Realizing his dagger would do little against such a fearsome monster, Arvin made it vanish back into his glove. He glanced at the hook-nosed guard, hoping the fellow might also have a crossbow, but the fellow had lost his weapons during the swim to the island.
Karrell took a step toward the water’s edge; it looked as though she were about to dive back into the river. “Don’t,” Arvin urged, catching her hand. “Wait.”
“For what?” she said fiercely. “Someone else to die?”
Despite her angry rebuke, Karrell halted. She began chanting what sounded like a spell.
The naga, meanwhile, gave a loud hiss and turned its head back and forth, as if trying to decide who its next victim would be.
Arvin had to do something—and quickly, before the naga struck again.
Sending his awareness inward, he manifested one of the attack forms Tanju had taught him—the mind blast. A psion targeted by this attack would crumple emotionally as his self-esteem and confidence were flayed away by the blast of psionic energy. A creature incapable of psionics, like the naga, would only be briefly stunned. But perhaps it would be enough.
Arvin imagined the form as Tanju had taught it to him—a man standing braced and ready, his hands held out in front of him with forefingers and thumbs touching to form a circle. When the visualization was clear, Arvin imagined the man—himself—drawing the circle toward his forehead. As power coiled tightly behind his third eye, he threw it outward at the naga. Silver sparks spiraled out from this third eye as the energies contained in the blast swept toward the creature. As they struck, the naga swayed. Its eyes rolled back in its head.
“Swim for the island!” Arvin shouted at the couple. “It’s stunned—now’s your chance!”
The husband tried to get into the water, but his wife clung to him. “Lie still!” she cried. “Lie still, and it won’t see us!” As they struggled together, the naga blinked and shook its head. It glared down at them, its tongue flickering in and out of its mouth as its jaws parted in anticipation.
Arvin swore. The naga had recovered from the mind blast with surprising speed. Arvin wished, belatedly, that he’d chosen a different power to manifest. If he’d linked the naga’s fate with that of the merchant—or the guard—their deaths would have weakened the naga, perhaps even killed it. He could still manifest a fate link—but not until he knew for certain that another death was both imminent and unavoidable.
Arvin’s eye was caught by a flash of white above his head; craning his neck, he saw that it was the elf, walking through the air as if on solid ground. He held his hands out in front of him, as if half expecting to bump into something. “What happened?” he shouted. “Where is everyone?”
The hook-nosed guard stood. “Over here!” he shouted, waving his arms.
The elf turned toward the sound of his voice and started to descend. Each step carried him forward several paces at a time. But lie wasn’t going to reach them in time. Not before someone else died.
Karrell finished her spell. She shouted at the naga it in a language Arvin didn’t recognize. The naga whipped its head around, staring at her, and made a series of strangled cries that sounded almost like words. Then it gave a long, menacing hiss.
Arvin groaned. Karrell had distracted the naga’s attention from the couple—but her spell seemed to have angered the monster. Would a glowing bolt of magical energy follow?
Just then, however, the husband at last wrenched himself away from his wife. He balanced unsteadily on the hull, preparing to dive, but then his injured leg slipped on the wet wood. Spotting the sudden movement, the naga lashed down, catching the husband’s arm in its jaws. The wife screamed in horror. The husband cursed, striking the monster with his free hand. But his blows were feeble; the poison was swiftly sapping his strength.
That decided it.
Arvin sent his awareness deep into his chest, unlocking the energies stored there. As he exhaled through pursed lips, a faint scent filled the air—the power’s secondary display. To Arvin, it smelled of ginger and saffron, spices his mother used to cook with, but each person catching a whiff of it would interpret it differently. To some, it might be the scent of a flower; to others, the tang of heated metal.
Arvin directed the energy first at the husband, then at the naga. The monster continued to hold the husband’s arm in its jaws, oblivious to the fact its fate had just been linked with the human. The husband, meanwhile, grew increasingly weak. When his eyes began to glaze, the naga at last released him. The husband collapsed in a heap on the hull, next to his ashen-faced wife.
