"You would do well to fear it." Lucretius's smile was savage. "Tis a corrosive elixir that burns whatever it touches, including skin and eyes, Hellhound."
"He's right, my lord." Dalian took a step forward. He stared at the vial in Lucretius's hand. "Tis a mixture that he concocted when he tried to create gold from base metals. It burns like fire."
Lucretius laughed softly. "Listen to the boy, Hellhound. Or risk your eyes. What good is a blind hound?"
"Gareth, I believe that he speaks the truth," Clare said. "Do not get close to him."
"He does speak the truth," Dalian insisted. "Have a care, my lord."
Clare did not take her eyes off Lucretius. "Why did you kill the recluse?"
Lucretius shrugged. "The foolish old woman saw me. She believed me to be the ghost of Brother Bartholomew come to search for his lost Sister Maud. But for some reason she felt she had to prove the point."
"She followed you to the convent library and you killed her," Clare whispered.
"I wanted to see if you had stored your father's books in the convent library before I went to the trouble of trying to find it in your hall. It would have been so much simpler if you had handed it over to the nuns, Clare."
"They were not interested in it," Clare said. "So I kept it."
"Idiots." Lucretius glanced at the book lying near the pouch. "The greatest secrets of the ancients are in that volume. Your father found them in the Arabic treatises that he translated. Mayhap the very secret of immortality is in there."
"Do you intend to leave the isle without your precious book, magician?"
Gareth prodded the volume with the toe of his boot.
"It appears that I shall be forced to leave it behind today, but you may be certain that I shall return for it." Lucretius smiled his cold, dazzling smile once more. "And you will never know when or where I shall next appear. The knowledge will no doubt keep you awake at night, eh, Hellhound?"
"I stopped you this time, did I not? I can do it again, if need be."
"Bah! You were fortunate this time, that is all. Next time, things will be different."
"Leave, then, if that is your intent. Take your foul elixir and get off this isle."
"As you wish, Hellhound. But first I will leave you something by which you shall always remember me." Lucretius hurled the vial, straight at Gareth's face.
"No," Dalian yelled. He leaped to intercept the vial, reaching for it with his bare hands.
"Dalian," Clare shouted.
Gareth did not even think about his reaction. It was instantaneous, the sort of quick, physical response that had saved his life on countless occasions.
With one hand he grabbed Dalian and yanked him out of the way. With the other he brought his sword up in a swift, short arc. He caught the vial on the flat of the blade.
Gareth used the momentum of the swing to propel the small jar off to the side. It struck a rock and shattered. There was a soft hissing sound.
"Dear God," Clare breathed. "It is eating away at the rock."
"You have the devil's own luck, Hellhound." Lucretius raced toward the cliff path. "But it cannot last forever."
"There is no boat waiting for you down in the cove, magician," Gareth said softly. "My men discovered it a short while ago."
"Nay, that cannot be." Lucretius's cloak whipped around him as he halted at the top of the cliff path. "You He. I discovered those caves. No one knows about the cliff caves."
Gareth smiled. "You do not know much about young boys. They are insatiably curious. William found the caves long ago."
"Damn you, Hellhound." Lucretius lunged toward him, sword raised.
Gareth met the rush easily. Steel clashed against steel. Lucretius leaped back out of reach, feinted, and closed once more.
The magician was good, Gareth conceded privately as the two men circled each other. He was both fast and clever. Lucretius might make a show of disdaining the fighting arts in favor of magic, but it was obvious he had a talent for swordplay.
Conscious of the sheer drop at the edge of the cliff, Gareth maneuvered to ensure that it was Lucretius's back that was to the sea, not his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clare drag Dalian out of harm's way.
Lucretius attempted another rushing charge. Gareth sidestepped it.
The magician swung around and this time Gareth found himself in the position he had wished to avoid. His back was to the cliffs.
Lucretius closed again, sword glinting dully in the gray light. Gareth felt the ground give way beneath his left boot heel. The edge of the cliff began to crumble beneath him. The waves below were very loud.
With all of his strength, he dove forward, headfirst, in an attempt to dive beneath the thrust of Lucretius's steel.
Lucretius was already committed to the blow. His face contorted with rage as Gareth slid in low, just beneath the blade, hit the ground with his shoulder, and rolled.
"Die, Hellhound." Lucretius swung around as Gareth surged to his feet.
Die, damn you."
Gareth saw the opening and moved in, sword ready. Lucretius could not get his own blade up swiftly enough to effectively parry the blow.
But even as Gareth went in for the kill, Lucretius screamed and dropped his sword. He flailed wildly as the ground gave way beneath his feet.
"No," Lucretius yelled. "No, it cannot happen like this. I'm a magician."
Gareth caught himself and stepped swiftly back from the disintegrating cliff edge.
Lucretius pitched backward into the gray nothingness that waited for him. His scream rent the air for endless seconds and then it abruptly ceased.
In the great silence that followed, Gareth met Clare's eyes.
"Gareth." She ran toward him and threw herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. "You are safe."
"Aye." Gareth looked over the top of her head at Dalian, who was staring at the place where Lucretius had last been seen.
"Do you think he is truly dead, my lord?' Dalian asked in a strange voice.
"Aye. You and I shall go down to the cove together. Be assured that we will find his body lying on the rocks. He was only a man, after all."
"A terrible man," Clare said distinctly from the circle of Gareth's arm.
"Not at all a good recipe for a husband."
Clare had still not recovered from the shock of the day's events by the time she and Gareth retired to their bedchamber that evening.
On the surface, all had returned to normal. Ranulf had been found, alive but unconscious, in the watchtower. He had soon recovered from the blow to his head, but, Clare suspected his pride would take longer to heal.
Lucretius's body had been retrieved from the cove. The four black-cloaked knights that had survived the conflict and the three hapless bowmen were securely locked up in a storage cellar beneath the hall.
Joanna had recovered from her faint, hugged William until he pleaded with her to cease, and then thrown herself straight into Ulrich's arms.
The village was abuzz with excitement as neighbor retold the tale to neighbor. With each telling, the exploits of the Hellhound grew more impressive. Clare knew that her people were taking a great deal of pride in the fact that their lord had proven himself more powerful than any magician.
There had been much merriment and jubilation among Gareth's men at supper. Cook had produced an elaborate array of dishes to celebrate the events. The servants had talked and jested with the men-at-arms.
Dalian had contributed to the air of celebration by singing a thrilling ballad narrating the rescue of Desire. He had composed it in less than two hours and everyone was extremely admiring of his talents.
Clare had managed to maintain a reasonably serene facade as the courtyard was cleaned and all was set to rights. But it was only a facade. She had not been able to eat a thing at the evening meal.