Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [75]
As they waited for the bridge to settle into place, Kestrel found herself standing off to one side with Ghleanna. Corran and the others were engrossed in watching the bridge mechanism. She studied the paladin as he bantered easily with Jarial and Faeril-even Durwyn. “Why do you all follow him so faithfully?” she muttered, half to Ghleanna and half to herself.
Ghleanna followed her gaze. “He inspires confidence.”
Kestrel looked at the sorceress, puzzled. All Corran had ever inspired in her was frustration. “What do you mean?”
“When we go into battle. Just being near him-I am not afraid. Whatever odds we face, his presence makes me believe we can overcome them. I think it is because his faith is so strong.” She met Kestrel’s eyes. “Surely you feel it, too?”
Kestrel shook her head.
“Mayhap you have not let yourself.”
Kestrel returned her gaze to Corran. To hear Ghleanna talk, the paladin had some aura about him that everyone could sense but her. As a rogue, she prided herself on her perception, on her ability to read people accurately. Had she allowed herself to become blinded? Even so, Corran had his own failings to work on, whether the others could see them or not.
The party crossed the bridge and came eye to eye with the dark elves. The Kilseks’ faces held all the fierceness and arrogance of the Freths’, but they also bore a weariness and desperation that hadn’t been present among Razherrt’s men. Perhaps Nathlilik told the truth after all.
As Kestrel passed the drow leader, their gazes locked. Nathlilik’s red eyes burned with determination Kestrel knew she herself had never felt. “You really do hate the cult,” she murmured.
“My lifemate, Kedar, is among those enslaved,” Nathlilik said. “I will avenge him.”
* * * * *
They found the cult sorcerer exactly where Nathlilik had said to expect him.
They did not expect to find him dead.
“Ugh.” Kestrel grimaced at the sight of the corpse. The cultist lay wrapped in a cocoon of sticky white strands with only his head and neck exposed. Bite marks covered his face and throat, leaving the flesh in shreds. The expression in his frozen eyes suggested he’d died a slow, painful death. “What got him? Spiders?”
“Some kind of wild creature.” Jarial knelt beside the body to lift a long gold staff from where it had fallen near the sorcerer’s body. “Whatever it was, it left this behind.”
She crept closer for a better look. A G-shaped hook crowned the staff, within which a glowing yellow orb floated freely. “The Staff of Sunlight.”
“That’s my guess.”
Kestrel glanced around the rest of the room. A closed door stood opposite the one they had entered, and a table and chair sat in the corner. Several papers lay scattered on the table and floor. Ghleanna picked them up, scanning their content. “Most of these are useless notes, but this page is an order from Mordrayn. It says to eliminate the arraccat from the eastern section of the catacombs’ third level.”
“That’s where we are, isn’t it?” Durwyn asked.
Ghleanna nodded absently as she quoted from the order. “The creatures lair above the baelnorn and thus too close to our operations there.”
Corran took the paper from Ghleanna’s hand and studied it himself. “What’s an arraccat?”
“I think it’s a creature with eight eyes,” said Durwyn, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal, “and eight legs with really sharp claws… and a wide mouth with wicked fangs…”
Kestrel glanced at him in surprise, but his back was turned to her. “How do you know that, Durwyn?”
“Because I’m looking at one.”
The arraccat hissed and sprang toward Durwyn. The fighter jumped out of the way, allowing the rest of the companions their first look at the creature. A cross between a spider and a cat, it stood nearly as tall as Kestrel and twice as wide. Brown fur covered its feline head, long tail, and oval arachnid body.
Just as quickly as it had arrived, it disappeared.
Faeril swept the room with her gaze. “Where did it-” Suddenly, two more appeared in the room. “Jarial! Ghleanna! Behind you!”
Ghleanna spun around, her staff cutting