Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [38]
Searing pain tore through her right thigh. The wound burned, its sting worse than any inflicted by a mundane weapon. Kestrel sucked in her breath, waiting for two more.
Jarial’s magic, however, had distracted the cult sorcerer at the moment he took aim. The other two conjured missiles hit her opponent, who yelped as both projectiles caught him in the back. She seized the momentary advantage and slashed his throat.
As the cultist sank to the ground, she quickly took stock of the situation around her. Durwyn had just felled one of his opponents. The other gasped for breath and swung his halberd with undisciplined desperation. The blinded fighter lay in a puddle of his own blood. Corran’s remaining foe was backed against a wall. The three mages appeared locked in a sorcerer’s contest, racing to see who could cast the next spell.
Kestrel hurled her second dagger at the cult sorcerer. The next spell would not be his.
The dagger caught the evil wizard in the calf. Kestrel muttered an oath under her breath. She was injured and tired. Her aim had been poor. The strike provided enough distraction, however, that the cult sorcerer lost his concentration, and Ghleanna completed her spell first. Bursts of magical energy hissed toward the injured spellcaster, at last finishing him off. Durwyn and Corran defeated their foes at about the same time, the paladin landing a blow on the head of his opponent and the warrior removing the head of his.
In the ensuing silence, they all took a moment to catch their breaths. Kestrel glanced around the chamber warily, half-expecting another cult sorcerer to leap out from the shadows. She couldn’t even look at Emmeric’s incinerated, broken body lying in a heap across the room. Gods, but she hated wizards.
Her leg burned where the cult sorcerer’s missile had hit it. She bent over to examine the injury, anticipating a bloody open wound. Fortunately, her armor had slowed down the missile and thus prevented it from entering too deep. The magical energy appeared to have cauterized the area. Her thigh hurt like hell, but it would heal.
A single voice broke the stillness. “Uh… anyone still out there?” Nottle’s muffled words came from a nearby cluster of strongboxes and crates.
“Yes, Nottle,” Corran replied.
“Thanks be to Yondalla! I’m gittin’ cramped in here. Lemme out!”
Kestrel left to the others the task of releasing the foolish halfling, instead making her way around ransacked coffers and trunks to Emmeric. Nottle had cost them a valuable comrade-in-arms and her a potential ally against Corran’s tyranny. Only Emmeric had agreed that they could not afford this detour, a point he’d lost his life proving. Would the others listen to reason now, or would she eventually end up as dead as the fighter?
She tried to walk normally but found herself hobbling. Each step made the wound throb. Damn that sorcerer to the Abyss! Damn Nottle! Damn Corran, too-she blamed the paladin for the fact that they were down here at all.
Until she reached Emmeric’s remains, she harbored a tiny, unrealistic hope that the warrior somehow clung to life. That hope evaporated as soon as she got a close look at him. His body was burned so badly that it scarcely looked human, little flesh yet clung to his charred frame. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
Movement behind her indicated that someone had followed her. Two someones, judging from the familiar sound of their footsteps. Corran and Ghleanna.
“Poor Emmeric,” the half-elf whispered as she got a look the fighter. “I’d thought maybe…”
“Yeah, me too,” Kestrel said.
The two women fell silent as Corran knelt over their fallen companion. The paladin gently untangled Emmeric’s skeletal limbs and repositioned his body so that it appeared to rest more comfortably. Then he rummaged through a few open chests until he found a velvet cloth to drape over the fighter. Corran never