Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [75]
Though not completely blind, the world seemed dull and shadowy as she viewed it through small eyes that remained fixed above her jaws like tiny black seeds. She felt, rather than saw, the details of the world around her, separating and cataloging the thousands of minute scents in the cavern with a single flick of her forked tongue. Marissa searched the area around the bridge carefully, using her form's ability to distinguish changes in heat to see if anyone-or anything-lay in wait for them. Though she could sense a slight vibration in the heart of the ebony stone, the druid did not perceive any immediate threats.
Carefully, Marissa made her way back to her companions. The druid saw Yurz take a few steps back as she coiled herself up and with a single thought shifted forms.
"It looks as if we're safe," she said after a brief moment of disorientation.
"Good," Taenaran said, "then we should hurry. I doubt that our traitorous witch is in the citadel sitting on her thumbs."
* * * * *
Yulda gazed at the invaders from the shadows.
Hidden on a ledge high above the ebony bridge, she watched their slow progress. From the witch's vantage point, the intruders looked like nothing more than annoying insects, snow beetles creeping along an almost mindless path. Unlike the harmless beetles that infested the snow-peaked heights of Rashemen, however, the creatures below could sting-to deadly effect.
She hadn't been surprised to discover that a feckless goblin led them. Those weak-willed humanoids were always falling prey to the smallest enchantments. It did explain, however, how the invaders made it so swiftly to the underground entrance to her citadel.
Yulda would feel great satisfaction in watching her minions tear the goblin's disgusting head from its shoulders.
It was almost time. The foolish intruders had almost made it to the halfway point of the bridge. When they did, the witch would send a silent signal to Durakh and her forces. Not only would she have the satisfaction of destroying those who dared to move against her, she would also capture the artifact in their possession. Even from this distance, Yulda could sense its presence; it shone like a beacon in the darkness to her arcane senses, pulsing with immeasurable power. The witch had nearly fallen from her hiding place in shock when her eyes had confirmed what her heart had hoped for. The fools had walked into her demesne carrying nothing less than the Staff of the Red Tree.
With the Staff of the Red Tree at her side, she could tear the Urlingwood up by its roots and squash the pathetic wychlaran, who burrowed blindly like grubs beneath the forest's shadow. Corrupting the will of the Staff of the Red Tree would not be easy, but she would drain the last drops of life from her captive vremyonni to accomplish the task-and once done, she would never have to beg, cajole, or steal power from anyone else again.
The anticipation sent a pleasant tremor coursing through her body.
Cackling softly to herself, Yulda almost missed the moment when the intruders reached the appointed spot. Cursing her foolishness, the witch sent a telepathic command to Durakh, who lay in wait just behind the stone door to the undertomb on the other side of the bridge. The cleric's ogres would lead the charge, followed by her own arachnoid servants.
At that, shapes loomed out of the shadows around Yulda-wide-bodied, multi-legged monstrosities whose mandibles clacked together hungrily.
"Yes, my pretties," she cooed softly to the giant spiders, "it is time."
With a single command, she sent the monstrous arachnids scurrying down their thick, silken strands of web. The creatures' eyes caught and reflected the light from below, gleaming as they descended toward their prey.