Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [46]
"I'm sorry I drove you here," Narm replied softly. "I am not much of a warrior, I fear."
Wordlessly Shandril passed him the bread and clasped his forearm as the company clasped those of their equals. "Maybe not," she said after a time, desire stirring within her, "and yet I live because of you."
Narm took her hand and raised it slowly to his lips, eyes on hers. She smiled, then, and kissed him on impulse.
It was a long time before they parted and looked at each other. "More sausage?" Narm asked hastily.
And then they both laughed nervously. They ate sausage and bread, huddled together in the gentle light of the globe. "How came you by this globe?"
Narm finally asked.
Shandril shrugged. "It was here" she said, "with the other treasure. I know not what it is, but it has served me as a lamp. Without it I wouldn't have found you."
"Yes," Narm said, "and my thanks for that." The look in his eyes made Shandril blush again. "You asked about the dracolich. This is the first time I've ever seen one, but my master told me of them. They are undead creatures, created by their own evil and a foul potion, just as a fell mage becomes a lich. A depraved cult of men worship such creatures. They believe that 'dead dragons shall rule the world entire,' and they work to serve these dead dragons so that they will be favored when this prophecy comes to pass."
"How does one serve a dragon, save as a meal?"
"By providing the potions and care it needs to achieve unlife," Narm replied. "After that, they provide spells and treasures. Servants also provide a dracolich with information and much flattery when visiting."
He fell silent as they ate. After a time, Shandril asked quietly, "Narm, how great is your art?"
Narm shook his head. "Feeble, lady. Too feeble. My master was a capable mage, though I have never seen him hurl magics as the Lady Jhessail of the knights did, back there." He nodded at the darkness where the rocks had fallen to wall them in. "I know a few spells of use, a few more that are but tricks or little things used to hone the will or the nimble-ness of mind and fingers, and the names of a few who may tutor me further. My master is no more, and as a mage, I am almost nothing without him."
"Something more than nothing rescued me,"
Shandril countered. "You did, and your magic was strong and swift when I needed it. I-I will stand with you and trust in your art."
Narm looked at her for a time and laid his hand on hers. "I thank you," he said. "It is enough, indeed."
They embraced, holding each other fiercely in the near-darkness. "We may die here," Narm said abruptly, in a low voice.
"Aye," Shandril said. " 'Adventure,' they call it."
Abruptly, from the back of the cavern, they both heard clearly the click and clatter of a falling stone.
They fell silent, listening, but there were no more sounds of moving rock. They exchanged worried glances, and then Shandril picked up the globe and held it high. Its radiance fell across the rocks but revealed nothing. Narm stepped carefully toward the wall of rock, dagger in hand. He walked about for some time.
"Nothing, my lady," Narm said, returning. "But I found this for you." He held out a pendant of electrum wrought in the shape of a falcon in flight, set with garnets for its eyes. She took it slowly, smiled, and hooked it about her neck.
"My thanks," she said simply. "I can only gI’ve you coins in return. I am sitting on a heap of them, and one at least has fallen into my boot."
"Why not?" he said. "If die we must, why not die rich?"
"Narm," Shandril said very softly, "could you not gather coins later?"
Narm turned and looked at her. Shandril held out her arms toward him. When he knelt by her, he found she was shaking. "Lady?" he asked, holding her.
"Please, Narm," she whispered, dragging him down atop her, her hands moving with sudden urgency.
Narm, surprised, found that she was very strong. His discarded pack fell across the globe, and they spoke no more for a very long time.
Later, they lay face-to-face on their sides in the darkness,