Bladesinger - Keith Francis Strohm [86]
"What's the matter, Borovazk," the halfling asked, "besides the fact that we're trapped in an undead-infested tomb trying to rescue Marissa from the clutches of a powerful hag?"
Taen found his temper rising as the halfling's acerbic comments filled the silence of the room. Fatigue won out over anger, however, so the half-elf bit his tongue, grasping the hilt of his sword as he did so and cursing the necessity for rest that caused them delay. Besides, he knew that Roberc would fight through every layer of the Abyss to rescue Marissa.
For his part, Borovazk ran a meaty hand through his sweat-soaked hair before answering the halfling. When he did finally speak, his usually resonant voice barely filled the chamber. "This is great resting place of heroes," the ranger said hoarsely, pointing to the walls of the crypt and beyond. "Borovazk feel sad to fight Rashemi whose bodies have been corrupted by the foul work of the hag and her witch ally. Is not right. The dead deserve honor." This last he nearly shouted.
Taen looked up and cast a measuring glance at the ranger. The skin beneath Borovazk's eyes sagged, bruised and nearly black with fatigue. The human's normally irrepressible smile had faded-when that had happened, Taen hadn't noticed-replaced now by a wide-mouthed frown. Dried blood and thick black patches of congealed slime marred the normally pale hue of his face.
At that moment, the half-elf realized that he wasn't the only one who blamed himself for Marissa's capture. Both Borovazk and Roberc held a haunted look in their eyes and a grim cast to their features. That fact unaccountably lightened his own heart, and he recalled something that his father used to say: "A burden shared is a burden lightened." He was so caught up in his own misery that he hadn't realized how deeply his companions grieved for Marissa. The half-elf began to understand-in the way that one does when light first shines in a dark place-that perhaps this was the root cause of much of his problems: he was always focused inward on himself, on his own guilt and misery.
"Don't worry, Borovazk," he said at last, resting a hand upon the ranger's shoulders. "We will find Marissa, and when we do, we shall make the witch and her hag minion pay for what they have done here."
Borovazk looked Taen in the eye, and the half-elf could see the Rashemi's desire for that revenge. "Is good to hear, little friend," the ranger responded. "Borovazk think that he is done with this little adventure soon, and he will be glad of it."
A shriek erupted from a shadowy corner of the crypt, followed by the sound of Yurz's cackling laughter. "Me find it!" the goblin proclaimed loudly. "Come, friends of Pretty Lady! Yurz find the door. We not far now!"
For what seemed like the first time in quite a while, a smile split the grim terrain of Taen's face. "Perhaps," he said to Borovazk, "our adventure will end sooner than we had hoped!"
With a grunt and a sigh of effort, the half-elf pulled himself to his feet, gathered up his gear, and strode toward the now-open secret door. Without a second thought, he walked through it.
CHAPTER 23
The Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
Marissa breathed fire.
It seared her lungs; her chest burned with each labored inhalation. The druid struggled once more against the bonds that held her, but the steel chains just cut deeper into the skin of her wrist with each movement. The room was dark-it was always dark, except when the hag came. Shadow and flame