Nightlord: Shadows by Garon Whited Page A

actual nuclear weapon detonation. I’ve seen lots of film, though. It was worth a shot. I shielded my eyes and handed it what I recalled from the Castle Bravo nuclear device.
    The arena blazed white. I could see the bones of my hand through the skin. Hagus screamed.
    The light faded. The arena, undamaged, was empty. Hagus was white and shaking, pressed back in his chair with his hands over his eyes.
    Hmm. Apparently, things in the arena can affect us , I thought. It might be important. On the other hand, if the bomb had been to scale, we were close enough that we should have been vaporized, or at least deep-fried. The arena must incorporate some sort of safeties. They probably didn’t anticipate something that gave off that much light, though… So, at a guess, it couldn’t really affect us, other than as something we could see.
    Okay. I could use that.
    I continued to feel my way along with tendrils, delicately tracing the legs of Hagus’ chair and working my way up along the sides and back. Hagus took a minute to recover, and I let him take his time.
    When he finally regained his poise, he pressed fingers to either side of his head, resting his elbows on the chair arms, and focused grimly on the arena.
    “All right. Your turn. Now!”
    And I realized that I could use things I hadn’t personally seen. Something from movies, or television, as long as I was familiar enough with it, would serve just as readily. But I felt I should test that.
    I put a giant robot in the arena. It drew a sword and looked around expectantly. So, anime and manga were on the table. It was a terrible realization.
    “Hagus, you’ve got no chance at winning this,” I told him.
    “Silence! I am about to destroy your golem.”
    “No, really,” I insisted. “You haven’t got a snowball’s chance in a solar flare. I mean it. You’re dealing with someone who has access to the combined creations of some of the most powerful explorers of the realms of what-might-have-been, what-could-be, and what-might-happen. I’m not all that impressive, but I just realized I can call upon powers far, far greater than myself. Asimov, Bradbury, Heinlein… Roddenberry, E.E. Smith… Lucas and Spielberg… you really don’t understand!”
    “I said, silence! Here!”
    And my giant robot faced some sort of earth-being, an elemental of rock and soil. They went at it, but I paid no attention. I might be about to get another needle through the head, but in the meantime, I had a deeper plan. Tendrils. Psychic, spiritual, magical… creeping ever-more-thickly up along and around Hagus’ chair. His metaphorical chair, but the very real psychic/spiritual presence in it.
    It was a long fight, and I was very pleased. Sadly, my robot lost; the elemental kept getting better while the robot retained damage. But it took a while, and that was what I wanted.
    I grimaced again as the sting of losing shot through my head. I didn’t mind it so much. I knew I was dead, and that whatever I might suffer now would get better in record time. Knowing that it hurts, but can’t actually harm you, takes a lot of the sting out of being wounded.
    Plus, I had a plan.
    “All right,” I acknowledged. “Another for you. But, no matter what you do, if you don’t quit this, right now, you’re going to suffer for it. You’re facing not just a nightlord, but an elder geek . You have no idea just how awful this is about to become for you. My god, do you realize that you could have to deal with the Enterprise? Or the Death Star? To say nothing of Superman, or the Avengers. Or Mentor. Please… I’m giving you a chance, which is more than you wanted to give me. I swear to you, you really don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
    Hagus snorted and nodded to the arena. It filled with water—it looked like a section of ocean, viewed from a mile or so in the sky. Tiny little whitecaps showed a fair amount of wind. I rolled my eyes.
    “I don’t even need to get fancy for this,” I said,