“How many you got?” Harruq asked.

“Nine.”

“Eleven.”

“I have plenty of time.”

They prepared another charge. Before they could, a blue portal ripped open in front of them, and out stepped a wizard in yellow robes. Daggers whirled toward his throat and chest only to ricochet off, unable to penetrate the magic enchantment surrounding his skin.

“How rude,” Tarlak said, glaring at the crowd. “Those could have hurt.” Electricity crackled across his hands. “Just like you hurt my sister.”

A great bolt of lightning sundered the opposite wall, charring the luckless souls caught in its way. The thieves rushed the wizard, but twin blades halted their attack. The two fighters, teacher and student, formed a shield before Tarlak, shredding the life from any who neared. Slowly a wall of the dead built before them. Tarlak shouted the words of a spell. His hands lunged, his fingers hooked in dual circles. A small ball of flame shot between Harruq and Haern, under the legs of a thief, and then hit the ground. A great rush of expanding fire filled the room, followed by screams.

The curtains on one wall caught fire, billowing red smoke. Haern swore when he saw it, knowing that it would not be long before the entire room was at a loss for air.

“No more fire!” he shouted to the wizard.

“Sure thing! Where’s your hat?”

“They deserve to see the face of their executioner.”

Tarlak shrugged, the words of another spell on his lips. A bolt of lightning leapt from his hands, struck a nearby thief, and then bounced to the next closest target. It continued until seven thieves lay dead on the ground, smoke wafting from their mouths and noses.

Haern looked about the room. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Thren still on the far side. A great bow was in his arms.