The sunburst of brilliance lifted, shuddering. It foamed and grew, incandescent in the sheer brilliance of the white fire that burst and bloomed within it.
A thin stream of fire reached out, touched Lunol and laved him in its blinding whiteness.
And Lunol shrank in upon himself, grew smaller, almost tiny within the bubble of brilliance that held him. He grew, then. Expanded suddenly. And where Lunol and the hungry white fire had been was just blackened smoke, drifting across the yellow floor.
Flaith turned her face in against Kael's chest. Her fingers bit their nails convulsively into his flesh. Her body shook so badly that its trembling moved the McCanahan as he stood on firmly planted legs.
Another pencil of fire stabbed out.
Stabbed out, and—
Halted!
In midair it halted, spreading across an invisible wall of nothingness that was erected before the McCanahan and the girl he held.
There was puzzlement in the pulsing of the thing, in the blind, angry dartings of the pencil-beam of flame. It moved to the floor, and quested upward to the ceiling. It darted from wall to wall, seeking to penetrate the barrier that sheltered its victims.
And now the amazement was gone. The white fire burned lower, as if afraid.