Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [50]
The others looked up. Sure enough, the ball of magical light Morhion had conjured was beginning to flicker. The shadows on the wall were growing dim. Already some of the gibberlings were creeping back out of their hiding places, eyeing the receding shadows warily as they edged toward the companions. Soon there would be nothing to hold back the horde.
"Hurry, Morhion," Mari said. "You've got to cast the light spell again."
"And I presume you're going to rewrite the rules of magic so 1 can do this?" he replied acidly. "Once a mage has cast a spell, he cannot cast it again until he has relearned the incantation. And something tells me I don't have the time."
The globe of light flickered alarmingly. The shadows were barely visible on the wall now. More gibberlings crept from their holes and crevices, then still more. With grim expressions, the humans backed slowly toward the edge of the precipice, weapons raised. The drooling horde closed in.
Kellen lowered his flute. "There goes the light!" he cried.
Above them, the glowing sphere flickered erratically. In seconds the spell would expire. It was hopeless.
Or was it? Morhion sheathed his knife and drew out thee scroll he had found. He didn't know exactly what the spell did-that would take hours of study to learn-but he had a hunch.
"Everybody, sheathe your weapons and hold on to me!" he shouted.
The others just stared at him.
"Do it!" he commanded fiercely.
Startled, they did as they were told. Morhion wasted no time. He lifted the scroll and began to read the arcane incantation in the fading light. Just as he was speaking the final words, the hovering sphere of magical light vanished in a puff of smoke, plunging the cavern into darkness.
Chittering with glee, the gibberlings rushed forward, ready to gobble up their prey.
"Now jump!" Morhion cried.
He leapt backward off the cliff. The others were too surprised to stop him. Clutching the mage, they toppled over the precipice with him, screaming as they plummeted into the darkness below. Above, the thwarted gibberlings howled in dismay.
It will be now or never, Morhion thought in panic.
For a split second, as they fell through the chill dark, speeding toward a bloody death on sharp stones below, it seemed as if they would all die. Suddenly, the scroll in Morhion's hand burst into flame and was consumed as the magic of the spell was released. A heartbeat later, the five reached the bottom of the chasm. However, instead of being dashed upon jagged stone teeth, they found themselves cushioned by a blast of warm air that came from nowhere. The gust of air dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, lowering the five safely-if not gently-to the hard ground.
Slowly, Morhion got to his feet, smiling. His hunch had proved right.
Dazed, the others pulled themselves to their feet, blinking as their eyes adjusted once more to the dim green phosphorescence that filled the cavern, trying to understand what had happened.
A dark shape dropped down from on high, striking the bottom of the defile with a loud plop! Moments later, another shape fell from above, and then another, all landing disconcertingly close to the companions.
"It's the gibberlings," Mari breathed in amazement. "They're jumping after us!"
"Remarkable," Cormik muttered in awe. "They're even more stupid than I thought."
In seconds, it was raining gibberlings. The creatures shrieked and snarled as they fell, striking the ground with wet thuds and dying instantly. Dodging the deadly rain of doomed gibberlings, the five picked their way along the bottom of the chasm.
At last they left the grisly cascade of furry creatures behind. Before long, Jewel caught a faint whiff of fresh air. They ducked into a side tunnel and soon stumbled out of the granite hill and into the night. The storm had ended; now tatters of clouds raced across a moonlit sky. The companions leaned against the rain-slick rocks, catching their breath.
"You know, Jewel," Cormik grumbled, "that was without doubt the worst campsite at which I