He charged like a wild bull, this once-great priest and scholar, bony spikes sprouting between his knuckles. Anthousa raised two fingers in warding, and her spell deflected his jagged fist. Around them, Kelari clashed in the streets of Atia.
“Kelari blood runs in the gutters because you cling to old, stupid ways!” sneered Karris, a wave of heat from his open palm melting her ward away.
The High Priestess made no sign of discomfort even as the dregs of Karris’s spell singed her eyebrows away. He’d become obscenely powerful; Anthousa had to keep him talking. Anthousa found her most imperious tone, always close at hand. “Kelari blood need not concern you, Karris. All I see is another gibbering Wanton.”