Prince of Lies - James Lowder [33]
"No drinks for you today," Perdix taunted.
Kaverin thrashed against his bonds frantically. His screams were gouts of fire.
"Yeah. None for you today," Af repeated, then gestured to Gwydion. "But you can take a drink if you want."
When the denizens stepped aside, Gwydion walked slowly toward fountain. A small silver cup lay at the statue's base, well out of Kaverin's reach. The sell-sword glanced at the denizens, but they merely watched without comment as he took the cup and filled it. He hesitated for a moment then brought the water to Kaverin's parched lips.
The red-haired shade flailed madly, knocking Gwydion onto his back. Over the laughter of the denizens, the sell-sword heard Kaverin curse vilely. "You bastard," he hissed, thin rivulets running down his chin. He spit the rest of the water at Gwydion. "They start all over again now – five years wasted! I didn't want the water. I didn't want your help. You'll pay-"
The flames rekindled in Kaverin's mouth, burning away the rest of his threat. Perdix lifted the cup and battered the imprisoned shade with it, then tossed it down and hopped to Gwydion's side. "He'll never forget that you made his torture worse," the denizen said flatly. "Of course, you won't forget it either."
Impatiently Af gestured for Perdix to follow. "Enough of the civics lesson," he grumbled. "We've got to get to the Night Serpent, remember?" Shaking his lupine head, Af slithered across the plaza, into another alley.
At Perdix's prompting, Gwydion struggled to his feet, then set off at a jog after the brutish denizens. He soon found himself padding through grim streets crowded with the faceless, emotionless shades of the elder False. The sight of so many damned to an eternity without hope or love or fear sickened Gwydion, but there was something about his surroundings that preyed in more subtle ways on the sell-sword's mind. The buildings, the streets, even the humid, stinking air seemed just as cold and hopeless as the souls of the damned. Something inside Gwydion warned him the city itself would try to leach away any true emotions he would feel if he shook off the shroud of despair that had settled over him.
At last the boroughs gave way to an uneven field of rubble, beyond which lay the city's heart -BoneCastleitself.
Gwydion and the denizens struggled through the shattered stone and twisted metal to the mouth of a vast cave, near the oozing river that served as the castle's moat. Stalactites and stalagmites lined the gaping hole like stone teeth. Orange steam hissed between the jagged points in a steady, sibilant flow, and dark water from the River Slith pooled around the entrance. The ground underfoot was marshy and foul.
Af clamped a hand on Gwydion's shoulder. "Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut," the denizen ordered gruffly.
Gwydion watched as Perdix flew to the cavern's mouth and called out. "Envoys from Lord Cyric," the little denizen announced, his voice quavering noticeably. "Mistress Dendar?"
A grating sound echoed from the cave as something enormous shifted position. Two eyes appeared in the darkness. They were the sickly yellow-black of rotten eggs, with slitlike pupils. "What do you want with the Night Serpent?" she hissed.
"Lord Cyric wishes us to search your cave," Perdix explained meekly, crouching behind a stalagmite. "There is a shade hiding-"
"Ah. He is hunting Kelemvor again, is he?" the thing sighed.
Gwydion thought he saw a flash of blood-drenched fangs in the cave's murk. The sight stirred some vague horror in him, resurrected some long-forgotten terror.
"Your master fears his old friend – or was he a foe?" The Night Serpent chuckled. "I don't think Cyric himself remembers."
"Lord Cyric fears nothing," Af growled.
"I have reason to know otherwise." A square