Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [10]
The giant stepped into the light from the corridor. His skin was gray like stone, and tiny swells rose like warts along thick muscles. A design in red, like a birthmark or tattoo, spanned the creature's mostly bare chest and belly, covered only by a tattered tunic. Twilight stiffened and had to stop her fingers from straying to her lower back.
"Gargan Vathkelke Kaugathal," he said. "No… giant."
A keen intellect shone in the creature's emerald eyes-eyes that flickered with something like recognition. This creature was not simple-minded. More than that, an eerie wisdom burned there-an uncanny intuition. He seemed more than capable of understanding what was said, likely from body language and inflection. A rare talent.
Suddenly afraid, she forced a peaceable grin.
"If not a giant, then what," asked Liet, climbing to his feet shakily, "are you?"
The stone-skinned creature regarded him flatly, his eyes judging, deciding, and dismissing. Twilight made a note of it. She had already guessed the answer. "He's a goliath."
Gargan nodded and bowed his head slightly. "Kuli gumatha goli kanakath."
Twilight extended her hand, and the goliath looked down at it, curious.
"What was that?" Liet whispered.
"I've no idea," Twilight said through a clenched smile.
CHAPTER Three
In less than a quarter bell, the prisoners were assembled in the guard chamber, as far from Tlork as they could manage. Each waited in his or her distinct fashion.
Gargan the goliath leaned against the back corner of the room, arms folded. He had spoken no more since being released, a fact that did not surprise Twilight. She had heard of the goliath race, but had never heard them called verbose. At his feet lay the locked chest, carried from Tlork's chamber through the application of stony muscles.
Liet paced, shivering and casting wary glances around. When he saw Twilight looking at him, he visibly relaxed, but she wouldn't give him that. She looked away, letting him grow progressively more nervous.
Taslin and Asson stood together in a different corner, the woman protectively in front of her companion. Taslin had enough strength for both of them. "How long?" she questioned. "Soon," Twilight said. "I need all of us together." No sooner had she spoken than Slip entered. The uneasy look on the halfling's face, even before Twilight saw the cowled figure that walked behind her, told her that she should reconsider gathering all the prisoners.
"I brought the one from the wizard cell." Slip bit her lip. "He's got himself a nasty streak, this one. Beware!"
Slowly, Twilight nodded. She'd sensed evil in that cell, and she'd been right.
"Spare me this runt's drivel," the man snapped. "Who among you speaks sense?"
Taslin stepped forward. "Who are you?" she asked, defiant, shoulders back.
Twilight cursed. That a champion of the Seldarine could sense what she herself had felt failed to surprise her. She was entirely too familiar with the devout.
The cowled man shot his dark eyes over them all and a glittering sneer of sharp teeth appeared in the depths of the cowl. The air around his hands shimmered, and ruby energy crackled to life in his palms. The prisoners stepped back, all but Twilight, who palmed the iron shard. Her eyes went to the locked chest- perhaps she should have opened it before releasing the others, but she couldn't have carried it without Gargan.
"I am the warlock Davoren Hellsheart," the cowled man said. "And from now on, you will speak only when I speak to you, yellow whore." He accentuated the point with a glare that promised swift, magical death. "You as well, whitebeard."
Taslin's face went white. "In Corellon's name-"
Twilight stopped her with a hand on her arm and a sharp look, at which Taslin frowned. She looked away. "Well met, Davoren," Twilight said pointedly.
The warlock's eyes flicked to her and he paused, cruel mouth twisted. His gaze was chill. "Indeed," he said. "You know my name, and I-"
"Fox-at-Twilight," she said, cutting him off. "And I say we waste no more time."
Davoren pulled back his hood, revealing surprisingly well-groomed,