Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [45]
"I pray your pardon, lady. I have hurt you." His hands fell away, and he scrambled to rise, rocks rolling all about. He fell back weakly.
Shandril put her hand out to him. "Lie still! Rocks must be moved first. Your feet are covered. Do they hurt?" She clambered past him as she spoke, wondering to herself if it would be safest to leave him helpless, unable to reach her. But no; she could trust this one. She must trust him. The rocks lifted easily. They were many, but small.
"I-can feel nothing. My feet seem… a little bruised, but no worse, I hope." He smiled wanly. "Lady, what is your name?"
"I-Shandril Shessair," she replied. "What do they call you?"
"Narm," he replied, moving one foot experimentally.
It felt intact, so he rolled over to help her free his other foot. "How came we here?"
Shandril shrugged. "I ran. The fight went on, and-was that you following me?"
"Yes," he replied, grinning.
After a moment she grinned back. "I see," she said.
"Why?"
Narm looked down at his empty hands for a moment and then into her eyes. "I would know you. Lady Shandril," he said slowly. "Since first I saw you at the inn, I have… wanted to know you." Their eyes held for a long silence.
Shandril looked away first, reaching to take up the glowing globe and cradle it in her arms. She looked at him over it, eyes in shadow, long hair veiling her face. Narm opened his mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked, and then closed it. She was looking at him steadily.
"The cavern fell in upon the others," she said abruptly. "We have been buried, walled off."
Narm sat up, heart sinking. "Is there no way out?"
Shandril shrugged. "I was looking for one when I saw you," she said. "Can your art open a way?"
Narm shook his head. "That is beyond me. But I can dig, gods willing," he said with a nod. "Where did you leave off looking?"
Shandril went forward with the globe. "Here," she said. Slowly, carefully, they moved along the stones, shining the globe high and low. But they found no gap. Together they continued on around the walls of their prison. Reaching their starting point, they straightened wearily.
"What now?" Shandril sighed.
"I need to sit down," Narm said. He selected a large, curving boulder and sat, patting the rock beside him.
Slowly, Shandril moved to join him. Narm swung a battered sack from his shoulder and pulled it open.
"Are you hungry?"
"Yes," Shandril replied. Narm handed her a thick sausage wrapped in oiled cloth, a partially eaten loaf of round, hard bread, and a leather water skin.
"What is it?"
"Only water, I fear."
"Good enough for me," she said, taking a long swig.
They ate in silence for a time.
"Who was that sorceress?" Narm asked suddenly.
"She called herself Symgharyl Maruel, or The Shadowsil," Shandril said. She told him of the Company of the Bright Spear, and of finding herself imprisoned in the cavern, of how the bone had brought her to Myth Drannor, and The Shadowsil to this place. She stopped her speech suddenly and eyed Narm. "Your turn."
Narm swallowed a lump of bread quickly and shrugged. "There is little to tell. I am an apprentice of the art, come from Cormyr with my master, Marimmar, to seek out the lost magic of Myth Drannor. When we reached the ruined city, we met several Knights of Myth Drannor, who warned us away from the city, speaking of devils. But my master thought their counsel false, and he tried to enter the city by another route." Narm paused and took a pull from the skin. "Marimmar was slain. I would have died as well, had not another pair of knights rescued me. They took me to Shadowdale, where Lord Mourngrym lent me an escort back to Myth Drannor. I came upon you and was nearly killed. The knights healed me, and I… persuaded them to come through the gate with me to… rescue you."
They looked at each other.
"I thank you, Narm," Shandril said slowly. "I'm sorry I ran from you and led you into this." Their eyes met. Both knew they would probably die here.
Shandril felt a sudden, raw regret that she had found a man so friendly and so attractI’ve too late. They