The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [85]
“That’s higher than Seaside,” Drix remarked. “I wish I had my arms. And a book.”
“And a ladder,” Thorn said. They were standing at the base of a tunnel that rose up out of sight. Crates were scattered around them, and she noticed posts and hooks she recognized as the mooring and charging facilities for a small airship. A set of stairs rose up about forty feet off the ground, up to where someone would need to be to board the airship. But as for stairs or rungs rising to the top of the shaft itself, there was nothing.
She heard a sharp howl—the sound of a troll in agony. “If those guards can subdue four trolls, we don’t want to be here when they’re done,” Thorn said. “Any ideas?”
“I could probably weave a levitation charm into one of these crates,” Drix said thoughtfully, studying the boxes and pulling a few dragonshards out of a pouch.
“How long will that take?” Thorn said.
“I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t tried it before. Ten minutes? An hour?”
“I don’t think we have that sort of time,” she said, listening to the sounds of battle. While she could still hear the snarls of trolls in battle, she guessed that a few of them had already fallen, and it was possible the guards had another savant capable of stopping their regeneration. “Wait … what about that hole of yours?”
“What about it?” Drix said.
“If you were to climb inside, could I fold it up and carry you?”
Drix shook his head. “You can’t fold it up all the way when someone’s inside it. And if you spread it out, it’s got to be on some sort of surface.”
Thorn tried to remember that moment in the Mournland, Drix closing up the opening. She pulled the lid off of a crate and set it on the ground. “What about this? If you put the hole on it and climbed inside … would I be able to lift it?”
Drix looked at the lid dubiously. “I suppose so,” he said. “But how are you going to climb while you’re carrying me? Do you have an extra pair of arms?”
“Let me worry about that,” Thorn said. “You just get inside. Quickly.”
Drix spread the black cloth over the lid and lowered himself inside, disappearing into the dark opening. A moment later he drew it tighter until the black spot was merely the size of Thorn’s fist.
Thorn picked up the lid. It was heavier that it should have been, but she could manage it, and more important, the hole stayed fixed in one place. The last thing she needed was for it to slide off while she was climbing. Balancing the lid against a crate, she sorted through her pouches, finally finding a small vial. Flipping the cork off of it, she quickly swallowed the spider inside.
“Shalitar,” she whispered.
Thorn had already drawn on a considerable amount of magical energy, between invisibility and the changeling disguise. Grasping the power for the spider charm was like trying to hold water in her hands while she made a fist. She struggled with it, refusing to let it go, and at last she felt the energy flow into her. Grabbing the wooden lid and tucking it under an arm, she began to sprint up the shaft.
The spider charm had served her well over the years, saving her life in Sharn and Droaam. As long as the enchantment lasted, she could walk a sheer cliff as easily as cross the floor. It took only a few minutes before she could see the top of the shaft. Elation came with an entirely new challenge.
Of course, she thought. A door.
There was a massive double gate sealing the shaft, and it was closed. With time and tools, she likely could have opened it, but working one-handed, she’d never succeed before the spider charm failed.
She drew Steel. “What do you think? Can you carve a way through it?”
I see precious little to joke about, Steel said. Kundarak locking mechanisms and enchantments. Not a simple piece of work by any means.
Thorn sighed. “Some days I’d like to drown all dwarves on general principle.” The dwarves of House Kundarak bore the Mark of Warding, and she’d had to face their tricks and traps far too often.