Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [61]
Whatever power had compelled him to climb the pyramid seemed to have no influence here. He was back to normal, as dazed as the rest. Cormik began issuing orders. "Jewel, examine that opening in the far wall and see if there's some way out of here. Kellen, please assist her. You have smaller hands may be able to reach things she cannot. Mari, we're going to need more light-can you do something about that? I'll see to Morhion." The mage had not stirred. He lay on the ground, unmoving, his skin like alabaster against the black marble floor. The wound on his forehead had blossomed into a grisly crimson flower. Numbly, Mari set to her task. She rummaged in her pockets until she found a stump of candle, flint, and tinder. Creating fire was no simple feat. She struck the flint repeatedly against the edge of her steel eating knife. After many failed attempts, a glowing spark landed directly on the tinder. Quickly, she blew on the bit of fluff. There was a wisp of smoke, and suddenly a bright flame curled out of the tinder. She held the candle's wick to the flame. The candle caught, golden light filling the dark sphere. Mari took a deep breath. Concentrating on the mundane chore had calmed her nerves. She realized thai this was probably one of the reasons Cormik had assigned her the task.
She approached Cormik, who bent over the still-unconscious mage. He had placed his velvet cloak under Morhion's head for a pillow, and the crime lord was deftly binding a bandage over the wound on the mage's brow.
"I didn't realize you were so adept at healing," Mari said softly.
"I'm not," Cormik replied. "But in my line of work, unwanted holes have a nasty way of appearing in one's self and one's co-workers, and so one gets accustomed to plugging them up." He tied the bandage and leaned back, sighing. "I'm afraid that's all I can do."
Mari reached out and gripped the mage's chill hand. Don't leave me Morhion, she thought fiercely. Don't you dare leave me. Not now. I can't do this alone.
Kellen and Jewel moved back from the window in the outer sphere.
"Did you see anything near the opening that might help us?" Cormik asked eagerly.
Jewel ran a hand through her short, dark hair. "Do you want some inane but optimistic possibilities calculated solely to keep our spirits up? Or do you want the truth?"
"You make it seem like such an attractive choice," Cormik commented acidly.
"Sorry," Jewel apologized. "I suppose that's why I'm a thief, not a politician. Not that there's much difference in what we do, just how we present it afterward." She went on. "There's only the thinnest crack between this sphere and the one that surrounds it. The window is too small to climb through, and I couldn't so much as scratch the stone with my knife. If our taciturn friend the mage were awake, I think he would tell us the sphere is enchanted In other words, we're trapped quite nicely."
"Unless we could rotate the sphere again," Kellen went on. "Then we could realign the opening in the inner sphere with the hole we fell through in the outer sphere. Maybe we could boost ourselves up and get through."
"I hadn't thought of that," Cormik admitted with an impressed look. However, they could find no trace of a mechanism by which the globe might be rotated. If any of them could unlock this mystery, it would be Morhion. "How is he?" Jewel asked quietly.
Cormik shook his head. "I'm not sure, really. The truth is, the blow to his forehead really isn't all that serious. "Its enough to give him a good headache, but that's all. I don't know why his breathing is so shallow, or his heartbeats are so fluttery."
"It was the lightning," spoke a cracked voice. "The power