Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [110]
Her feet were sore from her long walk across the hard, salty plain and she was tired of having to constantly carry her sword. Daffir had boots and belt. She took both. She hacked off the bottom of the leather sheath that held his dagger, modifying it to accommodate her sword. Then she cinched the belt around her waist. The wizard's clothes were a ruined, bloody mess, so she left them on his body. She picked up his eye lenses and mirror and tied them into a piece of cloth, then knotted this around his wrist. If the priestesses back at the Promenade succeeded in reviving Daffir, he would need them.
These preparations made, she seized Daffir by the ankles and dragged him over to the portal. Rolling him into it wouldn't be a very dignified way to get him back, but she couldn't very well carry him. If there were hostile creatures on the other side of the portal, she'd need both hands free to fight.
With a grunt, she rolled Daffir into the hole.
His body vanished.
Cavatina drew her sword and held it in both hands. "Watch over me, Eilistraee," she whispered. "Guide my steps."
She leaped into the portal.
"Down" was suddenly behind her. She landed flat on her back on a cold stone floor, knocking the wind from her lungs. She scrambled to her feet and whirled, her sword humming a deadly warning. She was in a room, next to a quicksilver pool-a room dominated by a goat-headed statue twice her height.
A statue of the demon prince Orcus.
"Eilistraee!" she cried. "Shield me!"
Moonlight streaked with shadow erupted from her skin, washing out the fainter light of the Faerzress-impregnated walls, ceiling and floor.
The statue didn't move. It was, it would seem, mere stone. But appearances could be deceiving.
She stood directly in front of an arch that led into darkness, and a second arch stood on the other side of the statue. Across the room was a slab of studded iron that looked like a door. She backed away from the statue, half turned to the door, and searched for a handle with one hand.
There wasn't one.
"Looks like there's only one way out of here," she whispered, speaking to Daffir's corpse as much as to herself. "That other portal. I just wish you were still alive to tell me where it leads."
She dragged his body in front of the second arch. She lay her sword on the floor, tucked her hands under his body, and started to roll him into the portal. Before she could finish, she felt something tug on Daffir. Alarmed, she yanked the body back-hard enough to reveal hands clutching Daffir's robe. Each of the dark fingers was adorned with a silver ring.
A Crone!
Cavatina snatched up her sword. As the silver-ringed hands yanked Daffir back through the portal, she thrust through it, aiming for the spot where the Crone would be. The sweet peal of her sword was muffled as it passed into what lay beyond. She felt the weapon strike home. She yanked it back; the blade was bright with blood.
"Eilistraee!" she cried.
Sword singing, she charged into the portal.
* * * * *
Q'arlynd landed on a stone floor with an ankle-jolting thud. Thick, hot smoke surrounded him, blown by a roaring wind. Beside him, Eldrinn staggered sideways, his hand tearing out of Q'arlynd's grasp. Q'arlynd heard the clatter of the staff falling and rolling away. He could see nothing, however. The smoke was too thick, and it stabbed into his throat and lungs each time he breathed. Tears streamed from his eyes.
"Eldrinn!" he coughed. "The staff!"
He heard more rattling.
"Got it," the boy wheezed back.
Through the smoke, Q'arlynd saw a blue-green glow that shone brightly from the floor and walls. Faerzress? Worry flooded him. Had he landed off target? Or had the Faerzress there simply grown that strong?
"Someone's in the corridor," a husky female voice cried from somewhere to Q'arlynd's left. "Inside the smoke!"
"Alexa?" Eldrinn shouted back. "Is