Viperhand - Douglas Niles [116]
"The humor is in this man's foolish naivete!" Darien barked, her mouth still twisted in grim amusement. Her eyes, however, remained cold and lifeless.
Halloran felt a chill of fear.
"He is in my power now," Darien continued. "Without the wench to protect his body, my magic can tear the secret of the spellbook from his mind!
"But before your soul becomes mine," she added, "there is another thing you should know."
Now Halloran's blood froze in his veins, and he imagined her words before she spoke.
"tour woman is already dead!"
"What?" demanded Cordell. "She was under my protection) How dare you-"
"tourprotection?" Darien scoffed. "Like the legion is under your protection-the safety of your wisdom, your keen planning?"
"What do you mean? Explain yourself!" Cordell growled. The legionnaires edged nervously back, never having witnessed such an exchange between the general and his elven mistress.
"'tbu have been a useful tool," she sneered, "but that use is finished. The girl is dead…"
The pause that followed seemed to leave room for the sun to rise and set, yet still that bright, full moon hung suspended in the sky.
"And know this," Darien continued, almost conversationally. "There will be war."
Suddenly she raised her finger and barked a sharp, magical command. A bolt of hot magic burst like an arrow from her finger, slashing forward to explode in her victim's chest. Another, and a third, and still more magic missiles darted forth. Each struck deep into her target's blistered skin, crackling and sizzling with arcane power, ripping his body apart, driving him backward. Blue sparks hissed while the others stood, shocked and speechless.
As the spell finally waned, Naltecona's torn and bleeding form tottered on the edge of the roof. A sudden hush fell across the mob below. Then, already dead, the mangled figure of the Revered Counselor toppled from the roof to crash to the paving stones of the plaza below.
Magic still sparked across the roof, a residue of the killing power that had slain Naltecona. This power sizzled as light, flaring upward and then falling back, casting everything alternately in brightness and shadows.
As the light pulsed, Halloran stared at Darien, watching her in stunned, disbelieving shock. In the brightness, her skin gleamed with the alabaster whiteness caused by her albinism.
Yet in the shadows, it seemed to be dark, as black as any draw's.
From the chronicles of Colon:
Now the True Wbrld stands poised at the brink of chaos. My fingers tremble, and my brushes move unsteadily across the page. I must put them down, and I hold my breath as the fate of the land takes shape.
BLACK AND WHITE
Erixitl suddenly broke her feet free, and she instantly ran from the shadows into the bright moonlight, toward those clustered at the edge of the roof. Around her, the city seemed frozen, strangely paralyzed. "Hal!" she cried.
Whirling, his face split into a look of disbelief, then disbelieving happiness. He shouted, "Erix! You're alive!" then swept her into his arms. His relief turned to fury, and again he turned to Darien.
He saw the wizard's face then, twisted into a look of shock, dismay… and fear.
"No!" Darien gasped, her voice a strangled choke.
"You treasonous witch!" Daggrande howled, looking at the place where Naltecona had stood. "You've killed us all!" From below, howls of outrage erupted from the Nexalan masses. They surged toward the palace, blind rage growing quickly into battle frenzy.
"What-what have you done?" Cordell gaped at her.
"What are you?" asked Bishou Domincus, softly, fearfully.
Holding Erixitl at his side, Halloran studied the albino elf. He saw the other legionnaires, with their expressions of shock and anger and disbelief-and, slowly, growing fear as the rage of the Nexalans swelled from the plaza around them.
He alone understood.
"Ifou're one of them, aren't you?" he stated quietly. "An Ancient One. A dark elf. That's why you avoid the sun, not because of your delicate skin. You've planned