Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [72]
The enchanted creature again hopped from foot to foot, clapping his hands together as he did so. "Yurz know all the secret places of the caves," the goblin said. "We close to Flying Bridge and then"-he lowered his voice-"we enter the tombs of the man-castle."
Taen relaxed even more at the fact that they were very close to their destination. Soon, he thought, they would finish what they came to do; then he and Marissa would have time to straighten out what lay between them. The half-elf stretched as he gazed down at the waters of the pool that steamed invitingly. He was about to suggest a relaxing swim when the half-elf caught sight of a ripple in the water's surface. Looking closer, he could see a large scaled form cutting through the depths of the pool.
Taen jumped to his feet. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to the form swimming beneath the surface.
The others came rushing over, all except Yurz. "Pretty Lady and friends not worry," the goblin said. "That just the water dragon. It not hurt you-unless you go for a swim."
The others soon returned to their packs, stowing gear and pulling out the hardened trail rations they had brought with them for their journey. Taen, however, didn't trust the creature that lurked within the hidden depths of the spring-fed pool. He watched the beast, unable to fall back into the relaxed mood he had just a few moments before. As the others ate and drank, exchanging stories and laughter in the wholly unexpected comfort of the cavern, Taen wondered what the renegade witch was doing at that moment.
A loud splash echoed through the cave as the water dragon dived into the black silence of the pool.
CHAPTER 19
The Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
The Old One sagged within his bonds.
More than a year of captivity, twisted and tortured by Yulda's arcane ministrations, had reduced the ancient wizard to an almost insubstantial physicality. He was nothing, a shadow, a burning ember of power wrapped in a decrepit and decaying body-which was just as she wanted it.
Yulda gestured and the shimmering funnel of energy that connected her to the dying wizard spun away into nothingness. Her body brimmed with arcane energy, stretched, it seemed, to its limits with the pulsing eldritch power that raced through her very veins. For a moment, she feared that she had taken too much, had sucked the Old One dry, reducing him to a powerless lump of flesh.
He stirred, however, moaning softly into the shadowy cavern, and her fears subsided. The old man couldn't hold out much longer. Despite what had seemed like an inexhaustible reservoir of arcane might, the Old One's strength had begun to fade. Yulda knew that she had been drawing too much power from the wizard, depleting his reserve too quickly, but it couldn't be helped. Her plans were moving forward, and she needed every ounce of eldritch might to keep her servants in line. Soon she would be able to rest, and the Old One would have a chance to regain the precious power that was all that kept his heart beating.
Soon.
But not now.
Another storm beat hard upon the rocks from which her demesne was forged. The wind moaned and shrieked with a bitter voice-one that she could hear even in the heart of the cavern. It mixed with the piteous sounds of the Old One as he wept and panted through his suffering.
"You… you," he said through great gasping breaths, "you shall never succeed with your plan. The very heart of the… the land rises up against… against you."
"Shut up, old man," Yulda spat back, tired of his endless prattling. "I have already succeeded. You and those blind crones are just too stupid to realize it."
The Old One began to laugh, a great wheezing gurgle of a sound that reminded the witch of someone drowning. "Even now," the wizard gasped between great bouts of laughter, "Rashemen moves against you. You will… will fall, and your name will be but a passing shadow, soon forgotten and never uttered on the… lips of future generations of