Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [75]
The kapoacinth swooped down to a marble walkway that ended in a gleaming arch. Its talons opened, and Rethnor dropped heavily onto the path. With a sharp slap of its barbed tail, the creature sped him through the magic doorway. Rethnor stumbled through the portal and emerged in an air-filled room. The entire underwater journey had taken little more than a minute or two, but the shock of it had quickened his heart and emptied his lungs. Another moment more would have been too much for him. Yet even as he dragged in much-needed air, he placed his one remaining hand on his sword hilt and surveyed the room for potential danger.
Rethnor found himself in a place of surpassing beauty, an antechamber that would have graced any palace in twenty realms. The crystal walls whorled upward in intricate patterns to the peaked ceiling, giving the impression that the room was contained within an enormous gem. Exquisite marble of pink, green, and white was inlaid in exquisite designs on the floor and walls, and rare statues graced the alcoves. Most fair of all was the servant who came to greet Rethnor, a woman of the North, dressed in silken robes that matched the pale gold of her hair. In a strangely toneless voice she bade him follow, her movements wooden as she led the way through ever more wondrous rooms.
Unaccustomed to such splendor, the High Captain was keenly aware of his sodden clothing and bedraggled appearance. He had little thought to spare for such petty emotions, for nothing in this unnatural place felt right, and his warriors instincts screamed out a warning. As the beautiful slave led him down a long passage toward the audience chamber, he strove to still his mind and prepare his wits for the encounter to come.
But nothing could have prepared Rethnor for what awaited. The vast room was dominated by a marble dais and a crystal throne the color of pale amethysts. Seated upon this was a regal-if hideous-creature. A silver diadem rested on its high-domed lavender head, and the four tentacles that made up the lower half of its face writhed in sinuous, graceful patterns.
Well met, Rethnor; intoned a familiar, feminine voice in his mind.
The High Captain gaped at the strange creature, unable to hide his distaste. This was the regal woman who had guided so many of his recent plans? Was it possible that this malformed beast was the famed head of the Kraken Society?
We thought you might be more comfortable conversing with a form similar to your own, the illithid explained. In answer to your rather tactless, if unspoken, question, i rule this place as Regent. Do not underestimate my power; or that of those i serve.
Rethnors left arm jerked up to one side, without his will and of its own accord, revealing the stump where his sword hand had once been.
We see you have been careless with the scrying ring we gave you, the illithid continued. It is well we had the foresight to provide you with a second device. But let us speak on matters of import. You have come to seek assistance. We are ready to provide it.
A silent summons from the illithid brought two more, even stranger creatures into the room. A glasslike nymph glided toward the throne, and at her side stalked a female drow.
Rethnor had no opinions on nymphs, but he held a Northman's dislike of elves, drow or otherwise. They were scrawny, wispy, ugly things, to his mind more like shadows than real creatures in the way they flitted about, utterly despicable for their effete dependence upon magic. But this female was more substantial than any elf he'd ever laid eyes on, with a tread you could hear and a solid form that approached human proportions. She was plump and curvy enough to draw the eye of any hearty male, but there was not a bit of softness about her. The drow's eyes were red, as hard and cold as rubies, and bright with feral intelligence. On the dark canvas of her face was painted barely