Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [71]
He moved to the mouth of the tunnel and stared across the vast cavern that held the Moondeep Sea. The moon had set some time ago, its reflection vanishing from the dark surface of the water. Only a handful of the Tears of Selыne remained. One by one, those too vanished.
Q'arlynd was well and truly alone.
He stroked his chin. Cavatina had told him to wait there until moonrise. It had been couched as a suggestion, but her hand had brushed against her holy symbol as she spoke; that must have been when the geas was cast. If he was stuck there until the next moonrise, he might as well use the time wisely. A second experiment was in order. Qiluй had, very pointedly, mentioned his skill at teleportation. Perhaps she hoped that he'd still be able to manage it, even there. That was certainly worth finding out.
He drew a deep breath-preparing himself, as he would for a freefall from one of Ched Nasad's ruined streets. He chose a spot just a few paces away, in the center of the tunnel. Concentrating on it, he spoke the words of his spell.
He slammed into a wall face-first. Pain flared in his nose-it felt like he'd broken it a second time-and warm blood slid from his nostrils. Bruised, embarrassed, he pushed himself roughly away from the wall. The Faerzress was, he noted, glowing more brightly than it had a moment before. A faint violet smudge had appeared on the pale blue, in the spot where his body had struck the wall. It looked, he thought wryly, like the dent his body would have made had it struck a soft patch of ground from a great height. He could even see the imprint of one outflung hand.
He watched as the violet glow slowly faded. A moment later, the Faerzress was back to its usual, pale-blue color.
Q'arlynd wiped his nose gingerly. That was enough experimentation for one night, he decided. He'd been lucky. His nose had indeed been re-broken, but at least the rest of his body was in one piece. He could have wound up a frayed, bloody mess after the teleportation mishap.
He sighed. It would be a long, tiresome wait for moonrise, but with the first glint of moonlight on the underground sea, he'd be out of there.
He unfastened his belt and settled into a crosslegged position on the floor. He laid the belt across his knees and passed a hand over it, dispelling the magic that concealed the writing on the broad band of leather. His spells were written in a script so tiny it was almost impossible to read-he normally relied upon the crystal to magnify them-but the words were still crisp. The dunking in water hadn't blurred them.
Q'arlynd read, refreshing his spells. The night dragged on to its end. In the World Above, the sun rose, made its slow passage through the heavens, then set. The first of the evening stars sparkled against a purpling sky.
In the Underdark, in the tunnel where Q'arlynd waited, all was silent and dark-save for the Faerzress that shimmered across the rock next to him. Fortunately, no more undead came creeping or slithering along. The wait, though long, had been uneventful. Q'arlynd straightened as a thin wedge of light glinted on the water: one horn of the crescent moon, rising in the surface realms above.
"Come on," he said impatiently. "Come on." He paced back and forth to warm himself. The long wait had left a chill in his bones. "A little further. Just a little more…"
As Selыne shimmered fully into view on the Moondeep's surface, Q'arlynd heard a splash. A head broke the surface of the water some distance from shore-a head with sky-black skin and white hair. Probably the priestess who had returned to the temple with the body.
She twisted about, looking disoriented.
Q'arlynd stepped to the edge of the tumbled rock and waved. "Chizra!" he shouted. "I'm over…"
The words died in his throat as the swimmer turned toward him. That wasn't the priestess, or even a drow. It was too big, with strangely articulated arms and things protruding from its chest that churned the water like writhing snakes.
Q'arlynd stepped back into the corridor, rendering himself invisible the moment he