The face in the static solidified. It was huge and ugly
and misshapen, its hate-filled eyes fixed on Tark.
‘Reactivate the force-field,’ ordered Tee.
Tark didn’t move. He stood, transfixed by the swirling
‘Force-field!’ yelled Gal.
‘Zyra,’ the creature rumbled, baring its
Tark dropped the control. He lifted his crossbow and
fired both bolts.
Laughter rumbled from the cave. Gal jumped forward, scooped
up the control and activated the force-field.
A shimmer flickered across the mouth of the cave. The
mass of sizzling malevolence grew, surging forward and
pressing itself against the barrier. Sparks filled the
air as claws formed in the static, scrabbling against
the invisible screen.
‘You idiot!’ growled Gal.
‘Zyra,’ Tark whispered, dropping his crossbow.
‘It said Zyra.’
‘So what?’ Gal turned to Tee. ‘You
see? You can’t trust him. He’s a risk.’
‘Zyra’s in danger.’ Tark’s voice
was louder and higher as he grabbed Gal by his tunic,
shaking him. ‘We’ve gotta do somethin’.’