Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [17]
"Aye, 'twas cute," Slip said. "What'd it say?"
"Something touching the matter of passwords," said Asson.
"Bother," the halfling said, and flung herself aside.
Liet blinked as the adventurers scattered. Twilight leaped and knocked him to the floor. His arms went reflexively around her and they rolled together down the stairs. His leg ground painfully. They skidded down three steps and stopped.
They cleared the landing not a second too soon, for a wave of emerald fire washed over them. It beat upon his back like heat from an oven into which the sun had misplaced itself. Liet felt his skin hissing in the heat, but was relieved when he didn't burn. He stared down, down into green fire that more than matched the rune's fury above.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, it ended. The storm of flame snuffed itself out in a matter of heartbeats. The corridor seemed darker and quieter in its absence.
Liet felt its cessation, but only distantly. His eyes were fixed downward, staring at Twilight's white face. Her wide eyes stared back, daring him to blink. The green went out of her eyes and they settled back into the silver of Asson's staff mingled with the firelight from Slip's torch and the ruby power tracing Davoren's fists. Liet's arms were around Twilight's shoulders, hers around his waist.
"Well, I think we've all learned a lesson this day," Slip said, breaking the awkward silence. "Best to ignore the scenery."
The others stared. Twilight's eyes flicked to the side, and Liet looked at the halfling, who beamed. "What?" Slip asked.
Liet looked back down at Twilight. The luminous eyes were upon him again.
"Well," she whispered. "Are you going to move?"
Liet scrambled to do just that. His hands skimmed a few parts of her body as he did so, for which he cursed himself even more.
That's the second time I've leaped on that boy, Twilight thought as Liet groped his way off her. Best not make a habit of it.
She rose, fluidly and gracefully. Gargan and Slip seemed indifferent. Taslin and Asson had politely turned their backs. Only Davoren stared. Twilight shot him a kiss, and he turned away.
She waved them on and they continued up the steps, avoiding the walls.
"What language was that?" she asked Asson, who had seemed to understand it.
"Netherese," the old wizard said. " 'Tis a difficult dialect, though." Taslin, Twilight noted, scratched at an earring she wore. "The words were… inverted, somehow. Curious. I shall ponder this."
"Well, keep pondering," said Davoren. "It's all you'll be good for."
Twilight hissed them to silence. The top of the steps opened into a new chamber.
Motioning Slip to join her, Twilight drew Betrayal and crept up the stairs, leaving the others a few paces behind. The dusky blade felt light and eager in her hand. Flames, alternating with a humming pulse of lightning, hissed up the blade out of the corner of her eye. Twilight was accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of the rapier, so much that they reassured her. They provided a kind of constancy in a world defined by change.
She and Slip crept to the opening, staying low to the floor.
"I can't see in the dark," whispered the halfling.
"I can," replied Twilight. She scanned the rough-hewn walls and the myriad runes inscribed on stone slabs that lay strewn about the room. "A crypt." She eyed the sarcophagi, many of which were upset or torn open. "A disturbed crypt."
"By the Matriarch," said Slip with a shudder. "A crypt? I hate crypts!"
"We're probably coming from the lowest point in these catacombs," said Twilight. "Why? Because that's always the way it is."
She could see no movement in the crypt, but that didn't mean nothing was there. Possessed of the silence and patience of the grave, undead could elude the most delicate eyes. Twilight saw red streaks that traced a path from this stair deeper into the chamber. She didn't have to smell or taste it to know what it was.
"Slip." Twilight turned to her companion, who was huddled against the wall beside her. She reached out and touched the halfling lightly on