Read Online Hell Hath No Fury by David Weber, Linda Evans - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Weber, Linda Evans
Ads: Link
casual.
Whatever Arthag wanted to do, he had to wait. Wait until Narshu gave him something more concrete than the warning of his Talent. Despite his and chan Baskay's suspicions, Narshu-like Skirvon and Dastiri-was part of a diplomatic mission. As such, their persons were inviolable, protected by their diplomat status until and unless their actions, not their intentions, changed that status.
Which hadn't prevented Arthag from briefing his own people about his suspicions. Or from leaving the retaining strap of his holster unbuttoned this morning.
The daggerstone slid cleanly out of the concealing compartment in Narshu's belt.
It didn't look particularly threatening to the naked eye. Aside from the peculiar, glassy sheen of sarkolis, it could have been a quarter-inch thick oval of natural quartz just under two inches across at its widest point. Only someone with at least a trace of a Gift could have used it, and anyone else with a trace of a Gift would have seen something quite different from a hunk of stone. Those were, of course, two of the reasons at least some Gift was required for anyone to qualify for SpecOp duty in the first place. Any Gifted observerwould have seen exactly what Narshu saw-the nimbus of energy glowing around it, reaching out to envelop his hand and forearm-and, if his Gift had been properly trained (like Narshu's), he would have been able to sense the lethality of that energy, as well.
But no Sharonian had that Gift, or that training.
Narshu's hand rose smoothly, without haste, as his thumb nestled into the slight hollow in the daggerstone's upper surface. It rose just high enough to bear on Petty-Captain Rokam Traygan, and Narshu released the first spell charge.
Brilliant, stunning light flashed across the conference table in a solid bar of lightning. The lightning spell was almost silent, compared to the thunderclap a fireball spell would have produced, but it hammered into Traygan with brutal force, and the Voice flew backward, outlined in a dazzling corona of energy, until he slammed into the trunk of a tree ten feet behind him. He hit with bone-shattering force, but it scarcely mattered; he was dead before he smashed into it.
Two more of Arthag's troopers were caught in the fringes of the spell, and both of them were just as dead as Traygan before they hit the ground. Chan Baskay was just far enough away to be unharmed, but the near-silent concussion of arcane energy sweeping out from the spell's impact point was like being hit with a club.
Rithmar Skirvon was almost as stunned as chan Baskay. Unlike the Ternathian, he'd known what was coming, but the actual moment had managed to surprise him, as well. He jerked back from the conference table as the spell's violence hit him in the face like fist. Although the plan had been at least partly his own, it was the first time he'd ever even seen a combat spell used, far less been this close to its point of impact. He'd tried to prepare himself ahead of time for what it would be like, but he'd failed.
Had his brain been up to the task, he would have been astounded by how quiet it was. Surely nothing that violent, that powerful, could make so little noise! "Quiet" wasn't the same thing as "gentle," however
– not by a long shot-and his ears rang, his eyes watered, and he felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Yet even so, he knew the most critical part of the mission had succeeded perfectly. They'd managed to identify Simrath's "Voice," and Neshok's eavesdropping recon crystals had overheard enough conversations at the swamp portal to know that the dark-skinned Traygan was the only Voice Simrath and chan Tesh had between them. Which meant there was no way now for chan Tesh-or Simrath-to warn anyone else of what was about to happen.
Tharian Narshu felt an intense satisfaction as his target went down. Later, he knew, it might be different.
The only difference between this and an act of murder, after all, was that he'd been ordered to
Whatever Arthag wanted to do, he had to wait. Wait until Narshu gave him something more concrete than the warning of his Talent. Despite his and chan Baskay's suspicions, Narshu-like Skirvon and Dastiri-was part of a diplomatic mission. As such, their persons were inviolable, protected by their diplomat status until and unless their actions, not their intentions, changed that status.
Which hadn't prevented Arthag from briefing his own people about his suspicions. Or from leaving the retaining strap of his holster unbuttoned this morning.
The daggerstone slid cleanly out of the concealing compartment in Narshu's belt.
It didn't look particularly threatening to the naked eye. Aside from the peculiar, glassy sheen of sarkolis, it could have been a quarter-inch thick oval of natural quartz just under two inches across at its widest point. Only someone with at least a trace of a Gift could have used it, and anyone else with a trace of a Gift would have seen something quite different from a hunk of stone. Those were, of course, two of the reasons at least some Gift was required for anyone to qualify for SpecOp duty in the first place. Any Gifted observerwould have seen exactly what Narshu saw-the nimbus of energy glowing around it, reaching out to envelop his hand and forearm-and, if his Gift had been properly trained (like Narshu's), he would have been able to sense the lethality of that energy, as well.
But no Sharonian had that Gift, or that training.
Narshu's hand rose smoothly, without haste, as his thumb nestled into the slight hollow in the daggerstone's upper surface. It rose just high enough to bear on Petty-Captain Rokam Traygan, and Narshu released the first spell charge.
Brilliant, stunning light flashed across the conference table in a solid bar of lightning. The lightning spell was almost silent, compared to the thunderclap a fireball spell would have produced, but it hammered into Traygan with brutal force, and the Voice flew backward, outlined in a dazzling corona of energy, until he slammed into the trunk of a tree ten feet behind him. He hit with bone-shattering force, but it scarcely mattered; he was dead before he smashed into it.
Two more of Arthag's troopers were caught in the fringes of the spell, and both of them were just as dead as Traygan before they hit the ground. Chan Baskay was just far enough away to be unharmed, but the near-silent concussion of arcane energy sweeping out from the spell's impact point was like being hit with a club.
Rithmar Skirvon was almost as stunned as chan Baskay. Unlike the Ternathian, he'd known what was coming, but the actual moment had managed to surprise him, as well. He jerked back from the conference table as the spell's violence hit him in the face like fist. Although the plan had been at least partly his own, it was the first time he'd ever even seen a combat spell used, far less been this close to its point of impact. He'd tried to prepare himself ahead of time for what it would be like, but he'd failed.
Had his brain been up to the task, he would have been astounded by how quiet it was. Surely nothing that violent, that powerful, could make so little noise! "Quiet" wasn't the same thing as "gentle," however
– not by a long shot-and his ears rang, his eyes watered, and he felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Yet even so, he knew the most critical part of the mission had succeeded perfectly. They'd managed to identify Simrath's "Voice," and Neshok's eavesdropping recon crystals had overheard enough conversations at the swamp portal to know that the dark-skinned Traygan was the only Voice Simrath and chan Tesh had between them. Which meant there was no way now for chan Tesh-or Simrath-to warn anyone else of what was about to happen.
Tharian Narshu felt an intense satisfaction as his target went down. Later, he knew, it might be different.
The only difference between this and an act of murder, after all, was that he'd been ordered to
Similar Books
