Read Lynn Viehl - [Darkyn 08 - Lords of the Darkyn 01] for Free Online

contact one of them, and I will—”
    “You will do as I tell you, Captain,” Richard told him flatly. “When you reach France, you are to travel alone and only by land. Once you are in possession of the scroll, you are to return directly to the island in the same fashion. That is all.”
    With all his heart Korvel wanted to know his master’s reasons for such odd and specific instructions, but the high lord did not take kindly to being questioned, even by those he most trusted. “As you command, my lord.” He bowed low and turned to leave.
    “Korvel.” Richard waited until he faced him again before he said, “The Scroll of Falkonera is a priceless treasure, forged from solid gold. That is not why our enemies are trying to steal it.”
    He waited, but his master offered nothing more, so he had to choose his next words carefully. “Then perhaps I should know what value it has to them, my lord, that I may properly safeguard it.”
    Richard inclined his head. “The scroll contains the writings of an alchemist of the first century, one who discovered the formula that bestowed immortality on a mortal. To protect the secret, the smith who forged it also placed a curse upon the scroll. Any unworthy human who touches it will die an agonizing death.”
    Most of the alchemists who had lived during Korvel’s human lifetime had been practiced charlatans; most had wrapped themselves in secrecy and mystique to make their doubtful art seem more legitimate. “You do not believe in curses, my lord.”
    “All that concerns me is how the scroll may be used against us,” Richard said. “Under no circumstances are you to permit it to fall into the hands of any mortal, friend or enemy. Is that understood?”
    Korvel nodded and bowed again before leaving to make the arrangements for his journey, which now was coming to an abrupt end, thanks to a tractor-trailer that effectively blocked the entire road.
    After he pulled over for the second time, Korvel parked the Audi and climbed out to inspect the disabled vehicle. Although crates of loudly squawking chickens and geese crowded the open-sided back of the trailer, the cab proved to be empty.
    Once he had searched in vain for the keys, Korvel glanced over at the horizon. The hot orange crescent of sun blazed in the east; he slid on a pair of sunglasses designed to block most of its rays that would otherwise irritate his light-sensitive eyes. He could do nothing about the dawn or the weariness it inflicted on him except bear it. Fortunately a check of the GPS, which had decided to function again, showed him to be less than a mile from the château.
    He had brought only one case with him for his garments, which he would not need until he returned to Paris. His two-handed broadsword and the other weapons he always traveled with lay inside the boot. He had not anticipated arriving at the château on foot; nor did he know whether he would encounter anyone along the way. Arming himself was second nature, but the sight of his sword would definitely alarm the resident mortals, and might result in alerting the enemy to his presence. He settled on taking just two daggers with forearm sheaths, which the sleeves of his coat completely concealed, before he started off toward the château.
    Once Korvel squeezed past the back end of the trailer, he saw the road branch off in two directions, one toward the distant blur of Garbia and the other curving around into the heavily wooded hills. Small but plainly lettered signs that read Propriété Privée had been nailed to the trunks of the outermost trees. By the time he had walked half a kilometer the road virtually disappeared from sight, obscured by massive silver-trunked trees with twisting, riotous branches that formed an effective natural barrier.
    Korvel smelled wood smoke tinged with the sweet-tea scent of sycamore, but the leafy canopy barred his view of the sky, so he couldn’t see from which direction it came. He stopped and listened for