Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [102]
“We could build a raft,” said Scylla. “Lash together some logs. Perhaps the Enforcer with his magic—”
“I am not a conjurer, nor am I Pron-alban, a craftsman,” said Mosiah coldly. “I am not learned in boatbuilding, and I don’t think you want to wait while I study up on the subject.”
“I wasn’t asking you to build a full-blown sailing vessel,” Scylla returned, her eyes flashing in anger. “But I do think you might be able to use one of your fire spells to burn out the inside of a log so that we could make a canoe.”
“Canoe!” Mosiah snorted. “Perhaps we’ll use your head, Sir Knight. It must be hollow enough! Has it ever occurred to you that I will need to conserve all the Life I have left to extricate us from the clutches of this dragon, which—I have the feeling—isn’t going to be exactly charmed to see us.”
All this time Father Saryon had been attempting to say something. At last, he had his chance. “Do you have so little faith in me, to think I would bring you to a drowned cave?”
He smiled as he said the words, but we felt the rebuke, especially myself and Eliza.
“Forgive me, Father,” Eliza said, looking remorseful. “You are right. I should have had faith in you.”
“If not me, then at least in the Almin,” Saryon said, and he cast a glance at Mosiah which indicated that the elderly priest had also heard at least part of our former conversation.
Mosiah said nothing, made no apology. He stood stoic and silent, his arms crossed, his hands concealed in the black sleeves of his robes.
Saryon continued, adding briskly, “There is a path, over here. A rock ledge runs above the water level. This path leads to a corridor which takes us away from the river, down into the bowels of the cavern.”
The path along the riverbank made a meandering turn to the left, circling around a large willow, whose limbs and trunk sheltered part of the cave entrance from view. Saryon parted the swaying, leafy branches and there was the rock ledge, leading into the cavern.
Mosiah offered to go first and I thought perhaps this was his way of making amends for having been so short-tempered.
“Don’t follow me until you receive my signal,” he cautioned.
He entered the cave, taking the raven with him, and soon passed beyond our sight. I wondered why the bird had been invited to come, then realized—when it came flapping back out of the cave entrance, like an overlarge bat—that the raven was to be the messenger.
“Come ahead,” the bird croaked in a raspy voice. “One of you at a time.”
Eliza went next, entering the cavern stalwartly and without fear. My fear for her was enough for both of us, however. I watched her as long as I could, as if my will alone would hold her on that ledge and she must fall when she was out of my sight.
The raven had flown in with her and I waited in agony until the bird returned. “She is safe. Send the next.”
“You go, Reuven,” said Saryon, a smile in his eyes.
I could not believe I was actually eager to enter that cave, but now nothing could have kept me from it.
Chill damp air washed over me and I had to wait until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The light shining outside the cavern gleamed off the rushing water and lit my way for a short distance. The path was wide here and I was able to make fairly good time.
But then the path narrowed, until I could barely place my two feet side by side. The ledge rounded a bend in the wall, which cut off the light. I expected this part to be dark and was astonished to find the way bathed in a warm reddish glow. One of the stalactites overhead radiated light and warmth, as if the rock had been heated. I could see the path, a shimmering ribbon of gray above the black and shimmering water. The raven winged past me, returning to Mosiah.
I understood now why the Enforcer had offered to go first. He had walked the darkness in order to light the way for the rest of us.
The path began to rise and here it narrowed farther, until I was forced to place my back against the wall and shuffle sideways. I crept along, out of sight of my friends behind me, not yet