The Viper's Fangs (Book 2) (24 page)

Why didn’t it run?
Angus wondered, watching the two
halves of the creature peel apart and tumble down to either side of Hobart,
blue liquid flailing out like water spurting from a fountain. It flapped around
Hobart’s ankles for several seconds before becoming still.

Hobart sagged to his knees and ripped off his helmet. He was
gasping for breath as he looked quickly around. There were no more of the
creatures in sight, and he dropped his sword and started tearing at his armor.
He didn’t bother to untie the straps securing it in place; instead, he used brute
strength to snap them off. He let the armor fall to the stone and, when he
finished, staggered to the snow and dropped to his belly and rolled in it. Behind
him, there was a trail of blue and red streaks.

Angus stepped away from the creature and looked down at the
hand holding his dagger. It stung where the blue liquid had spattered on him,
and he hurried over to the snow and dropped the dagger into it. A moment later,
he knelt down and rubbed snow over his hand. When the tingling eased up, he
turned to his robe and rubbed snow over the blue liquid that had struck it.
Then he picked up his dagger and scrubbed it, too.

When he turned back to Hobart, he was naked, shivering, and
rubbing handfuls of snow on his face and into his hair.

The creatures lay in tatters on the smooth stone.

The steam from Angus’s spell had settled and was freezing
into a thin layer of ice.

Hobart flexed his shoulders and dropped down on his back to wriggle
in the snow.

“Help him!” Angus shouted at Ortis.

But as Ortis turned toward him, Hobart shouted, “Not me! My
armor! Before it does too much damage!”

Angus joined Ortis in picking up the pieces of the armor. As
he reached for a shin guard, he shook his head and said, “Acid.” He held it out
to Ortis. “See how it’s already pitting the surface of the metal?”

Ortis nodded, and they hurried up to the edge of the snow.
“Toss them here,” he said. “Join me when you’ve gotten all of them.” Then he
looked at Hobart and shook his head. “He can’t stay naked for long in this cold.”

“Never mind that for now,” Angus said. He picked up the
thick padding Hobart wore under his chest plate and quickly dropped it. It was
soaked with the blue liquid and even the brief touch had left his fingers tingling.
But it wasn’t corroding like the metal, so he left it laying there and reached
for the pieces of metal. “This is no good,” he called. “The padding is
drenched. It will have to be thoroughly washed before he can use it again. His
cloak, too.”

Hobart, dripping snow, came over to them. He was shivering
convulsively and splotches of red covered his body where the acid had begun to
burn through the skin.

“Here,” Angus said, standing up and taking off his cloak.
Hobart reached for it, but Angus let it fall to the ground. Instead, he removed
his robe and said, “Put this on. It won’t fit well, but it should keep you warm
for now.”

“But—”

Angus reached down for his cloak and said, “Trust me.” Then,
as an afterthought, he added, “Don’t stretch it out too much, and don’t worry
if it doesn’t cover everything.”

Hobart shrugged and put it on. It didn’t fit him very well;
the sleeves were voluminous enough for his muscular arms, but the cuffs barely
passed the elbows, and the tie in the front didn’t close completely.

“We’ll deal with this,” Ortis said. “You need to warm up.”

“Hey!” Hobart said, rubbing his chest. “This thing itches!”

Angus half-smiled. “Yes,” he said, “but it will keep you
warm for now. Do you have something else you can wear until we can clean your
padding and cloak?”

 Hobart nodded and gave a whistle. It was the shrill,
elongated one that Angus had come to recognize, and Leslie nickered in
response. When she came back, she paused at the perimeter of the clearing and
looked around before nervously stepping forward. “What’s got into you, girl?”
Hobart said, striding up to her and rubbing her nose. “We’ve been through
worse, haven’t we?”

Angus was already starting to feel the chill, but he wasn’t
cold yet. The cloak and physical activity were keeping him warm enough for now,
but he would have to put the gray apprentice robe on soon. He didn’t relish the
idea of having Hobart wearing his robe, but there was no sense letting him get
frostbite—or worse. But what if Hobart started looking in the pockets? What if
he
took
something?
No
, Angus thought, shaking his head.
He
won’t do that.
“Don’t scratch so much,” he called out to him. “It’s itching
because it wasn’t made for you, and it’s trying to adjust its magic to match up
with yours. It won’t be a perfect fit, but it will keep you warm for now.”
Yes
,
Angus thought, frowning.
But why does it make
me
itch? I made it for
me, and the magic should fit me perfectly. Why doesn’t it?

“We’re going to have to figure out a way to wash that
padding,” Ortis said.

“We can’t camp here,” Hobart said as he knelt beside Ortis.
“There may be more of those things nearby.”

“What are they?” Angus asked. “I think one of the mountain
men had a cloak made from one of them. At least, it had white fur like this
thing does.”

“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Ortis said. “But there
are other creatures with thick white fur that are more common.”

“Talk about it later,” Hobart said as he opened his saddle
bags and pulled out a folded navy blue tunic. “We have too much to do.”

“I found Giorge,” Ortis said.

“Giorge?” Angus repeated, looking around. “His horse bolted,
didn’t it?”

Ortis nodded and kept his eyes on the armor. “I hit him in
the foot with an arrow.”

“Is it bad?” Angus asked.

“No,” Ortis replied. “I was off-balance and didn’t get off a
good shot. It barely penetrated the leather of his boot and sock. But it’s
going to be painful for a few days, and I’ll have to sew it up. He was lucky
there weren’t any broken bones.” Ortis paused and then added, “We’ll have to
track down his horse. It kept running after he fell off. Sam ran off, too.”

“I’ll fetch them,” Angus said. “Hobart needs to make sure we
have all his armor. We don’t want you to lose any of it, do we?” The faster they
finished cleaning his armor, the sooner he would get his robe back.

Hobart had his dark brown breeches and soft brown boots out
now, and was reaching for his fur-lined brown cape. He opened the robe—but
didn’t take it off. Instead, he slipped his legs into his breeches and reached
for a boot.

“You’ll have your robe back when you return,” Hobart said,
scratching. “I’ll be glad to be rid of this itch!”

Angus nodded and mounted Gretchen. “Now you know why I’m
wearing the tunic and breeches.”
But I shouldn’t have to!
he thought as
he turned and rode down the path of one of the horses. Several minutes later he
found Sam milling around in a small clearing. As he rode into the clearing, Sam
nudged up close to Gretchen, nickering and snorting. “All right Sam,” he said,
leaning over to snatch up the lead rope. “Let’s find Millie.”

He backtracked to the point Sam’s path had diverged from the
other, and then followed the other one. The path led him to Ortis and Giorge
and then kept going. Ortis already had Giorge sewn up and was bandaging his
ankle with one of the many strips of cloth he had bought at Dagremon’s. “How
far do you think Millie went?” he asked, staring down the horse’s trail. It
disappeared around a handful of trees not too far away.

“She was pretty frantic,” Giorge said. “She probably ran for
quite a while. I’ve tried to call for her but she must be out of earshot.”

“Terrific,” Angus muttered, shivering a bit. Then, more
loudly, he said, “I’ll leave Sam with you.”

“We’ll have to camp near here,” Ortis said. “If you find a
spot, let us know. Otherwise, we’ll nestle in among the trees again. Hobart
will need time to fix his armor and wash his padding, and Giorge shouldn’t walk
on this foot for a day or two. At least Hobart’s burns are superficial and
should heal quickly.”

Angus nodded and started after Millie.
I hope I find her
before dark
, he thought.
I’d hate to have to use the Lamplight spell if
I don’t have to.

10

Angus followed Millie’s trail into another circular clearing,
and as soon as he entered it Gretchen’s hooves clacked on stone. Was it the
other circle indicated on the map? If so, it was a little different from the first
one because there was a well in its center. A long drift trailed from it to the
southeast, and a second drift went due south, forming a V shape with its point
at the well.

Millie was still on this side of the drifts, and when she
saw Angus, she nickered, trotted over, and nuzzled his thigh. He patted her on
the neck as he gathered up her reins, but before turning to lead her away, he
brought the magic into focus. The green tendril was there, and it was almost
tangible in appearance now. It went straight to the well and disappeared down inside
it. Angus let the magic slip away and cautiously eased up to the north rim of
the well where the snow had blown away.

It was a normal-looking well. The wall protecting it was
about three and a half feet high, made from mortared stone, and completed a
full circle with an external diameter of five feet and an internal one of three
and a half. A winch mechanism and bucket were rigged up above it, and over them
was a wide, circular, peaked roof that stretched out past the edge of the wall for
about two more feet. Four large posts supported the roof, and the bucket’s rope
was secured to a wooden spike sticking out of the one in the northeast corner.
He leaned over and tried to see down the well, but its depths were lost in
shadow and darkness. He dismounted and walked over to the nearest drift to collect
a chunk of wind-packed snow. It was hard enough that he had to use his dagger
to cut a piece off, but when he finally dropped it into the well, there was a
short delay and then a splash.

He shivered and brought the magic into view again. He had
hoped the well was frozen, since it would fit the curse’s magic if it had been,
but it wasn’t. The magic went deep enough into the well that the Viper’s Eyes
were probably underwater—if that was what was waiting for Giorge down there.
How far under, there was no way to tell, but they couldn’t deal with it until
tomorrow, anyway.

He turned back to Millie and brought his backpack down. He
set it on the well wall and flipped it open. The apprentice’s robe, a thick,
gray, woolen thing, was under his scrolls, and he paused. There was a bit of a
chill wind, and he moved his backpack to the ground by the well and knelt
protectively on its north side to block it. He reached in past the scrolls to
bring up the robe, and they settled securely into place despite the gap left by
its removal. He glanced at them to make sure they were still in the right
formation, and then he closed up his backpack. He put on the robe, and it
helped somewhat, but it wasn’t like his real robe; this warmth was uncertain. He
secured his backpack to the saddle again, and then remounted.

He rode quickly back to the others, and Millie fell into
place behind him. He had just gotten back to where Giorge and Ortis were when
Hobart and Ortis rode up to meet them. Hobart looked bizarre in Angus’s robe,
scratching his chest and twitching uncomfortably, his navy blue tunic and dark
brown breeches peeking out through the half-open front. He had wrapped up his
armor in his cloak and held the bundle in front of him on the saddle. Angus
frowned; Hobart had said he would be giving the robe back….

Giorge was bandaged, and when he saw Angus approaching,
Ortis helped him to his feet. He clicked his tongue, and Millie brushed past
Angus as she went to him.

“I found a place to camp,” Angus said to the others.
“There’s a well in a clearing up ahead. The water isn’t frozen, and we’ll be
able to wash your padding and cloak when we get there.”

“Are there any of those creatures there?” Hobart asked.

Angus shrugged. “If there are, I didn’t hear them and they
didn’t attack me.”

Ortis helped Giorge into his saddle, and then mounted his
own horse. “Let’s go,” he said. “We don’t have much light left.”

“What’s a well doing up here?” Giorge asked. “We haven’t
seen any sign of people up here at all.”

“Oh?” Angus said. “You saw that stone in the clearing,
didn’t you?”

“That bit that Ortis cleaned off? What of it?”

Angus shook his head. “No, the part I cleared. That inner
edge was too perfectly arced for it to be natural.”

“So,” Giorge said. “What of it?”

“Giorge,” Angus said, shaking his head. “There were two overlapping
circles on the map. That clearing was one of them, and the one with the well is
the other.”

Hobart frowned. “Maybe we should camp somewhere else?”

“Why bother?” Angus countered. “We’re going there, anyway. There
is shelter—a pair of high drifts that will serve as a good windbreak—and we can
cut blocks out of the drifts to stack on top of them if we need to.”

“We’ll need firewood,” Ortis said as he moved into the lead.

The others fell in behind them, and a few minutes later
Giorge said, “We’ll find the Eyes there.” He leaned forward in his saddle and fiddled
with the front of his tunic just above his breastbone, as if he were fondling
an amulet dangling from a chain around his neck and praying to its god for help.
“I can feel it.”

Angus moved in beside him and brought the magic into focus.
The ghostly green strand had deepened in color and was more intense than it had
been but a few minutes earlier. He sighed; it was growing stronger as they
neared the well. “Let me see it, Giorge,” he said.

“See what?” Giorge asked, his fingers tightening around the
front of his tunic.

“The Viper’s Breath,” Angus answered. “I’d like to see it.”

“No,” Giorge said.

“Giorge,” Angus demanded. “Show it to me. I already know
where it is.”

Ortis steered his horse around them, paused, turned, and
said, “We need to make camp. Can’t it wait?”

“It won’t take long,” Angus assured him.

“All right,” Ortis said, urging his horse forward.

Giorge slowed until Ortis was out of earshot, and then opened
his gray cloak and pulled down the collar of his tunic far enough for Angus to
see that the Viper’s Breath was lodged into his chest.

Angus frowned. What had the scroll said? The verse flashed
into his mind, and he read it to himself in the voice he’d been hearing in his
head for the past two days.

For you and the gem

are one and the same

and none but you

can shoulder the blame.

Then that voice cackled.

“When did that happen?” he asked.

Giorge shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t feel a
thing. When I woke up yesterday, it was just there. I tried to pry it off, but
it wouldn’t budge.”

Angus nodded and asked, “Why did you take it out of the
pouch?”

“I didn’t,” Giorge said. “It got out on its own.”

“Do you still have the pouch?” Angus asked.

“Sure,” Giorge said, reaching into his sling and tugging it
free. “I didn’t see any reason to discard it.”

“Let me have it,” Angus said. When Giorge handed it over, he
turned it inside out and put it on his hand like a glove. “Be still,” he said,
leaning over and reaching out for the Viper’s Breath. Giorge tensed but allowed
Angus to wrap the pouch and his fingers around the front of the stone. Angus
pulled gently, but nothing happen. He pulled more firmly, stopping only when
Giorge winced, but it clung to him as if it had fused to his breastbone.
Perhaps it had.

“See?” Giorge said, letting go of his tunic. “It won’t come
out.”

Angus nodded. Giorge had said it was
his
curse, and
now there was no question about it. But then he wondered if it could have
grafted to one of the others if they had found it. Possibly, but since Giorge
knew about Symptata, it was unlikely.

“Are you two coming?” Ortis called from well ahead of him.

“Go on ahead,” Angus called back. “We’ll catch up with you.”

Ortis turned and continued to the clearing.

“What is it, Angus?” Giorge asked. “You know something. I
can tell. Whenever you use magic, your eyes get this weird, distant look, like
you’re looking through me instead of at me.”

“There is a thread of magic emanating from the Viper’s
Breath. It is leading you to the Viper’s Eyes. Your sense of direction is much
stronger now than before because we’re much closer to it. But you’re not going
to like where they are.”

“Why not?” Giorge asked.

“They’re in the well,” he said. “I don’t know how far down,
but my guess is that they’re under the water. It won’t be simple to retrieve
them.”

“Ha!” Giorge grinned. “If it were easy, my ancestors would
have defeated this curse long ago.” Then he spurred his horse forward and trudged
along the trail plowed by the other horses.

Angus shook his head and slowly followed after him. Giorge
may be cavalier about the situation, but Angus knew it would pose considerable
difficulties. How would they get down into the well? How would they find where the
Viper’s Eyes were? Giorge could sense them and Angus could see where the magic
was leading him; one of them would have to go into the well to find out what
was down there. What if it was a trap? He shook his head. No, if the magic was
true to what he understood about it, then this one shouldn’t kill him outright.
Unless it froze him to death. The magic suggested something of that sort—frost,
snow, ice—and if Giorge were submerged in the ice-cold water for long, that
would be exactly what would happen to him. Or was there something else waiting
for him down there, something
worse
? Symptata seemed to enjoy inflicting
misery on his descendants, didn’t he? What could it be this time?

Angus shook his head again and rode a little faster. It
wouldn’t surprise him at all if Giorge tried to find the Eyes now, instead of
waiting until tomorrow….