Viperhand - Douglas Niles [56]
"Ghirrina" she said, whispering the charm spell softly. Instantly the warrior's face relaxed into an expression of complete trust, and Darien knew the spell had been successful. The warrior now regarded her as a faithful friend and confidant.
She began to ask him questions, and he began to answer.
From the chronicles of Colon:
Seeking a worthy lord among a seething nest of godhood.
Zaltec's presence, always here, always hungry, is growing into a force to wrack the True World. The cult of the Vi-perhand, whereby young warriors-even some women and untrained youths-vow their hearts and souls and bodies to the god of war, has grown like a tumor in Nexal.
The god of the strangers, Helm, is also a presence I can feel. Eternally vigilant and watchful, he stakes his claim to Maztica boldly, a clear challenge to Zaltec.
Now, too, I have sensed a new and spidery essence, a goddess of darkness and evil such to make even Zaltec appear playful and benign. Her name is Lolth. This being is tied to the Ancient Ones, I know. She watches from a great distance, but her interest grows intense.
But she is also tied somehow to the strangers. This is a connection I cannot identify, but I sense that it is very real. And this frightens me deeply.
A connection between the True World and the land of these strangers that goes beyond the bounds of the human cultures is dangerous enough. A connection that is personified in the blackness of this spider queen has the potential for menace and disaster beyond belief.
A FEAST FOR VULTURES
Halloran and Poshtli clung to the horse and gave the powerful mare her head. Rejoicing in the countryside after weeks in the city, Storm galloped with the exaltation of a wild beast escaping to freedom from a cage.
The two men bore their steel swords. Halloran wore his breastplate, Poshtli the padded cotton armor of the Mazti-can warrior. Hal's other possessions-the potions, the spellbook, the leather snakeskin bond-these he had buried in the garden of his house back in Nexal.
They rode in grim silence, out of the valley of Nexal, past Cordotl, and along the mountain road. Their faces-one pale and bearded, framed in brown hair; the other brown, smooth, noble-featured beneath hair of black-reflected their inner turmoil.
Both of them were sick with fear for Erixitl.
Palul lay a mere two days' march by foot from Nexal, so they knew that the warriors of Naftecona's ambush had already arrived at their destination. The question was whether or not the two of them could get there before Cor-dell.
Halloran spent every moment of silence cursing himself, an unrelenting stream of rebuke that slashed mercilessly from all sides. How could he have let her go? Wallowing in his self-pity, he had committed a criminal act of neglect against the woman he loved.
And by Helm, how he loved her! The feeling burned like never before, brought home by his acute fear.
"I asked her if she would become my wife," said Poshtli after Storm slowed to a brisk walk. Hal jerked upright. He felt suddenly embarrassed about his unnoticed presence at that meeting.
"You are a very lucky man."
"She refused me," the warrior said frankly. He chuckled, a forced good humor. "An honor any family in Nexal would hail, but she said no."
Stunned, Hal didn't dare speak. His embarrassment turned to shame over the blind assumption he had made. Slowly he realized that his stupidity had driven Erix from him in Nexal, sending her, all unwittingly, to the center of a vast and growing storm.
Angrily he kicked Storm's flanks, and the mare broke into a fast trot. Despite the load of two men, she held the pace for hour after hour.
"It will be evening before we reach the village," said Poshtli, observing their progress.
"We'll get there in time-before Cordell." Halloran spoke with a forced confidence he didn't feel. In truth, he did not know when the legion would arrive in Palul, or how much delay would follow before the ambush.
Neither of them wanted to think about the other possibility, the thought that battle could be raging in Palul