Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [38]
Delg let her laugh until she reached the helpless whooping stage, then sighed, reached out one hairy hand to the front of her tunic, and pulled.
Shandril was dragged bodily up from where she lay slumped against a tree, pillowed on clumps of moss Narm had torn up and arranged for her the night before. They had left the scorched ruin of battle behind and stumbled into the night-the morning, rather-for a good long time before collapsing in a damp hollow, somewhere very dark and near the ever-chuckling sound of running water.
Shandril was a little unsteady on her feet, and the morning-even here, in the dappled shade of the trees seemed very bright. DeIg was glaring up at her, his hand on her arm.
"Can you walk?" he demanded gruffly. "Speak, lass! I need to know you've still got all your wits after last night."
"I-I think so," she managed before Narm approached. Her husband bowed, reached a hand toward her as a lord grandly leads his lady into a dance-and in his empty palm a dozen roses appeared.
Shandril gasped in surprise, and he put them in her arms with an air of triumph. Their sweet fragrance swirled around her, and she smiled as she felt the magic that formed them surging into her, making spellfire waken and flow. The roses glowed for a moment and then, with the sound of many tiny bells, faded away and were gone.
Shandril stared at her empty arms a little sadly. "My only regret, love, is that they're gone if I drain them," she said, eyes brimming.
Narm shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to go on studying that spell until I get it right."
"Get it right?" Delg's voice was rough with derision. "Gods, but now I know how wizards get all the lasses… he muttered in a low aside that could be heard at least a hundred trees away.
"Yes," Narm replied with a smile. "I managed the 'no thorns' bit, but the color…"
The dwarf squinted at him. "They were red!"
Narm smiled. "I was trying for blue." Shandril laughed delightedly, and drew his face down to hers.
His arms were strong and eager, his mouth sweet-and as they embraced, Shandril heard a loud, hawking sound. Delg, standing just behind them, spat far off into the trees in disgust, startling something small into scuttling flight through the fallen forest leaves.
"There'll be time enough for that sort o' thing later, when we're well away from here," the dwarf growled. "One Zhent band found us, and others may know we're here now, but they're all sure to find us if we stay here, right at the end of the trail we left crashing through things in the dark last night while the two of you cuddle and kiss and whisper sweet secrets. Come on!"
Narm lifted his head. "Sorry, Delg. We're-we're with you." And they stepped out amid ferns and tree roots to begin another long march through the dim depths of the endless wood.
"We've got to move far today," the dwarf said, "and not be found by anyone or anything. With no spellfire and your best spells gone, lad, we can't risk any fights. Since your lady's got such a dainty stomach of mornings, I suggest we do without eating until around highsun… but drink deep at this stream and fill all our skins while I keep watch."
Narm and Shandril drank, washed, filled their skins, and went off into the bushes. The dwarf meanwhile kept alert, axe in hand as he trotted around, peering suspiciously into the trees.
Shandril took off the spare robe Narm had lent her last night. A few blackened scraps-all that was left of her own clothes-still clung to her here and there. She brushed them off, sighing, and rummaged in her ever lighter pack.
When she swung the pack onto her shoulder, she was wearing her last intact clothes, inherited when she joined the Company of the Bright Spear-the much patched homespun tunic and breeches of a down-on his-luck thief. That bold first step into adventure seemed a long time ago now.
"Why so tense?" Narm asked, coming up beside Delg. "I haven't seen any Zhents about-and I've looked as far off as I can, too."
"Eyes, lad," the dwarf growled up at him. "I can feel them, every moment. We're being watched,