He whirled toward the retreating boat, barely visible from the shore by now, and his staff burst into incandescent blue flame as he lifted it in his right hand, the hand that projects energy, drawing it back. “No!” I shouted, and lurched toward him. He spun, eyes surrounded by white, his face scarlet, his teeth bared in a snarl, snapping his staff out . . . And what looked like a comet about the size of a quarter, blazing like a star, leapt from the staff, like some kind of bizarre random static spark, and plunged into my ribs and out my spine.
