Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [42]
Suddenly Liriel was pulled from her body. There was a moment's bright, white pain, a quick wrenching as she was torn from the mortal world, and then…
Liriel had glimpsed the Abyss, had viewed all the lower planes through the scrying portals common among the priestesses of Lloth. The gray, mist-filled landscape before her was like nothing she had ever seen or, more precisely, like nothing she had ever felt. There was little to be seen here, yet all around her she felt the invisible passages that led to untold realms. The drow sent out her thoughts, seeking the sea elf's spirit.
There was a moment's touch. The exhilaration of success filled the drow's mind, and she urged her probing touch to go still farther. To her astonishment, there was nowhere to go.
Liriel's heightened senses perceived that something beyond the natural order had occurred. She encountered not the will of a god, but the art of a sorcerer. The spirit had indeed left the sea elf's body, but it was trapped somewhere on this plane. The drow deepened her concentration, narrowing her search to seek the spirit in the world she knew.
Suddenly Liriel stood at the gate of some terrible limbo. She felt the utter helplessness of the being she sought, felt the sudden surge of hope as the spirit felt her touch, felt the unseen eyes that pleaded with her for release. The drow's free-spirited heart recoiled from the terror she encountered, and instinctively she drew away.
i find you, Liriel promised silently as she eased back toward the mortal realm. I find a way to release you all. "Damn female. Knew you was a part of this mess."
The voice, grim and triumphant, jolted Liriel from her trance. She spun to see ibn watching her and only then realized she had spoken part ofher promise aloud. So deep in meditation had she been that she hadn't heard the first mate's approach. He closed in now, his hand on the hilt of his knife.
instinct took over. Liriel flung out a hand, fingers spread wide. Strands of magic flew from her fingertips, spun themselves into a giant web that spanned the hold. The blast of power caught ibn, hurling him backward along with the magical trap. He hung there, bobbing slightly, stuck to the web like some enormous insect.
Liriel expected sullen wrath, or even a string of the colorful curses that were common aboard the ship. To her astonishment, ibn looked pleased despite his ignominious situation.
"Attacked a ship's officer, you did. You're as good as dead," he promised her with dark satisfaction.
The memories of elves are long indeed, but to most of them the lost city of Ascarle had faded into the fabric of lore and legend. Many generations of elves had come and gone since the day Ascarle had disappeared-swept away by the rush of melting ice, then buried beneath the waves in the age when the great glaciers gave way to the northern seas. Few suspected that the glories of Ascarle continued, hidden deep beneath the waters off the northern coast ofTrisk, a small island in the remote archipelago known as the Purple Rocks.
Few of those long-ago elves would recognize Ascarle now. Yes, most of the buildings remained intact-wondrous, gleaming structures magically grown from crystal and red coral. Even buried beneath the waves, the city looked as if it had been sculpted from fire and ice. Air still filled many of the buildings and the covered walkways that linked them. Treasures from ancient cultures furnished the luxurious rooms. Indeed,