The explosion ripped through the windows, blasted out the door, and tore gaping holes in the walls. The roof disintegrated in a spray of shredded steel. A pillar of flame shot a hundred feet into the air, and with a great groan, the warehouse’s walls collapsed, the ground trembling.
The flames turned night into a hellish day.
Marugon and Goth stood alone in the street.
Marugon stared at the burning debris with a sour expression. It galled him to think how close he had come to his own destruction. “So. It was a trap. I did not think their wielder of white magic had such a last display in him.”
Goth growled.
Marugon laughed. “No. They could not have hoped to survive such a spell. Rather…it was a last stand. Perhaps they hoped to destroy me as well as themselves.”
“They feared to be taken alive,” said Goth.
Marugon’s laughter redoubled. “Can you blame them, considering what your kin would have done to them? Especially the woman.” Goth remained silent. “Speaking of your kin, five of them perished in the blast. One died on the street. Does that not trouble you?”
“No,” said Goth.
“Why not?” said Marugon.
“Six fewer rivals I shall have to kill one day,” said Goth.
Marugon laughed. “Indeed. There is a reason you have been king of the winged demons for so many years, Goth-Mar-Dan.”
Goth said nothing.
Marugon gazed into the flaming ruin. “The last son of Scepteris, dead at last after so many years. His father banished me, in my youth, and led the war against the Black Council.” His lips spread in a grin. “And now the debt has been settled.” He titled his head and heard the distant wail of sirens.
“The city guards. Senator Wycliffe will be displeased,” said Goth. He sounded indifferent.
Marugon laughed. “Senator Wycliffe is a fool,” he said, voice amiable. “Oh, he is wise enough in his small ways. He thinks I lust for revenge against the High Kingdoms. And he is right…in a small way. He does not know what I truly wish. Nor could he even comprehend, if I deigned to tell him.”
“Shall I slay him?” said Goth.
Marugon chuckled. “No. He is too useful, for now. And I shall need him before all is done. Come, my friend. Let us return to Wycliffe’s stronghold. We have a great victory to celebrate, do we not?”
Marugon muttered a simple spell, and they walked unseen through the fire trucks and police cars that screeched to a halt before the pyre of Lithon Scepteris.
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