Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [64]
"Try as you might, Taenaran," the druid said with a wink, "you can't get rid of us that easily."
Laughter rose up in him at that, and he groaned as it aggravated his wounds. Though they had removed the barbed stinger from his chest, it still ached fiercely. Carefully, they helped him to his feet, and together they explored the rest of their surroundings.
The cavern itself stretched its rounded expanse in all directions. Stalactites hung unevenly from the ceiling, their jagged lengths resembling giant, twisted teeth. The surface of the dull gray stone that made up the majority of the cavern ran unevenly-forming deep ridges that often flowed back into themselves.
"Well," Roberc asked as he peered through the shadows at the cave wall, "where have we gotten ourselves this time?"
Taen grunted at the question. Clearly they had stumbled into the wyverns' lair, that much was certain from the stench of rotting meat and the pile of splintered bones tossed around the cavern, but where exactly that might be was anybody's guess.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Something-or someone- interfered with the teleport spell."
"Then we could be anywhere," Marissa said. "There's no telling how far away we are from Citadel Rashemar." She sat down on a small outcropping of stone.
"Do not worry, little friends," Borovazk said, his voice echoing in the vast cavern. "We are not too far from the citadel."
"How do you know?" Taen asked the ranger. Perhaps there was hope for their quest after all.
"Listen," the ranger said, pointing his finger up toward the ceiling. "Do you hear that? Is the prydvya, the singing wind. It only blows that hard in the highest places of the Sunrise Mountains. Citadel Rashemar must be close."
Taen cocked his head and listened. Indeed, he could hear a high-pitched wail coming distantly from beyond the walls of the cavern. The wind's sharp wailing would need to be very strong for them to hear it deep within the cavern.
Something else registered in his sensitive half-elf ears as he listened to the shrieking of the wind-the sound of something, or someone, scurrying across rock. If he strained, he could also hear the creature's snuffling inhalations. It grew louder as he listened.
"We have company," Taen whispered softly, not wishing to alert whatever was drawing near them.
"I heard it too," Roberc whispered back. He quietly spoke a command to Cavan.
The animal cocked its head once then silently padded off into the darkness. Within moments, a high-pitched shriek filled the cavern, followed by the familiar low warning growl of the war-dog.
Taen and the others ran toward the sound, weapons already drawn to face whatever threat Cavan had uncovered. When they arrived, their light revealed the war-dog's powerful jaws clamped around the muddy wool cloak of an orange-skinned humanoid. The creature's wide mouth hung open, revealing a set of small, sharp fangs, and its deep-set eyes whirled and gleamed a sickly yellow in the arcane light. It gibbered and cried out in a harsh language that sounded to Taen like the retching and hacking of a plague-wracked human as it caught sight of the assembled companions.
"Goblin," Roberc said with obvious disgust. "They're like rodents. If you see one, there's bound to be more hiding under rocks nearby."
He then spat a series of unintelligible words at the frightened creature in what Taen reasoned must have been its own tongue. The goblin fell silent at the sound of its language streaming forth from the halfling's mouth.
Watching it cringe and cower at their presence, the half-elf felt a