Extinction - Lisa Smedman [36]
Pulling his wet piwafwi closer around him, he enveloped himself in its magic, becoming just another shadow in the overcast and dripping forest. He made his way back to the spot where they'd fought the troll.
Ryld circled the area, searching the rapidly melting slush for footprints to see which way Halisstra and the priestesses had gone, but found none. Cautiously he crept closer to the spot, expecting to hear their voices at any moment.
He saw the swath of chopped vegetation the barrier of blades had cleared and the blackened patch of ground where the troll had died, but no sign of the priestesses. He drew Splitter and spoke the words that would activate its magic, assuring himself that the priestesses weren't using an illusion or invisibility to cloak themselves.
Satisfied that he was alone, he strode into the clearing. Squatting, he studied the footprints left in the slush.
Halisstra stood here, he thought, and one of the priestesses there. The other two had stood there, and there…
And that was where the footsteps stopped. The priestesses hadn't left on foot, they'd used magic to spirit themselves away-and Halisstra with them.
She was gone, and there was no trail to follow.
Unless…
Yes, it's just possible, he thought as his eye fell on a footprint in the slush.
It was the track of the gray animal that had been fleeing through the forest. The beasts had been communicating with each other, at least, and might just communicate with him.
Ryld sheathed his sword, and began to follow the trail.
Chapter Ten
Valas peered down at the expanse of dark water below him. Lake Thoroot was even larger than he'd been told-so wide that the far side of it was lost in darkness. It reminded him of the wide, flat expanse of Anauroch, the desert they'd recently visited. The difference, however, was that the lake had steep cliffs hemming it in on every side, a waterfall that thundered into it from the cavern where Valas perched, and a high, domed ceiling overhead. Enormous stalactites hung from that ceiling. Some had points that touched the water; others were broken off like jagged teeth, making the cavern look like an enormous, ranged mouth. Valas shivered, hoping it wasn't an omen of what was to come.
A hand touched his shoulder. Turning, he saw Pharaun. Danifae was right behind him.
"What's wrong?" the mage asked.
"Nothing," Valas answered. "It's just the spray from the waterfall. I'm chilled."
Quenthel scrambled up behind Pharaun and Danifae-who backed away, one wary eye on the whip in Quenthel's belt. Quenthel was crouching to negotiate the low ceiling, her hands and feet spread wide to keep her balance on the slippery rocks. That and the hungry gleam in her eye made her look like a dark spider. Jeggred was one pace behind her, as usual, moving nimbly across the uneven ledge, his second, smaller set of arms held out for balance.
Quenthel peered into the vast cavern beyond the waterfall and asked, "Have we reached Lake Thoroot?"
Her voice was barely audible over the roar of falling water.
"It's just below," Valas answered with a nod. "About fifty paces straight down."
"Do you see any sign of the city-or the ship?"
Valas shook his head and replied, "Both are probably far beneath the surface."
But which part of the surface? he wondered.
For all Valas knew, Zanhoriloch was on the far side of the lake, though he wasn't about to admit that to Quenthel. They had entered through the only approach to the lake the scout was familiar with. The last thing he wanted was to exhibit any weakness or uncertainty, even after they found the ship and left the Underdark-and his expertise-behind.
One hand clutching the wet rock beside him, Valas leaned as far out as he dared, studying the wall below. The tunnel they'd been following was a wide one, with a natural ledge of rock on one side of the river. It had provided a welcome shortcut to the lake, an easy trek after their long, weary journey. But from there, things got tricky. The river burst out of the tunnel like a horizontal fountain,