Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [34]
The mage coughed and shimmered into visibility where he sat on the floor. "This old heart's still beating."
"Gargan and Davoren, you're both well?"
"In a sense," said Davoren. "I believe my hair was mussed." He cracked his knuckles and smoothed the gray spikes back against his scalp. He didn't look injured. The goliath nodded silently.
Liet didn't see anyone else, so he called their names. "Taslin?"
No response. "Slip?"
There came a groan. "By the Mother," the halfling's soft voice cracked.
Gargan bent down and prodded at a small body half hidden under a grimlock. He murmured something. The halfling shook her head and sat up. She looked up at the giant man, smiled weakly, and threw her arms around his leg. Gargan blinked at her.
" 'Light?" asked Liet. No reply.
His voice shook. "Twilight?"
Tracing a semicircle over the room with his hand, Gargan growled something in his rough tongue, and while Liet did not understand, the meaning seemed clear.
"No bodies," Asson said, reflecting his thoughts. "Taken?"
Liet helped him up, and the old man leaned on his shoulder. Liet propped him against a wall and broke away to search the room. He saw nothing.
"Five or six escaped," Liet said. "The elves are light."
"My, my," said Davoren, "how unfortunate for them." He smiled at the halfling, who was still shaking her head. "Now, child-point us toward this upward tunnel."
Slip rubbed her brow, where a little blood trickled down. "What?"
"No." Asson turned to confront the warlock. Davoren's red eyes went to the mage's face, and he faltered but spoke up. "We can't just aban-"
"Abandon them?" Davoren proposed. "What an excellent idea. I think such a course is the optimal one. If Tymora smiles, they will keep the creatures occupied while we make good our escape. Wenches tend to be adept at such things. If they aren't dead already, that is." He cracked his knuckles. "Now. Where is the tunnel?"
The wide-eyed halfling pressed her face into Gargan's knee.
Ashen-faced, mouth open, Asson put one hand up as though to cast a spell. Davoren pointed two fingers at him. Red fire danced around his gauntlet. "Oh yes, whitebeard," he said. "Try me now, when your little love-slave isn't here to protect you." He looked down. "Or hold you up, even."
"I-I object," Liet said before he realized his mouth was open. When the warlock turned smug eyes on him, he stammered. "W-we have to save them. I think-"
"Truly?" Davoren shrugged. "Well, you're wrong. Now then."
"In the absence of our leader, we should put this to a vote," Asson said, drawing Davoren's gaze. Davoren kept one hand aimed at Asson and moved the other toward Liet. Fire arced between his arms. Liet could feel his body shaking.
As soon as those red eyes left him, Liet felt his tongue freed. "Aye. A vote."
With death pointed at Asson and Liet, the warlock burst out laughing. "A vote? Oh, please. We've gone over this before. We'll do what I say, because I am the strongest. Oh, but do object. By all means. I shan't need the two of you, anyway."
"No." Liet's eyes widened as Gargan put his hand on the back of Davoren's neck. How had he moved so stealthily, with such a huge body? "Vote."
The warlock glared up at the goliath for several long breaths, but it was unclear what he was thinking. Perhaps he realized the fragility of his position-a twist of Gargan's wrist would snap his neck-or perhaps he was considering whether he could press on without support.
The warlock finally shrugged. "Very well. I shall indulge your foolishness." He crossed his arms and Gargan released him. Davoren strode over to lean against the wall across the cavern from Asson. "This time."
"Good," Liet breathed. He wasn't quite up to words. He was glad of the goliath s support, though the emeralds in his gray face remained unreadable.
"I argue that we go back to save Taslin and Twilight," Asson said. "They have served us well, and it would be foolish not to rescue them."
"Of course you would," snapped Davoren. "One of the wenches shares your bed, so your judgment is clouded. Thus,