Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [72]
Face burning, Slip sobbed over the corpse, while Davoren smirked, tapping his fingers against a dragon-shaped scepter he wore at his belt. Liet stood aloof, hand on his sword; he didn't meet Twilight's gaze, and she appreciated that.
Gargan was saying something in the goliath tongue, and Twilight could not understand. Trembling, she bent down and gently took the ensorcelled earring from Taslin's ear and put the device in her left ear lobe. She heard an arcane hum, and suddenly she could understand everything Gargan said. She caught him in mid sentence, but he said enough.
"-found no trace," said the goliath, pointing up, where the creature had clung to the ceiling. "Its trail was not on the floor."
Twilight ran-limping, but she ran. " 'Light!" shouted Liet. "Where-?"
Sword in hand, feverish, Twilight darted back through the chambers, eyes raised. She followed their exact path, but she wasn't watching as the corridors flew past. Somewhere along the way, her hip smashed into a broken table and she stumbled, but her eyes nevet left the dusty ceiling. To an onlooker, she must have looked quite mad.
Finally she arrived back at the spellcasting chamber and searched above. With a wrenching wail, she collapsed to her knees in a pool of dried lizardfolk blood, clutched herself tightly, and fell to cursing.
"I was right," she gasped. "Oh, Erevan! I was right."
When the others came a breath or three later, staring at a madwoman, Twilight was still swearing incoherently and weeping angry tears, staring up.
There, the path of long coils-the path she had followed from the site of the ambush-terminated at the secret door.
CHAPTER Sixteen
tats the matter?" Liet asked as Twilight lay against him, a long while later. "Is it not obvious?" she said, tracing her fingers idly down his chest. "I railed."
They lay out of sight of the others, but not as tar as the ptevious night. She had chosen a side chamber off the main summoning chamber, which must once have been a wizard's bedchamber. The others camped near the wrecked horrors.
Their lovemaking had been fierce. Twilight could feel more than see Liet flinch as her fingers found a bruise here or a scratch there, but she did not care. She was furious, even as she took profound joy in him. Such conflict-the lay of her life.
Liet, half clothed, leaned against the wall. Twilight, her breeches and blouse flung carelessly aside, lay against him. Both were wrapped in his cloak. She'd wanted him to take his shirt off, but Liet had been adamant about his arms. Perhaps he found their sight too painful. Twilight understood a thing or two about pain.
After building Taslin a decent cairn and marking it with the remains of her sword, Slip locked the room as best she could. They spent the rest of the day exploring the sanctum listlessly. The magic had been long ransacked or ruined, either by passing tomb raiders, golems, or lizardfolk, and they found the place largely empty of anything of value.
The party found only a ratty pair of boots, to which the halfling had taken a liking. They were not magical by Twilight's estimation, though she did not have the heart to disappoint Slip. They also discovered a set of three rather dull steel rods now carried by Liet, which the shadowdancer knew to be magical but could not sense anything other than their general purpose-altering something.
She wished they could alter that day.
And there was Davoren's newly acquired scepter, and anything else the treacherous warlock had seized during the battle.
Half a dozen lizardmen had entered the sanctum at one point, and following Twilight's better judgment-against her bitter anger-the five had hidden, not fought. That concession to discretion had grated on Twilight. More than anything else, she felt helpless in this barren place, with her allies being slain one by one, without any real direction. She felt a failure as a leader.
And now there was Taslin's death, a death that could have