell them you're long gone. They'll give up the chase. Just go. Save yourself."

Her voice came from behind! Tearloch backtracked.

Iphocles chuckled. "I can feel ye in my brain. An impressive talent. Far too handy to leave by the side of the road, my dear. But don't worry about me. I will flee, as ye suggest, but first, I'll have to take yer head."

From the left!

Tearloch turned, but the small alcove was empty.

"No! Wait. You can have my power. I can give it to you. I can surrender it?—"

"I've gathered enough of them to know it doesn't work that way. But I give ye credit for trying?—"

Tearloch retreated, turned right, and found Huxor had homed in on the same spot. Together, they jumped through the opening and turned, swords high. Tearloch yelled with every bit of breath he had in him. Together with Huxor’s roar, they should deafen anyone in the alley.

Minkin was on her knees, her blue robes soiled, her shoulders hunched. The sorcerer’s staff of gnarled wood lay discarded beside her. His sword hovered above her neck. Another few seconds and they'd have been too late.

Behind Iphocles, Sweetie, Dower, and Bain entered the rectangular space on silent feet and encircled the old man, who sensed them only after they were in position.

The need for shouting was over. Hux took a step forward. "All we want is the woman."

Iphocles' eyes narrowed and he smiled. "Ye lie. And it's not just mybloodyou're wanting, is it, Huxor?"

Hux smiled back. Even from the side, Tearloch realized what that smile meant.

"Don't do it," he warned his friend quietly. "That power will poison your soul, as it has his. Would you really change places with that...that...creature?"

"’Course not." Hux retreated a step, but his disturbing smile remained.

“Let her go,” Sweetie demanded, “and we will deal with you mercifully.”

“It is you who will need mercy,” the old man snarled, then lifted his chin in their friend’s direction. Sweetie yelped and dropped his blade. Pain contorted his face as first one, then another pointed horn emerged from the side of his skull. His brow widened to accommodate the weight as the horns stretched and curled, each reaching a foot and a half out from his head. He was turning into a bull!

Tearloch lunged forward to place the edge of his sword at the fiend’s neck. “Change him back!”

Iphocles lowered his weapon to rest it against the skin of Minkin's neck, and Tearloch hesitated. If he killed the old man now, Sweetie was doomed to remain an abomination.

"Flee,” the villain taunted quietly. “Take yer bull-man and go or I won't be the only one to bleed.” He tilted the blade back and forth, the reflection of the sky flashed along the edge. “Sharp as can be. It’ll slice through her like water."

"Bain! Now!" Hux shouted.

Iphocles turned to face the others. Tearloch knocked the blade away from Minkin's neck, then had to duck fast to keep Hux's blade from removing his own head along with the old man's.

“No,” he shouted, but it was too late. Now, the spell couldn’t be uncast!

Minkin realized it too and ran into Sweetie’s arms. Distracted by the new weight on his head, their tall friend held her loosely while he wagged his monstrous head back and forth, as if he expected the horns to fall off.

Huxor studied the severed head where it lay, his expression triumphant. None of the deep wrinkles had eased in death. The weathered face paled to match its scars as the blood drained away, puddling beneath the full but scraggly white beard. The sunken eyes remained open as if to warn that, even in death, this malevolent old sorcerer shouldn’t be underestimated.

“You fool! What about Sweetie?” Tearloch pointed to where Bain and Dower, Hux’s brothers, were trying to calm the disfigured man.

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