Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [162]
"Damn it, Zip," she mourned.
A flicker of light returned to the left head's eyes. "My life has numbered more than twenty thousand days," the dragon said, and her voice was content. "This was the best of them all." With those words, half of Zz'Pzora died.
The right head stirred and lifted out of the golden pile. "A word of advice," the dragon added in a rapidly fading voice. "Don't trust that human of yours. An utter fool! He offered to follow me into Pharx's lair and help in battle if needed. In return, he offered to let me kill him if he should raise a sword against any of Qilue's drow. Talk about a win-win situation!" The right head grinned, and not in Liriel's direction. "You're on your own now." With that, the reptilian eyes glazed as the right head followed her counterpart into the darkness.
For a long moment Liriel sat and rocked the enormous head in her lap. So often she'd considered the high price to be paid for trust and friendship, but it had never occurred to her the price might be demanded from another. Then the sound of battle grew louder, breaking through the drow girl's pain and grief. Liriel realized Iljrene's forces had met resistance, after all.
The drow gently laid Zz'Pzora's head down and rose to her feet. She recoiled, for she found herself face-to-face with Fyodor. Suddenly the dragon's last, comradely words made sense.
"Get out of here!" she shrieked, pushing him toward the tunnel. "Stubborn, stupid… human!"
"It is too late," Fyodor said in a despairing voice. His gaze turned to the approaching conflict, and his hand closed on the hilt of his sword. Before Liriel's eyes, he seemed to take on height and power. The battle rage was coming upon him, and it would no doubt be his last.
Liriel's fingers closed around the Windwalker. For one last moment, she savored her dark-elven heritage.
The ritual to bring on a battle rage! Do it!" she commanded.
Fyodor gave her a startled look, but he was too far beyond his own control to question the order. Witches commanded the Rashemi berserkers, and he had long ago accepted Liriel as wychlaran. So he lifted his deep, bass voice in song, singing in the language of his homeland the hymn of battle to come.
The drow, meanwhile, opened the amulet. She snatched the flask of magically distilled jhuild from Fyodor's sash. She quickly twisted off the top of the amulet, then unstop-pered the flask with her teeth and tipped it slowly, carefully over the tiny sheath. Liriel had no idea if this ritual would suffice to store and control the berserker magic. If it worked at all, it would be temporary. At least it would buy Fyodor's life and those of the drow he would slay in his frenzy. No one else, Liriel vowed fiercely, would pay for the choices she had made.
Suddenly Fyodor's song stopped, and the Rashemi's eyes turned dull and hollow. Liriel caught him as he fell, not caring that the precious flask of jhuild clattered down among the treasure. The dark hair at the back of Fyodor's head was parted by a deep gash, and through the swift flow of blood Liriel caught a glimpse of bone.
She looked up. Over them stood Gorlist, a bloodied sword in his hand. "Your turn," he said with dark satisfaction.
Cold wrath coursed through the drow girl, pushing aside her grief. "Hand to hand," she challenged, and the fighter accepted with a nod and a smirk. With careful, deliberate movements Liriel stoppered the amulet, locking her Underdark magic firmly into place. She rose and pulled her dagger. The two drow crossed weapons with a ringing clash, and the deadly duel began.
Liriel knew at once that Gorlist's skills far outclassed her own. At first it was all she could do to hold off his furious, pounding slashes. The male was taller, heavier, and more experienced. But Liriel's hours of practice told, and she fought with more skill than she'd thought she possessed. Yet she knew she couldn't outfight Gorlist. Her only chance was to out-think him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Qilue step through the portal, followed by her priestesses. They did not see her, or hear the