Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [111]
"No… not good. I don't know how bad." He looked directly into Erix's eyes. "It appears that I have inadvertently stolen the spellbook of the wizard, Darien." He explained the significance of the find, knowing that this tome held a copy of each magical spell in Darien's arsenal.
"Of course, they aren't useful to anyone except a trained magic-user. You can go mad trying to read a spell that is beyond your abilities. More than likely, it just won't make any sense."
Yet as he spoke, the smooth leather cover seemed to beckon invitingly from his lap. His eyes wandered downward, intrigued and tantalized. He held the book, shut, for a long time, eventually noticing that Erix had dropped off to sleep.
How much do I remember? he mused, over and over. Finally he flipped the book open to its first page.
A searing flash burned his eyes, and he slammed the cover shut, blinking. Yet within the brief instant of that flash, he had recognized symbols, words of arcane power.
Carefully he opened the book again. This time the flash was not so bright. He forced his eyes to remain fixed on the page and was elated as he identified the enchantment.
A sleep spell! This was one he had once known.
Could he learn it again? Carefully he scrutinized the symbols. Some of them became clear to him, but others seemed to waver on the page, just beyond the reach of his understanding. His head began to throb, but still he studied.
Finally it was sheer fatigue, and not magic, that caused his head to drop back and his eyes to close.
Halloran dreamed of Arquiuius. The old wizard counseled him on his magic missile spell, cuffing his ears when he mispronounced a syllable or let his attention wander. In the dream, he studied the spell and attempted it dozens of times, always failing in one crucial aspect or another.
Then suddenly he got it right, firing the enchantment off in a sparkling trail. He leaped up, thrilled with the success, but his tutor passed it off with a gruff "That is acceptable." Immediately Arquiuius gave him another task, the learning of the light spell. He labored over the new incantation, trying to cast it again and again, but he could not capture the rhythms of the enchantment.
Arquiuius left him and went to sleep. Still the youthful Halloran practiced, and still he failed. Tears of frustration rolled down his cheeks, but no one offered sympathy. Again he studied, his eyes straining under weak candlelight to read figures that seemed to slip elusively across the page.
Over and over and over he tried the spell, and each time his task grew more difficult. But always he went back to it, and now, finally, he felt that he was getting close. He was almost there!
He shouted a word, something from his distant past, and suddenly sat upright in fright. Instantly the inside of the grotto blossomed with cool, white light, harshly gleaming against the dark night above.
Did I do that? was Hal's first thought. Then he heard the howling.
"If the white men want the gold of this house, let them come and take it themselves! Now leave me!" Gultec growled at the plump nobleman, a nephew of Caxal's. The little fellow squealed in terror and fled down the street as the Jaguar Knight angrily slammed the gate.
For some time, Gultec brooded in the garden before the House of Jaguars. Several of the younger warriors crouched listlessly in their chambers, while others wandered aimlessly among the flowers and ponds. Most of the rooms were empty now, their former occupants lying on the field beyond the city.
Why was I spared? Why, when so many young knights, so many fathers and brothers, so many with so much to live for, perished? Why was I, who have nothing, spared?
Gultec pulled his flint dagger from his belt and cut long slashes in his forearms. He watched the blood drip to the ground, but his act of penance brought no healing to his spirit.
He stood and stretched, catlike, looking at the House of Jaguars wistfully. This elegant mansion, home for members of his order who had no wives, no families, had sheltered him for more years than