Viperhand - Douglas Niles [65]
"We'll never find her!" Hal groaned as they closed to within a mile of the town. They could see the village pyramid, a small, bright blaze marking the temple and its bloody altar. The conflagration had blackened whole rows of houses. They saw few Mazticans this close to Palul. Those they did encounter were badly wounded or numb with shock.
"Do you think she would have recognized us?" asked Poshtli, wondering if they had already passed Erix among the fleeing villagers.
"I don't know," Hal groaned. "I wouldn't blame her if she ran and hid as soon as she saw the horse."
"Perhaps we should separate," said Poshtli. "We can circle Palul in opposite directions and meet beyond the village. If we don't find her, then we can slip into town and see if she's still there."
"Her father's house," said Hal, remembering Erixitl's description. "She said it was on the ridge above Palul, near the top. She might have gone there."
They both saw the looming green slope on the far side of the town.
"Let's meet at the foot of the slope." Poshtli squinted into the distance as he dismounted. "There, near that waterfall." He indicated a bright cascade where a small stream plummeted from a gorge in the side of the ridge.
"All right," Hal agreed. He clasped the warrior's hand. "Keep your eyes open. There'll be legionnaires about."
Poshtli nodded brusquely, then turned and slipped from the right side of the road into a tangle of low trees. Hal reined Storm to the left, starting into a field of mayz. Anxiously he looked around, hoping desperately to catch some sight of Erixttl.
He rode for several minutes, trying to avoid the Mazticans he found-pathetic family groups hiding among the mayz, old couples, speechless and stunned by the events of the day. The most horrifying to Halloran were the lone children, crying waifs, some of whom didn't even know enough to hide at his hoof-pounding approach.
He tried to look past them, to seek Erixitl beyond, on some clean, windswept slope above the fields, but he couldn't. Halloran sensed that, with this battle, something deep and irrevocable had fallen between himself and his former comrades. No longer did he feel like a fugitive, wanting only to avoid the soldiers of the legion. Now he began to feel like their enemy.
Suddenly he squinted, distracted by something he glimpsed through a tree line-a flash of color, nothing more, that reminded him of Erixitl's cloak. Spurring Storm to a gallop, he raced toward the row of greenery. As he suspected, it marked the course of a shallow stream. The mare plowed through the water, throwing a curtain of spray before bounding easily up the far bank.
His eyes flared as he saw Alvarro some distance away, straddling someone on the ground. Another legionnaire, dismounted and held two horses nearby. The latter looked up at Hal with a wicked grin, expecting one of his comrades.
Halloran recognized him as Vane, an unscrupulous bully, one of Alvarro's regular companions.
"Hal!" Erix cried, struggling beneath the red-bearded brute. Alvarro looked up and stared at Halloran in shock, while Vane sneered and leaped into his saddle. Drawing his sword, he thundered toward Hal.
Grimly Halloran turned Storm into Vane's charge, drawing and raising Helmstooth at the same time. He thrust instinctively with the steel blade as the two horses smashed shoulders. The collision threw Hal from the saddle even as the mare moved nimbly to the side.
Vane's horse stumbled and fell, but its rider paid no heed, for Halloran had stabbed him through the heart.
Alvarro, meanwhile, leaped up, leaving Erix gasping on the ground. Blindly Hal sprang to his feet and attacked. His ankle throbbed from his fall, but his limp didn't slow down his hatred or determination.
"I see your treachery is complete!" sneered Alvarro, driving Halloran back with a two-handed blow. "Now you even kill for the savages!"
The blades clashed together, and Hal felt pain shoot through his right arm. Tumbling back, he couldn't twist away from Alvarro's thrust. The man's blade slipped behind his breastplate,