Azure bonds - Kate Novak [117]
The lizard moved back toward the torn wing, grabbed a handful of it on both sides of the tear, and pulled it toward him like a seaman about to mend sailcloth. He ran his fingers along the tear, and the torn webbing began to mesh. A faint, yellow glow emanated from the wound as it healed. Olive caught the scent of woodsmoke. Dragonbait restored about half the damage along the trailing edge of the wing, leaving a few spotty holes.
"Thank you," Mist sighed without lifting her head, obviously relieved of some pain.
Ruskettle looked at the lizard in confusion. "How did you do that?" she demanded. "Where is Alias? And who are you, anyway?"
Dragonbait jerked his head from Mist to Olive. Mist appeared to concentrate on the small lizard for a few moments and then began to "translate" his silence. As the dragon spoke for the opponent who had defeated her in combat, Olive's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
"I don't believe you," she told Mist. "You're making this all up. It's impossible!"
"No one could make up so improbable a tale," Mist sniffed. "Not even you, bard."
Olive fixed her attention on Dragonbait. The lizard was already gathering the party's belongings that were still salvageable from the destruction Mist had wreaked on them.
Olive planted herself firmly before him and demanded to know. "It's not true what she said, is it? You can't be what she said. You're a lizard!"
Dragonbait looked down at the halfling without expression, holding her eyes with his own unblinking ones. Olive grew nervous beneath his gaze because she realized Mist had told her the truth. He really was one of them. Though he hadn't seemed like one of them before, there was no other explanation for all his actions.
"It's true." she squeaked.
Dragonbait nodded.
Boogers! Olive swore silently. How do I get into these messes? More importantly, how do I get out of this one?
21
Moander's Puppet and Mist's Pursuit
Alias stirred beneath the moss-stained roots, and her mind crawled back from the lands of darkness. She twisted once, then again, straining against her bonds.
She recalled the passage through the wall of enchanted masonry. It had felt like an immersion in a cold mountain lake, chilling her skin and knocking the wind out of her. When she had finally gasped for air, there was a spongy mat against her face-a fragrant glove of pungent, vegetable smells which had reminded Alias of mushrooms in butter sauce gone bad in the summer heat.
And then she knew nothing. It was like the dark emptiness that preceded her appearance at The Hidden Lady.
When Alias awoke, the exposed portions of her skin were chilled and slightly wet from the fog. She had no idea how long she had slept, or what had happened while she did, but her adventures in Cormyr and Shadow Gap, and the conversations at Shadowdale, all remained crisp and clear in her memory. If anything, they felt more real than the adventures she'd experienced before she had received the deadly, cursed tattoo.
Finally, she opened her eyes to glare at the curse scrawled across her arm, only to find it trapped in a blanket of green fibers. She tried to shake loose, but her arm was held fast. She tried to move her left arm, but that limb was also pinned down by the same sort of damp, slimy blanket.
Alias tried kicking. Her legs were trapped, too. She wriggled and thrashed and bucked, but a wet root, as thick as her arm, held her to the ground. Whenever she moved, the tendrils moved with her. She sensed one of the bonds tearing, but new shoots sprouted immediately to replace it.
Frustrated, she looked around. She lay on an odd collection of garbage, bog peat, sickly green vines, and large moldy roots. At the edge of her vision she spotted something clean and white jutting out from the greenery. Alias recognized it as a human bone.
She felt the pile of boggy vegetation shift as though it were moving on a great wagon. She was lying on a ledge at the leading edge of the pile, about fifteen feet from the ground, but she could see no horses or oxen ahead.
A pile of