Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [58]
The first rat-thing leaped from the pipe. As it landed on Leifander's bare thigh and sank its fangs into his flesh, Leifander clenched his teeth against the pain, not permitting himself to make a noise, but as more of the vile creatures poured down from the pipe, landing on his naked body, he at last gave vent to his terror and screamed.
Larajin awoke with a start to find a hand over her mouth. As her eyes flew open, she saw Rylith looking down at her. The druid raised a finger to her hps for silence. Larajin nodded, and the hand covering her mouth was withdrawn.
She sat up and glanced around the tent. The rain must have ended; hot sunlight filtered through the wet leather, which was steaming. Near the tent flap, the owl was asleep on its perch, ears twitching slightly with each rustle of Rylith's leaf cloak. Just outside the entrance, Larajin could hear two wood elves talking. Rylith cocked her head, listening, then pointed at Larajin and at herself, and jerked a thumb, indicating she'd come to take Larajin away.
Larajin stared at the druid, wondering how she'd managed to sneak past the guards and the owl. More to the point, what was she doing there? She was clearly at odds with the elves who were holding Larajin hostage-the need for silence told Larajin that much-but could Larajin trust her?
A section of Rylith's cloak rustled, seemingly of its own accord. Looking down, Larajin saw the cause. Golden eyes peered up at her as the tressym pushed its way past Ryhth to nudge Larajin with its cheek. Goldheart turned and licked Rylith's hand and allowed the druid to stroke her head. Larajin could just hear her soft purring.
Larajin's mind was made up in an instant. If Gold-heart trusted Ryhth, so would she.
She pointed at the owl and in the direction the voices outside the tent were coming from, then shrugged a silent question. How were they possibly going to sneak past the guards outside?
Rylith winked, then drew a pouch from a pocket on the front of her vest. Loosening the thong that held it shut, she carefully began to pour out its contents: an orange-red powder that looked like ground crystal and smelled like tree sap. Goldheart watched intently, sniffed at the powder, then sneezed. As Larajin glanced in alarm at the owl-it didn't appear to have heard the faint noise and was still sleeping on its perch-Rylith scooped the tressym into her arms. She handed Goldheart to Larajin, then continued pouring the powder. When she was finished, a perfect circle had been traced on the ground between Larajin's bedding and the side of the tent.
Squatting just outside this circle of dust, Rylith held out a hand, and gestured for Larajin to join her. Tucking Goldheart firmly under one arm, Larajin took Rylith's hand, waiting for further instructions. The druid mimed a descending count, folding fingers and thumb one by one against her palm as she counted down from five to one, then "walked" two fingers in the air, as if they were stepping over something. Larajin nodded, and lifted her foot, moving it slightly toward the circle of powdered tree sap to show that she understood.
Outside the tent, one of the elves called out to another. It sounded as though the guard was being changed. As the owl stirred in its sleep, ruffling its feathers, both women froze, but after a few tense moments it settled again without opening its eyes.
Ryhth gave Larajin a purposeful look and began the count. As her thumb joined her fingers against her palm, both women stepped into the circle, and Rylith spoke a single word.
The owl's enormous golden eyes flashed open, and the ground lurched sideways beneath Larajin's feet as tent and owl disappeared in a spinning blur. For an instant that stretched impossibly long between two heartbeats, a dark void