Viperhand - Douglas Niles [70]
"I myself can see very little," said Lotil. Nevertheless he reached out with unerring aim and took one of each of their hands. "But some things it is given me to see, and this I see for the two of you."
Halloran felt the old man's surprisingly strong grip. Lotil's strength was a comfort to him, and he returned the pressure, feeling a deep bond of friendship form between himself and the old man. It was more than the pressure of a handshake, but that clasp seemed to symbolize and define it for him.
"My blind eyes can see that the two of you are linked," Lotil continued. "And part of this link is formed of shadow-a darkness that was not dissipated by the events of this day.
"But another part of the link, and, we can hope, the stronger part, is formed of light. Together the two of you may yet bring light to a darkening world. I know, at least, that you must try."
"Light? Bring it to the world? Father, what do you mean?" asked Erix, looking at Hailoran in wonder. He looked back, warmed by the expression in her eyes and by her father's words. Meanwhile, Lotil answered.
"I do not know, child. I wish that I did." The old man turned to Hal. "Now, you are wounded! Come, lie here."
Hailoran stared at the blind man in surprise, suddenly sensing again the sharp pain in his chest. Erixitl took his arm and led him toward a straw mat in a corner of the hut.
Before Hal reached it, the world began to spin around him. He groaned, his legs collapsing as he barely sensed Lotil and Erix supporting him. Looking around, he blinked, but everything before his eyes slowly faded to black.
Chical, lord of the Eagle Knights, entered Naltecona's presence for once without donning the rude garments normally required of visitors to the great throne room.
This time there was no need to affect a bedraggled appearance. The scars of battle marked the legs, arms, and face of the warrior. His once proud Eagle cloak was a tattered rag. As he advanced toward the throne, he looked so battered that it seemed a miracle he could even walk. Even so, he had flown, in avian form, from Palul to Nexal.
Now his pride sustained him, holding his head high until he knelt before the great pluma litter that was Naltecona's throne.
"Rise and speak!" demanded the Revered Counselor.
"Most Revered One, it is disaster! A thousand times worse than we could have feared!"
"Tell me, man!" Naltecona leaped to his feet. His feathered cloak whirled around him as he stalked toward the groveling warrior. "Where is Kalnak?"
"Dead-slain by the first blow of the battle. My lord, they knew of the ambush. They were prepared for it and unleashed their own attack before we could act." Weeping, Chical told the tale of the massacre, and Naltecona sank back into his litter. His face grew slack, his eyes vacant, to the point that it seemed he no longer listened.
"Then they summoned killing smoke, a fog that reached its fingers into the hiding places of our men, slaying them even as they breathed. Revered One, we must make immediate preparations if we hope to stand against men like this-if indeed they are men!"
"No, they are not," said Naltecona with a sigh. "It is clear now that they are not men at all."
He stood and paced slowly along his raised dais. The row of courtiers and attendants behind him stared in universal terror and awe at the tear-streaked face of Chical.
"My lord," said the Eagle Knight, standing at last, "allow me to gather all of our warriors. We can hold them at the causeways. We can keep them out of the city."
Naltecona sighed, a portentous sound in the vast throne room. Evening's shadows drew long across the floor while the ruler paced and thought. Finally he stopped and faced Chicaf.
"No," he said. "There will be no battle at Nexal. I asked the gods to favor us with a victory at Palul, to show that the invaders are indeed mortal men. That sign was not forthcoming.
"The proof is clear," Naltecona concluded. "The strangers are not men