Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [12]
"Indeed," said Davoren. "I've one." He raised a fist, which crackled with spinning energy. "What's to keep me from smiting your leader right now and taking her place?"
Then he raised his other fist, and the energy arced between them.
"And a second-a corollary, if you will." He furrowed his brow, as though thoughtful. "What's to keep me from smiting all of you right now? It seems to me that none of us are armed, and I need no weapo-"
As the words snapped out of his mouth, Twilight exploded into motion. She dived into a roll, came up inside the circle of Davoren's arms, and whipped the metal shard, which she had concealed behind her arm, against his throat.
The warlock chuckled. "Meaningless," he said. "My powers are of the Nine Hells, and in my veins pumps the blood of demons-no mere metal can bite my skin."
"Yes, but I'm willing to wager that if you've a demon's blood, you've a demon's weakness," Twilight said. "And this, if you hadn't noticed, is cold-wrought iron."
Davoren did not move or blink, but the rage in his eyes said enough.
During the standoff, both poised to slay the other in a single flick of the wrist, the other prisoners watched, awestruck. No one spoke.
Then, of all assembled, Asson stepped forward. "Davoren, Twilight," he said, the trepidation clear in his voice. "This gets us nowhere. That troll won't sleep forever." Down the corridor, the room having gone silent, they could hear its snores.
Neither moved, but the tension slowly dissolved between them. Or, more appropriately, reality intruded and forced some of their rancor aside.
Some.
"Very well." Davoren lowered his hands. "I shall accept the fiUiken's leadership." Taslin and Asson cringed at the words in Elvish for "skirt" and "open," combined with Davoren's tone. "For now."
The elf smiled only slightly and drew her blade away. "Very well," she said.
Slowly, hot anger subsided into cold anxiety. Torches flickered where they lit the chamber, and the trolls hacking snores did not reassure Twilight. Who knew what other dangers might be in the darkness?
But she wouldn't think about it. She picked at her damp chemise and eyed the frayed cloaks and robes they all wore. Then she looked at the chest and the ring of keys.
I hope this isn't a jest, she thought. I'm near dead for some decent clothes.
Exactly three hundred heartbeats later, Davoren snarled for the sixth time, startling Liet. "I thought our waiting was for a purpose," he said. "Was I mistaken?"
"Patience is not your specialty, then," Taslin said. She kept watch at his side, gazing down the corridor and waiting for any sign of the troll, or other horror.
"No," Davoren said. "But rampant destruction… that I do quite well."
Liet knelt next to a wall, his arms around his knees. He tried not to think about the darkness, or the cold, or the troll he could still hear snoring, or… then he caught himself, stopped, and shivered. He felt awkward-alone, even surrounded by the others.
He glanced at Twilight. The elf had tried every key and was now working on that black chest with her shard of iron. She'd shushed him when he'd tried to talk to her. The intensity in her eyes when she focused on a task disturbed him.
"Here!" Slip shouted from where she perched atop Gargan's shoulder. Her loud voice caused half of them to jump and the others to hiss at her in warning.
If Slip noticed, she made no sign. Fingers traced a crease in the stone. "Found it!"
"Found what?" Liet asked, allowing himself to hope. "A way out?"
He looked, and sure enough, she pointed to a line in the stone, a crack like the edge of a trapdoor. Slip knocked on one side of the groove, which gave off a stony thump, then upon the other, which produced a metallic ring.
Setting the halfling down gently, eliciting a giggle from the little creature, Gargan put his hands to the ceiling, only a head above him. The goliath pushed, gently at first, then with greater effort. With a scrape, the metal plate rose a good thumb's breadth. A trace of dust filtered down. The goliath pushed- slowly, so as not