spells. In each instance, it stopped dead and waited for the spell to runits course. The air grew frigid and steamed about its mouth and midsection.It was as if it were digesting the magic and rushing it down entropy lane.When the steaming stopped, it advanced again and I hit it with my DementedPower Tools spell. Again, it halted, remained motionless, and steamed. Thistime I rushed forward and struck it a great blow with my blade. It rang likea bell, but nothing else happened, and I drew back as it stirred.

"It seems to eat my spells and excrete refrigeration," I said.

"This has been noted by others," Rhanda responded.

Even as we spoke, it torqued its body, moving that awful mouth to thetop, and it lunged at me. I thrust my blade down its throat as its long legsclawed at or caught hold of me. I was driven over backwards as it closed itsmouth, and I heard a shattering sound. I was left holding only a hilt. Ithad bitten off my blade. Frightened, I felt after my new power as the mouthopened again.

The gates of the spikard were opened, and I struck the creature with araw force from somewhere in Shadow. Again, the thing seemed frozen as theair about me grew chill. I tore myself away from it, bleeding from dozens ofsmall wounds. I rolled away and rose to my feet, still lashing it with thespikard, holding it cold. I tried using the blade to dismember it, but allit did was eat the attack and remain a statue of pink ice.

Reaching out through Shadow, I found myself another blade. With itstip, I traced a rectangle in the air, a bright circle at its center. Ireached into it with my will and desire. After a moment, I felt contact.

"Dad! I feel you but I can't see you!"

"Ghostwheel," I said, "I am fighting for my life, and doubtless thoseof many others. Come to me if you can."

"I am trying. But you have found your way into a strange space. I seem