He stepped out into the long corridor of rock and confronted his foes. He could not see the tigers, but he could smell their feline musk, hear their angry growls, feel the heat of their bodies and their fiery claws. There were at least ten of them, perhaps a score, but Akar knew no fear. He knew with utter precision the length, width, and depth of his power, and he knew with equal precision how to use it.
His servants who’d been fighting the tigers in the corridor disengaged from the battle at the sight of their master. They backed against the wall, or through doorways, or vanished altogether. They knew better than to stand between the mighty wizard and any target he set his attention to.
And the wizard Akar uplifted his hands and a hurricane swept down the corridor, a wild wind whistlin
