Stardeep_ The Dungeons - Bruce R. Cordell [43]
Defending Thormud, she'd rarely drawn the Blade Cerulean. That was a good decade, or as good as she could have hoped for. Alcohol fully claimed her, but she found refuge in a surly attitude and foul language.
As it always did, the world intruded. Kiril accompanied the geomancer on his last escapade, into the Desert of Desolation. Thormud followed a trace of evil infecting the eatth. She and the geomancet, and a few othets met along the way, cleansed that infection; an Imaskaran war relic was kept safely inactive.
That triumph had awakened something in her. It was the first truly good thing she'd accomplished since her personal downfall. Her victory, the sense she'd achieved something noble, instilled in her a seed of hope.
Hope made people act funny.
She decided she would return to Aglarond, perhaps even to Stardeep, or at least to the hidden realm of Sildeyuir where her people dwelt. She said her good-byes to the geomancer. He gave her a gift-his tiny ctystalline dragonet named Xet. Xet bore the shape of a dragon, but he lacked the size and courage to match.
Kiril accepted the gift with her typical lack of grace and then departed, Xet flitting and chiming in her wake.
She headed northwest, toward Aglarond. The dragonet kept her company on the long trek, she had to admit. But as she approached her homeland, dread and shame reemerged, and the memory of her recent success faded.
Hope proved too hard to hold. Habits cultivated over a decade toppled hope's facade.
Almost at the border of the great Yuirwood, she paused in Laothkund. A few days became a few tendays, then a few months. She lost her conviction. She foundered.
Until now.
A ray of sunlight briefly flashed from one of Xet's facets directly into her eyes, startling het out of het reverie. She excoriated the brittle-brained creature. Not that the dragonet cared. Xet seemed determined to remain with her.
Like Gage.
Behind Kiril, the man doggedly brought up the rear. She'd discouraged him, called him terrible names, and even left without telling him. But the clinging bastard discovered her plan and joined her. Her protestations didn't move him except to produce a smile, which only infuriated her. He said he wanted to help.
Right, that's what motivated all thieves, and she knew Gage well enough to know his profession. Still… he had returned the sword-a selfless act accomplished at some personal cost. Gage didn't speak of it, but she sometimes caught him looking at his left hand-it had once borne a dark gauntlet nearly twin to the one on his right. Yet he stayed with her, even now. While she didn't want to dismiss Gage's offer of aid outright, Kiril guessed he merely craved excitement. Hadn't the thrill of danger been the lure and glue that so often drew them both together in the taverns of Laothkund?
Though a companion on the trail wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Kiril snorted. After being so disagreeable when she first realized he followed, admitting she was glad to have his company was the last thing her ego would allow. But it was true. In a very real way, she doubted she would've made it as far as the edge of Laothkund, let alone to the border of the Yuirwood without him. Last night, as heavy clouds stole away the day's remaining light and snow began to fall, they pitched their tents beneath the outer eaves. This morning, they moved northwest through yellow pines, towaid the Causeway.
The image of Nangulis, as he had been before his self-sacrifice, bloomed fully realized into her consciousness, instantly becoming the sole focus of het attention. Not fot the first time.
Nangulis! Tall, silver haired, with dark eyes