Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [50]
The night was nearly spent before Liriel felt ready to try the spell. First she lit several candles and placed them around the edges of the scrying bowl. A conjured image had no heat, and therefore could not be seen without light. She filled the scrying bowl with water and, in lieu of the powdered substance called for by the spell, she broke an edge off one of the ancient pages of her book and crumpled it into the water.
Chanting softly, she spoke the words of the spell. The water roiled wildly, then smoothed to a glossy black. Eagerly she bent over the bowl.
In it she saw water, a vast expanse of it, rising and falling in white-crested waves. A sea, she thought excitedly. She had heard of such things. It was wonderful, this sea, so vast and open and full of possibilities. The water rose and fell even though there were no visible rocks and rapids to explain such movement, and cutting through the wild water was the largest, strangest boat she had ever seen.
The boat was long and narrow, fashioned of some thick, pale substance and crowned with enormous white wings that curved tightly to one side. The wings did not move, yet the boat flew through the water with exhilarating speed, sending white spray high as it cut through the waves. Most wondrous of all was the prow of the boat, which was crudely carved to resemble the head of a dragon.
So descendants of the Rus still lived, Liriel marveled, and they still traveled the seas in their far-sailing ships. Where might that dragon's wings take her, she thought longingly, if only she could travel with the restless humans! She bent low, gripping the sides of the scrying bowl with both hands as she devoured the image before her.
The boat turned sharply. Its white wings fluttered for a moment and then snapped hard to the other side. Straight ahead, visible over the rampant dragon on the prow, was an island, its edges muted by mist and the spray of water. Liriel knew about islands, for even in the city there were small islets of rock and soil in Lake Donigarten. But this place was no more like the rothe pasture than black, brooding Donigarten was like this sea. The island was huge, with a wild rock-strewn shore and sloping cliffs. And it was green, so green that beholding it hurt the eyes.
Closer and closer the island came, for the boat was flying toward it with astonishing speed. A cove came into view, a large, deeply curving bay sheltered by the tallest, strangest plants Liriel had ever seen. There were docks there, and the tiny forms of the people who waited to welcome the travelers home. Liriel felt the lure of that harbor as strongly as she had heard the call of the sea. Not blinking, hardly breathing, she gazed into the bowl.
Several more minutes passed before she acknowledged the pain smoldering behind her eyes. At first she put it down to her intense concentration; then she noticed the sky was changing color. The wondrous, vivid midnight blue was fading away to luminous silver. The sea also changed, becoming a bright, rose-touched gray that hurt the eyes. Suddenly Liriel understood what was happening.
"Dawn," she whispered in awe. The sun approaches."
The sun. The inexorable, searing enemy that had defeated her people in battle against the dwarves, the blinding light that kept them imprisoned Below. Oddly enough,
Liriel experienced none of the fear or loathing she had been taught she should feel. All she felt was a consuming lust to see such wonders with her own eyes. For such a thing, she would give anything, she vowed.
Then the reality of her life returned to her with the force of a dagger's thrust, and the enticing image in the scrying bowl winked out of view. Liriel slumped back in her chair.
No, she corrected herself; for such a thing, she would give everything.
She might not fear the sun, she whose eyes had been trained to candlelight from her fifth year of life. But Liriel knew what would happen to her if she walked in the Lands of Light. Her dark-elven magic would be burned away.
She'd heard the whispered stories about the disastrous surface