Viperhand - Douglas Niles [20]
Many blank pages remained in that volume, yet this was the last of the wizard's scrolls. The rest of her incantations would remain lost to her…
Until she recovered her spellbook.
Darien's tight lips curled into a sneer of hatred as she thought of the treacherous Halloran. His betrayal of the legion, his escape from imprisonment, these were only minor matters to the elfmage. But, she vowed as she had vowed many times before, for the theft of her spellbook, he would die.
Shaking her head, she saw with irritation that sunrise had begun to color the sky beyond the window of her room. Outside, she heard Cordell and his officers barking commands, preparing the legion for the march.
Unconsciously tightening her hood around her face, though the hateful sun would not crest the horizon for several more minutes, she pondered her own goals. Her hatred for Halloran simmered low as she considered more immediate concerns.
The march on Nexal would begin today. She sensed Cor-dell's passion for the mission and knew that she could do nothing to alter his aims. For a moment, she felt as though she was losing control of things, that events had started to move forward without her. Grimly she shook off the notion, standing and gathering her own possessions to herself. She couldn't allow that to happen, couldn't let the future plot its own course.
Control-her control-meant everything.
"PoshtH didn't return here last night, did he?" asked Hal-' loran. He had slept late and now wandered sleepily into the enclosed garden, where he found Erix.
"Nor this morning," she replied. She sat quietly, looking thoughtfully into the garden's fountain. Idly she picked up a peach and took a bite of the juicy fruit. Halloran noticed his own hunger and took a half melon from the bowl of fruit that had been delivered to their quarters.
He carried the leather-bound spellbook with him. At first he had intended to sit out here in the garden and study it. His early training as an apprentice magic-user lingered in his mind, at least enough so that he could understand some of the simpler portions of Darien's book.
But now such a pursuit seemed a dull way to start the day, and so he returned the tome to his knapsack. There he found the two potion bottles. One, he knew, caused invisibility, but the effects of the second were unknown. He picked up the second bottle, looking at the clear glass vial curiously.
"No!" Erixitl's scream almost caused him to drop the vial. Instead he set it back in the pack and looked at her in surprise. Her face had paled with fear.
"That one-it frightens me!" she said softly. "Throw it away!"
"That doesn't make any sense!" he argued. He resolved to sample the vial and learn its contents sometime when Erix wasn't watching.
"So there has been no word from Poshtli?" Hal ventured.
Erix seemed relieved at the new topic of discussion. "I wonder what he told his uncle," she mused. "How much do you think Naltecona has heard about your legion?"
"It's not 'my' legion anymore."
Hal vividly remembered his last view of his former comrades, the elite company of lancers. Under the command of the brutal Captain Alvarro, they had ridden amok, stampeding like animals among the Mazticans who had gathered to watch the battle at Ulatos. Uncounted hundreds had died simply to slake the man's thirst for blood. Indeed, it had been Alvarro's charge toward Erix that had forced Hal to take up arms against the legion.
"I'm certain Naltecona has heard enough to make him concerned." Halloran spoke, as did she, in Nexalan, now feeling quite comfortable with the tongue.
"Poshtli will make him understand!" exclaimed Erix enthusiastically. "I know he will. He seems terribly wise for one so young."
Halloran turned away, suddenly tense. He looked at the beauty around them, but