Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [64]
Instantly, Tal was all business. "Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"I'll explain on the way. And you can tell me what happened to you."
Tal nodded grimly, and rubbed the heavy beard on his cheeks. He eyed the tressym, which had backed into a corner and seemed disinclined to get near him.
"Let's go," he said. "But first, I need to find a scarf to hide my face."
With one last, desperate heave, Leifander yanked at the bolt that held his left wrist to the floor. At last the rusted bolt cracked, then pulled free. Nearly weeping with relief, Leifander wrenched himself up off the floor-as much as he could, with his right wrist and both ankles still manacled-and flailed at the rats that had been worrying his flesh. The manacle around his wrist connected with a dull thud, slamming down hke a hammer onto one of the rats. Leifander had the satisfaction of hearing a squeal as the injured rat scurried away.
Another rat took its place a moment later- and met the same fate. With a fury born of pent-up frustration, Leifander thrashed this way and that, killing five or six of the foul creatures. Finally sensing their danger, the remaining rats paused in their attack and hunkered just outside his reach, watching and waiting. It was as if they knew that the elf would tire soon enough-then they would feed.
The oil lamps had burned out some time ago, leaving Leifander in near darkness. A faint, gray circle of light came from the hole in the ceiling above-the ventilation pipe that the rats had come through. Now that the lamps were no longer filling the air with nose-clogging soot, Leifander could smell leaves and blooming flowers on the faint breeze that blew down through it.
The other end of the pipe must be above ground, he thought, in a garden, perhaps.
That gave him hope.
Still keeping a wary eye on the rats, he resumed his prayer to the Winged Mother. He'd repeated it dozens of times already. The goddess must surely hear it soon.
"Lady of the Skies, hear my plea. Send me the means to work my-"
The words tangled into a cry of pain as a rat sank filthy fangs into a tender spot on the bottom of his foot. His left foot-the one spot he couldn't reach, with his right wrist still manacled to the floor. He tried to kick the rat off, but the manacle around that ankle allowed little movement. The rat clung to his foot, eyes gleaming in the darkness. Leifander heard a chewing sound as it began to feed.
A fresh wave of pain lanced into him as a second rat, made bold by the success of the first, sank its fangs into his heel. A third rat scurried up onto his ankle and bit him there. Straining, Leifander was just able to reach it and knock it off, but the other rats were rushing forward. Leifander felt tiny human hands pulling at his toes, as if his foot were a cow's udder, being milked of its blood.
Gritting his teeth, Leifander resumed his prayer as best he could while the rats worried and gnawed at his left foot.
"Aerdrie Faenya, hear your priest in his torment!" he
shouted at the hole in the ceiling. "Enfold me in your protecting wings, I beg of you!"
Nothing. The only sounds were the gnashing teeth of the rats and a scraping sound in the ventilation pipe above that was probably more of their foul brethren, come to join the feast. It felt as though the rats were flaying his foot, peehng back the callused skin to expose the soft and bloody tissue beneath.
He tried again. "Lady of Air and-"
He gasped at a fresh wave of pain and heard a cracking, grating sound. The rats had gnawed one toe down to the bone. He gulped back a cry.
"Lady of Air and Wind, send me aid."
A tear squeezed out of one eye. Down in this foul, close place, would his pleas even be heard?
Above him, a creature squeezed out of the ventilation pipe and began to fall toward him. For a moment, Leifander thought it was another rat. He raised his free hand and balled his fist, preparing to punch it out of the air, but