Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [74]
Liriel nodded as several pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The necessity of feeding so many young had driven the dragazhar to attack a drow party. The bats had left the two poisoned dark elves behind, probably because the baby dragazhar could not feed upon poisoned flesh. Judging from the number of young, Liriel estimated the cave was home to several hunting packs of bats-at least three or four score of adults. That was certainly enough to destroy a small party of drow fighters-She carefully scanned the low-ceilinged cave. Few drow ventured into such areas, but those who did claimed they were veritable treasure troves. Liriel had a very specific treasure in mind.
The drow cast a cautious glance over each shoulder. The tunnel was dark and silent for as far as she could see. The bats were out hunting again, except for the few nursemaids left behind to tend the young. Liriel realized her chances were not good; on the other hand, they'd never be better.
Liriel pulled herself up onto the ledge. Clutching her piwafwi close, she edged into the lair. The acrid smell of bat guano assaulted her, and she blessed the enchanted boots that allowed her to walk without the sickening crunch that should have heralded her intrusion. She had not gone far when her foot nudged something soft. She crouched for a closer look.
It was the body of a tall drow male-or what remained of him. Fine chain mail had turned aside the fangs of the deep-bats and left the torso mostly intact, but the limbs were little more than bone. Two other bodies lay nearby, in no better condition than the first.
If Liriel had needed a reminder of the importance of stealth and silence, she could not have asked for a better one. Carefully she patted down the partially eaten bodies. She found a good supply of poisoned darts and several very nice knives. Usually she would have taken such items, but these bodies would be searched later, and she did not want anyone to suspect she had already been hi the cave.
Several moments passed before Liriel found what she sought. One of the dead drow wore a leather pouch, suspended from his neck by a long thong and hidden beneath the chain mail vest. In the bag was a three-inch dagger, tucked into a rune-carved sheath that hung from a broken chain. Clutching the amulet triumphantly in her hand, Liriel backed out of the lair.
She hurried back to the relative safety of the glowing cavern and examined her trophy more closely. Yes, it was the very trinket she had glimpsed in Fyodor's mind. She understood now how such a thing could lure a man into the Underdark. This, if it was indeed the Windwalker, was a unique magical treasure, an artifact from a long-gone era of strange and powerful sorcery. Finding such a thing was a worthy We quest. Possessing it was worth all the risks Fyodor had taken.
Would take. With that thought, Liriel's triumph evaporated and her face creased in a scowl. Of course the human would return, and if she had found the dead merchants, he might also. The man had certainly shown himself to be strong and resourceful. But without the benefit of elven boots and the shielding invisibility of a piwafwi, he would no doubt join the drow fighters as food for the deepbat young.
Liriel did not stop to ponder why she should care about the matter one way or another. There was no time to waste, and she quickly formulated a plan that would accomplish what needed to be done. She took out her spellbook and summoned the magic gate that led to Kharza's tower. What she had in mind would require the wizard's help.
But Kharza was not alone when she stepped into his study. Her tutor sat behind his desk, his pale-knuckled hands clasped tightly before him. Lounging in a chair nearby was a drow male, probably the most strikingly exotic dark elf Liriel had ever seen. His long, copper-colored hair was bound back in a single thick tail, and in the faint candlelight his eyes gleamed as black as his