Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (89 page)

It
was
easy,
astonishingly
easy.
This
was
the
moment that
all
his
practice,
all
his
training
back
in
Mad
Oak,
had
been
meant
for,
and
now
that
preparation
paid
off;
he
had no
trouble
at
all
in
slipping
his
blade
past
the
Wizard Lord's
arm,
past
the
man's
last
desperate
attempt
to
ward
off
his
doom,
and
punching
the
point
through
cloth
and
skin
and
flesh,
putting
his
shoulder
and
muscle
and
weight
behind
the
blow.

For
a
few
strange
seconds,
as
he
struck,
everything seemed
to
slow
down;
Breaker
was
horribly
aware
of
the feel
of
the
sword
in
his
hand,
the
resistance
the
blade
met
as it
scraped
across
a
rib,
pushed
through
muscle
much
tougher
than
he
would
have
expected
in
so
small
a
man,
and
pierced
the
Wizard
Lord's
beating
heart.
He
heard
the
tearing
of
the robe's
fabric,
the
rattle
as
the
dropped
staff
hit
the
floor,
the
sound
of
the
Leader's
chair
being
pushed
back.
He
saw
the Wizard
Lord's
mouth
and
eyes
go
wide,
saw
the
man's
eyes glaze
over,
and
dark
blood
bubble
up
in
his
mouth.
A
choked
gasp
came
from
the
Wizard
Lord's
throat,
cut
off
almost
instantly
by
the
surge
of
blood.

From
the
corner
of
his
eye
Breaker
saw
the
Leader
fall backward,
across
the
chair
he
had
been
sitting
in
a
moment before,
and
sprawl
awkwardly
to
the
floor.
He
was
no
threat, not
yet;
Breaker
could
take
the
time
to
be
sure
that
the
Wizard
Lord
was
dead.

But
that
did
not
take
long
at
all.
He
could
see
the
light
going
out
of
the
man's
eyes
as
they
rolled
back,
could
hear
his
breath
catch
and
cease,
could
feel
his
heart
spasm
into
stillness
around
the
sword's
blade.

The
Wizard
Lord
was
dead.

A
weird
feeling
of
anticlimax
struck
him;
he
had
just
killed
a
man
for
the
first
time,
and
no
ordinary
man,
but
the

Wizard
Lord
himself—and
it
had
taken
a
single
thrust, catching
the
man
by
surprise,
and
really,
physically
it
hadn't felt
very
different
than
killing
a
dog
or
a
deer.

But
at
the
same
time
he
knew
it
was
different.
The
expression
on
the
dying
wizard's
face
was
nothing
like
anything
he had
seen
on
a
mere
beast,
and
he
knew
it
would
haunt
his
dreams.

And
the
air
was
alive
with
tension,
a
tension
he
could
not
immediately
explain.

But
then
time
sped
up
again,
and
the
tension
was
released, and
as
storm
winds
whipped
at
him,
though
he
was
still
in
a closed
room,
as
voices
sang
and
screamed
in
his
mind,
as light
flickered
and
blazed
across
the
walls
and
ceiling, Breaker
realized
what
was
happening.