Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [94]
Leaning out as far as she dared, she extended her right foot and tested the ledge with it. The ice seemed solid enough. Gradually, she eased her weight onto it…
And the ice below her right foot gave a deep, groaning crack.
Larajin froze, poised over the gap. An instant later, the ledge she'd been trying to reach gave way. Gasping, Larajin threw her weight back, trying to reach the safety of the spot where she'd just been standing, but her left foot slipped. Thrown off-balance, she fell to her knees. She
scrabbled at the ice, seeking a handhold-and found one-but then her knees slipped from the edge. Her full weight was supported only by her hands. Pain shot through her left wrist as it twisted, and that hand lost its grip-Just as she thought she was about to go over the edge, one scrabbling foot at last found a toehold, then the other found a foothold. She heaved herself upward, waves of agony shooting through her sprained wrist. As she pulled herself to safety, she felt her dagger catch on a outcropping of ice and yank from its sheath. It fell onto the ice and began to slide away.
Larajin grabbed for it, but her position forced her to reach with the hand that had been twisted in the ice. Her fingers still weren't working properly. They brushed against the hilt but would not close upon it. Despite the bright moonlight, the shadows of the splintered ice made the dagger difficult to see. Was it slipping out from under her fingertips and going over the edge? "Illunathrosl" she cried.
With a bright flash of blue light, the dagger illuminated-then it slipped off into space. Despondent, Larajin watched it fall toward the lake below. It flashed brightly as it tumbled end over end.
A loud caw echoed across the lake as a small dark shape streaked through the night toward the ice tower. At the last moment before the dagger struck the surface, the weapon's fall slowed until it was drifting down as gently as a feather. Just before it reached the water, the crow swooped low over the lake and neatly plucked it from the air with its feet. The bird wheeled in a graceful curve and began climbing toward the spot where Larajin crouched, the dagger glowing brightly in its talons.
"Leifander!" Larajin exclaimed.
The crow cawed again in greeting, then hovered next to Larajin, wings beating furiously. One wing lagged slightly behind the other, as if he were exhausted from a long flight.
Larajin reached out and took the dagger from him, nodded her head in an abbreviated bow of heartfelt thanks, and secured the dagger in the sheath at her hip.
Leifander landed, hopped sideways along the ridge toward a flat spot, then spread his wings. A moment later a ripple passed through him as he shifted back into elf form. His bare feet slid a little on the ice, and he waved his arms for a moment like beating wings before finding his balance. One arm seemed stiff, as if it pained him, and his right eye and cheek were splotchy with the shadows of fresh bruises.
"You're injured," Larajin observed aloud. "What happened?"
He winced, as if something other than his injuries pained him. "It's nothing."
"Did the elf near the forked oak attack you?"
Leifander glanced up sharply. "What elf?"
"The one who shot an arrow at me. He spotted me as I entered the water."
Leifander looked grimly back at the shore. "He must have been one of those who patrol the lake. Well have trouble getting back. Especially now. The entire shore will be watching for us."
"You were gone so long," Larajin continued. "I thought, for a moment there, that you'd joined that elf patrol and weren't coming back. I'm sorry I doubted-"
Leifander interrupted her with a bitter laugh.