Mort scream

She stared into the blue, pupil-less pools of his eyes. It was like looking down a rushing tunnel.

Mort arched his back and screamed a curse so ancient and virulent that in the strong magical field it actually took on a form, flapped its leathery wings and slunk away. A private thunderstorm crashed around the sand dunes.

His eyes drew her again. She looked away before she dropped like a stone down a well made of blue light.

I COMMAND YOU. Mort’s voice could have cut holes in rock.

“Father tried that tone on me for years,” she said calmly. “Generally when he wanted me to clean my bedroom. It didn’t work then, either.”

Mort screamed another curse, which flopped out of the air and tried to bury itself in the sand.

***

Mort p177