Cloak of Shadows - Ed Greenwood [63]
"Be not afraid," Sylune said softly, as if reading her mind. "Just go well out into that meadow, there, and touch the ring with your free hand."
Sharantyr looked ahead at the moonlit clearing and then back at the ghostly face beside her. "Will I see you- and Belk and Itharr-again?" she asked.
Sylune smiled. "Of course. We all need to get a lot more work out of you yet."
Shar made a face. "Of course," she replied, a grin playing about her lips. "Silly of me…"
" 'Twas, yes."
Shar shook her head at that, lifted her hand in salute-Sylune returned it-and walked away into the meadow. The moonlight was bright on the grass, and the night was very beautiful. Shar looked around at it, drew a deep breath, and smiled. Some folk never get to see this.
Sylune's voice came to her, as if borne on an unseen wind. "Plant your blade in the ground before you touch the ring. Don't take it with you."
She found a spot she liked and stopped, planting her booted feet firmly. Then she looked back over her shoulder.
Sylune was still standing there, a frozen flame floating in the nightdark under the trees.
Shar took another deep breath, thrust her sword upright into the turf, watched moonlight gleam down its length-and laid her fingers over the ring.
There was a wink, and the world changed. She was standing in a smaller, darker glade, dim blue moonlight filtering down to her through the tangles and mossy boughs of huge, gnarled trees much older than the woods she'd left in Daggerdale. It smelled… like the Elven Court woods, near Myth Drannor.
She looked around, not moving. Mosses glowed eerily here and there, and the trees stretched away into utter darkness all around. She was in the heart of a large forest.
Something winked, softly, between two trees. She stared at it, shifting slightly to get a better view, and obligingly it drifted nearer, sparkling as it came.
A will o' wisp, beautiful but deadly. Her hand went to her empty scabbard and then drew back. She hadn't a hope, even with her sword. Scrabbling after daggers and boot-knives just didn't seem worthwhile. She hoped Sylune hadn't made a mistake, and that her awakener had been Sylune. Could a Malaugrym take a ghost shape?
Why not?
Too late to wonder now. The will o' wisp, blue-white and awesomely beautiful, shone like a little star in front of her. "Take out thy dagger," it said, in soft, feminine tones.
Shar stared at it for a moment and then did so, never taking her eyes from the floating sphere of light.
"Follow," it said softly, and retreated across the clearing the way it had come. Shar did so, casting a quick glance around as she crossed the damp, fern-studded ground. There was no sign of other life.
The wisp was hovering above a tangle of brambles. "Cut away enough to pass," it told her, "and go down."
"Go down?" Shar asked, but there was no reply. She went to her knees and sawed at the thorny branches obediently, laying them aside in a neat pile as she cut herself a tunnel. Beyond, there seemed to be an emptiness in the gloom. Before Shar could will her enchanted dagger to glow and give her light to see by, the wisp drifted silently over her shoulder. Its radiance showed her a hole in the ground, half-covered with fern root creepers. She drew them aside and stared at worn stone steps and darkness beyond.
Shar wiped her dagger on her thigh and sheathed it- the wisp bobbed approvingly-and put her legs forward, onto the steps.
Then, cautiously, she shifted forward, holding on to the edges of the hole, and began to descend. The wisp drifted past to hang just in front of her, lighting her way down those old stone steps… down a dozen feet and more, then turning to the right-to avoid the roots of a huge duskwood she'd seen, Shar judged-and plunging down more steeply, another eight steps, before opening out into a damp,