Read Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) for Free Online Page B

half his size. And from the looks of it, she had been sleeping for many millennia, the rise and fall of her ribcage barely perceptible.
    Throughout his life, Invictus had been prone to temper tantrums. They had begun when he was a toddler on the day he nearly drowned. As he grew older, he’d gained better control, but occasional bouts of anger still overcame him. This was one of those times. He was incensed that he had discovered this female instead of Bhayatupa, causing his body to glow like a miniature sun. The interior of the cavern began to superheat, melting the mounds of gold and silver.
    The dragon sensed the glowing menace from the depths of her sleep and attempted to rouse herself. But awakening from dragon sleep is a slow process, even in the midst of imminent peril. Her scales, though impervious to almost any other form of magic, succumbed to Invictus’ power—and liquefied, along with the treasure. Then her tender flesh caught fire, and she blew apart.
    Invictus’ rage was all-consuming. Nothing could stand against such power: animal, plant, or even stone. The rooftop of the mountain erupted, casting wagon-sized chunks of debris into the sky. Afterward, a heavy wind swept the dust toward Gamana.
    Despite the tumult, Invictus was unscathed.
    When Iriz dared to return, she found Invictus standing barefoot on top of a smoldering boulder, his robes clean and unwrinkled. He held something between the palms of his hands, purposely preventing the dracool from seeing it.
    Then he mounted Iriz back and ordered her to return to Avici . . . although first, there was a detour.

3
     
    KUSALA, CHIEFTAIN of the Asēkhas, wasn’t sure why, but he felt relief rather than alarm when Yama-Utu appeared on the upper balcony of Nissaya’s keep and took King Henepola in his burly arms. The snow giant was mentally disturbed—perhaps beyond recovery—but there was a part of the creature that “grew on you,” as Kusala’s Vasi master liked to say. Without Torg around, Utu was Henepola’s only hope to be cured of the dreaded spells the sorcerer Invictus had cast upon the king.
    Utu remained standing and held the unconscious king like a father cradling an infant son. To Kusala’s surprise, Henepola’s head and neck became enveloped in a swirling green fire that soon engulfed his entire body. Madiraa, daughter of Henepola, began to sob, but whether from sadness or wonder, Kusala could not surmise. Indajaala also appeared amazed, as if in the presence of a being with magic vastly superior to his own.
    For what seemed like a very long time, the king did not move. Then without warning, he arched his back and let out a deafening scream, startling even Kusala. Soon afterward, Henepola’s body went into a series of spasms, making it difficult even for Utu, who was several times larger and many times stronger, to retain his grip. For a moment, Kusala feared that the king would wriggle free and tumble off the balcony to his death. But the snow giant did not relent. Finally Henepola’s body relaxed and lay still again. As if in response, the green glow faded. Now the king appeared to be sleeping within the giant’s embrace.
    Utu bent over and gently passed Henepola to Kusala.
    “I am overly large to squeeze through the portal,” he said in a soft voice. “Return the king to his bed and watch over him until he awakens. If he asks for water or food, give it to him, but in small portions.”
    “Will he live?” Madiraa said, tears still streaking her ebony cheeks.
    “His body is healed, but I cannot speak for his mind,” Utu said with what sounded like compassion. “My abilities are not what they once were.”
    “They are greater than ours, regardless,” Kusala said.
    Then Kusala left the balcony and laid the sleeping king on the soft mattress within his chamber. Madiraa knelt beside the bed and took her father’s hand. For the sake of privacy, Kusala went to the doorway and peered into the hall. Two powerful Asēkhas,