Chapter eighteen
Pitched into the depthsI, Dray Prescot, Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, felt all the blood in my body congeal. My heart thudded with pain. I trembled. The eyes of the demon mesmerized me. Sparks flew from those orbs, gigantic orbs, swelling and bloating with power. In the next heartbeat — if my heart could ever beat again — supernal bolts of fire would lash from those eyes and burn me to a crisp.
There was just one chance, just the one, and the little brown and red scorpion was my only hope.
Headlong, I dived for the yellow silk curtain from which the scorpion had so delicately waddled.
No time to lift the drape. No time to do anything but hurl myself full at the wall.
My shoulder hit the yellow silk. It bulged inward. For a frightful moment I thought I had thrown
