Creation Mage 6 by Dante King (detective books to read txt) 📕

“Sit!” I yelled.

No luck. I hadn’t thought it would work, but it had been worth a shot. The hellhound pelted onward. It crashed through the pond, not bothering to go around it, and a spray of water saturated me.

“If that starts to chafe, you’re really going to get it,” I growled, thinking of the stairs that I still, hopefully, had to descend.

A high, snarling scream of rage came out of the mists of water that the monstrous dog had plowed up. Briefly, through the curtain of silver rain, I caught a glimpse of flashing yellow fangs and mad, rolling red eyes.

The dog emerged out of the spray of water and lunged at me. Its face was a mask of disbelieving fury that something had been ballsy and foolish enough to come trotting into its domain.

I threw my miniature ass to the side at the last moment, rolling out of the way as the hellhound went past like the California Zephyr. Snapping and snarling and spraying water droplets every which way.

Bizarrely, despite the fact that the hellhound wanted to turn me into hamburger meat, I found myself hesitant to blast the dog with magic.

“Come on, Justin, it’s not your average Fido, no matter what it might look like!” I said to myself. “Fido doesn’t have teeth that big, or eyes that look like they’re on fire. Fido can’t fucking swallow you whole!”

The hellhound skidded around after it had missed me. Its claws scrabbled once more on the stone, so eager was it to get back to the pressing business of tearing me to pieces. I couldn’t fault its enthusiasm. It was obviously earning its wage as relic guardian. It boomed out a couple of barks that actually made me step back a couple of paces and blurred my vision. It charged once more.

I used my miniature black crystal staff to send a Storm Bolt fizzing toward my enemy, but the magical shot missed, thanks to my unfocused vision, and blew a chunk out of a stone pillar over the dog’s shoulder.

I just had time to blink a few times and thrust my staff out and let loose a Compulsion curse. The ribbon-like spell hit the dog in the mouth just before its jaws were set to snap closed on me and made it veer off to the side. One of its forelegs clipped me and sent me sprawling across the stones. I rolled to my feet, but my foot caught on a crack in the stonework, and I went tumbling again.

The Compulsion spell was a curse that increased the target’s anger and fanned it into a murderous rage. Might not sound ideal, but if the target was as insanely pissed as this hellhound was, then it actually acted as distraction.

I regained my feet and saw that the hellhound was busy ripping apart random lumps of stone with its bare teeth. As I watched, it headbutted a tree stump and exploded it into shards of rotten wood.

I almost felt sorry for the creature, but I reminded myself that a quest was a quest. I was a War Mage at the end of the day. I could puzzle out any moral complexities after I lopped this frenzied fucker’s head off.

I planted my feet, took a long, slow breath through my nose, and exhaled. A plan had popped into my head. All that was required now was to put it into practice.

I charged.

I sprinted toward the hellhound. It was a big and ugly thing, and it loomed ever larger in front of me as I ran toward it. As I hurdled bits of wood and rock, and ran around clumps of weeds that were now like the size of small trees, I summoned a Frostfire Golem.

I couldn’t believe that it had taken me this long to think of whipping up a little bit of thaumaturgical help. The golem would be able to make short work of the dog while I looked for the relic.

The Frostfire Golem appeared just in front of the hellhound, and I was suddenly made very aware that it was not just me that had been shrunk.

It was my magic too.

The golem should have been about nine feet tall. Instead, it was about ten inches high.

It brandished its icy, fire-filled fists at the dog. The hellhound, caught in the throes of the Compulsion curse, paid it no heed. The golem reached out and grabbed clumps of the hound’s hair and yanked them, probably trying to rip the legs from its foe.

Instead, the golem came away with two fistfuls of hair, and the hellhound found itself bald from the shins down.

The hellhound yelped and whirled about in a perfect three-sixty bound. It landed on its feet and stared down at the little Frostfire Golem with popping eyes. Its maw was gaping, showing off its sizable and very lethal teeth, each easily long enough to go right through the golem. Its pupils contracted as it focused on the thing that had just given it an impromptu wax job.

It roared throatily and brought a meaty paw down on the Frostfire Golem.

The Frostfire Golem exploded under the force of the blow. It burst apart in shards of fire and ice, the magic that animated it disappearing like mist under the sun.

I was sad to see it go, but by that time, I was already in position.

A flaming orange axe blossomed in my hand, like an elemental lightsaber being activated. I let loose a cry of determination that the hellhound couldn’t have missed or mistaken for anything other than a challenge.

The hellhound turned, saw me standing just to its right, cocked its head at me, and shrieked in defiance, enveloping me in a hot gust of putrid breath.

“Fuck a duck, somebody’s been cleaning out their asshole with their tongue again!” I yelled.

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