Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [75]
The hands were Taslin's.
"No," Twilight said, searching her skin. "That can't… can't be…"
She thought she heard laughter, soft and hidden, behind her.
Twilight shrieked and scratched at herself, desperate to get it off, but it only smeared. She tore open the precious waterskin and splashed it over her. She scrubbed, furiously, with the sweaty cloak, cleansing herself as best she could. All the filth of days trapped in these caverns came back to her, and she moaned and cursed the cloak that it would not cleanse her-not fully. She looked to her tinderbox.
Then something slammed into the stout, locked door. She screamed again and scrubbed harder. Harder. Knuckles split, and the scratches drew blood.
She didn't stop, couldn't stop. She couldn't let them see. Couldn't let them…
Gargan finally bashed the door open and Liet tumbled in, sword drawn, to defend Twilight from whatever could be attacking her. Slip danced in behind him, mace in one hand and obsidian dagger in the other. Even Davoren was there, scepter in hand.
Liet saw Twilight standing nude in the center of the room,
Betrayal in both hands. Scratches covered her body. Shaking, midnight hair wild, she stared at them with terrible vehemence. In the corner of the chambet, something burned smokily.
" 'Light?" He thought to sheathe the sword, but wasn't sure it was prudent.
"Stay away," Twilight snapped. "Stay back! Traitors! Liars!"
Liet stepped toward her. The rapier pointed at his face. "Back!" she screamed.
There was tense silence punctuated only by her heavy breathing.
"Davoren," Liet said quietly. "Davoren-give Slip your cloak."
For once, the warlock did what he was bid. Despite a weighing smile, he stripped off the black fabric, tattered as it had become, and handed it to the halfling.
"Slip," Liet said.
She hesitated, trembling.
"Slip, please."
The halfling looked up at Gargan for support, and the goliath nodded. Slip crept into Twilight's chamber and proffered the cloak. As Liet had thought, the elf did not attack her. She accepted the garment, looked at Slip with something like thanks, then collapsed like a discarded marionette.
They rushed to her side.
CHAPTER Seventeen
In her own clothes, having had some water from Liet's skin, Twilight felt more herself, though the shudders hadn't quite passed. Of course she hadn't told the others what happened-a nightmare, she said. She wasn't even certain that had been a lie, though she suspected not; she smelled like blood. She worried they noticed.
Davoren stretched and moved about his tasks of the morning with a spring in his step that had nothing to do with the lack of food. "I halfway enjoy life in this labyrinth without the golden bitch constantly whining," said the warlock. "Ah, silence."
"You said that already," growled Slip from her cloak.
"Ah yes," Davoren replied with a smile. He bent down next to her and looked her in the eye. "I just wanted to make sure my point came across quite fully."
The halfling bristled but said nothing, prompting the warlock's grin to widen. Slip shoved the rest of her gear in her pack and scurried over to where Twilight sat against the wall, clasping her arms about herself. Twilight met the halfling with an easy smile.
"Good morn, little one," she said as Slip thumped down with a sigh. She reached over and put an arm around the halfling's shoulders, as one might a child. Since her horror of the night before-which might have been a dream, anyway-she had found nothing as comforting as the small one-not her clothes, not her sword, not Liet.
After a time, Slip spoke, quietly and hesitantly. " 'Light, I've a favor to ask." Her innocent voice sounded particularly meek in the dark cavern.
"I'm a great proponent