Venom's Taste - Lisa Smedman [39]
Arvin did as instructed, mentally guiding the energy up his spine. It seemed to find a resting point all on its own, coiling just inside his forehead, between his eyes.
Zelia stepped in front of him, holding something: his magical glove. Seeing it in her hand, he nearly lost his concentration.
“Maintain your focus!” Zelia snapped. “Keep the energy tightly coiled, until it’s time to use it.”
Realizing that she had chosen a valuable possession deliberately, to test him, Arvin gritted his teeth and found his focus again.
“Good. Now reach out with the energy; direct its energy with your gaze. Take the glove from my hand.”
Arvin tried but could not. “I… don’t think I can,” he gasped.
Zelia’s lips curved into a tight smile.
Prodded by anger-she didn’t want him to succeed-Arvin tried harder and felt the energy in his forehead loosen… just a little.
Zelia backed away from him, retreating until she was up against the vine-covered rail that surrounded the rooftop. She continued to hold the glove in front of her. “Give up?” she smirked.
Arvin shook his head and continued to concentrate. Once again, the energy loosened-but not enough. The glove in Zelia’s hands twitched then lay still.
Zelia’s eyes widened. “Try again,” she said, serious once more. “Send the energy out all at once… now!” As she spoke, she tossed the glove over the edge of the rooftop.
“No,” Arvin gasped.
The energy that had been spiraling between his eyes suddenly rushed out through them. He saw a bright streak of silver flash out toward the glove. His vision filled with sparkling light. When it cleared, the line of light was gone. The glove, however, was hovering above the rail. Tentatively, with slow jerks, he drew the invisible energy back toward him, reeling it back into his mind. The glove was tugged along with it and moved through the air toward him with short, choppy movements then fell onto the ground in front of him.
“You can relax now.”
Arvin sagged onto the ground and let the tension flow from his muscles. Sitting up, he tilted his head to stretch his neck. “I did it,” he said. “I learned a new power.”
“Yes.” Zelia stared at him with a thoughtful expression, as if his success had surprised her. “That’s enough for one night,” she said curtly. “It’s almost Middark. I must see if the cultists have returned to the chamber.”
Arvin nodded, suddenly exhausted. Trembling slightly, he pulled his clothes back on. He’d expected the invigorating rush of energy to continue, but all he wanted to do was sleep. He hoped the headache would let him. When he’d finished dressing, he sat again, his back against one of the potted plants. He found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Even his curiosity about what Zelia was doing-sinking into a cross-legged position with the soles of her feet uppermost, just as his mother had done when she meditated-couldn’t keep him awake.
As Zelia stared off into the night sky, hissing as she summoned up the psionic power that would let her peer into the sewer chamber, he fell asleep…
And into the strangest dream.
CHAPTER 7
23 Kythorn, Middark
Arvinlay on his side, knees drawn up to his chest and arms coiled around his legs. He was midway between sleep and wakefulness-aware that he lay on a rooftop, his breaths slow and even as they hissed in and out of his mouth, yet with his mind entangled in the strands of a dream. It was a strange sensation, almost as if he were awake and observing the dream from a distance-a dream that was as vivid as waking.
In the dream he was a child-a serpent child. He was slithering down a corridor as fast as he could, contractions rippling through his body as he pushed with his scales against the smooth green stone of the floor. Behind him loomed a human child of about five years of age-two years younger than Arvin-with braided hair and a slave brand on her cheek. She was laughing as she chased Arvin into