Chapter 69

Instantly, the candles went out, and the room was covered in darkness. Not a shadow remained. Rain began to fall the Great Throne Room, a light patter, then a heavy spat that drenched his robe and head.

The next minute the air was dry and the candles were burning brightly as though nothing had occurred.

Elymas wasn’t impressed. The rain had made cold the bald spots on his head.

‘I can do that,” he returned, “May I rise?”

“Be my guest,” she said, lifting her arms.

Elymas rose and mumbled words of his own. The room darkened and rain fell. The heavy downpour accompanied by gusts of wind. With a wave of his hand, the Earth Skull cut it off and sat down.

“Impressive,” she said. “Watch this.”

Indigo smoke rose about her again. When it cleared, the young lad he’d met in the Apothocary Shop stood before him, grinning from ear to ear.

Elymas nearly choked.

“I see you are impressed,” she said.

He mumbled something about impressed not being quite the word, but she didn’t ask more and Elymas didn’t explain.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “I cannot shape shift. The foot that marks me as Earth Skyll resists the change. However,” he arched what he hoped was a disdainful brow, “I know a witch in Endor who can do the same.”

“Tsk, tsk,” she said with a smile. “Though I do love a skeptic.”

She did not outen the lights this time but allowed him to watch as red liquid began to drip down on them both. It was blood, of course. He recognized the smell. Fleetingly, he thought of his waiting victim and was casting about for a way to end this charade when the floor became a sea of blood. In this sea swam creatures hungry for more. Elymas watched in horror as hideous creatures swam about the throne.

Then, he felt the blood on his skin. His flesh was splitting and blood was dripping down. The smell was fresh; he could smell it himself. A spot directly before the throne churned with frenzy and up surged two finned creatures. They had fangs like lions and were fighting one another to the kill.

They were fighting over him.

All material copyright by Joan Spilman