The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [31]
The orbs could be hurt. But whatever these spirits were, they were far from helpless. The two remaining lights orbited Xu, then in the blink of an eye they dashed forward, passing through the dark elf. Light flared and electricity crackled. The smell of storm and burnt flesh filled the air, and while Xu’sasar did not cry out in pain, the stagger in her step was proof enough of her agony. While one of the spirits continued to circle the wounded girl, the second darted at Daine. It was a streak of pure energy, and between the speed and brilliance it was almost impossible to see. Daine held his ground. He still had his hand on Lei’s shoulder, and without thinking he tightened his grip. Her presence filled him with comforting warmth, and that strength seemed to flow into his blade.
He made his attack at the same instant as Lei, launching into a long lunge just as she lashed out with the darkwood staff. Both blows struck home, and the orb shattered into a thousand golden shadows. He felt a burst of joy and glanced at Lei. Her staff had fallen silent, and her smile lit a fire in his heart. But there was no time to bask in such emotion.
Turning his attention back to the struggle, he caught a brief glimpse of the third orb as it circled the rock Daine and Lei were using as a shield. Xu’sasar was already in pursuit, and while he had misgivings—could it be leading us into an ambush?—Daine darted after her, drawing his dagger and hurling himself forward. He turned the corner as swiftly as possible, both blades at the ready, poised to strike against the foe.
He immediately regretted the decision.
Daine had expected to battle the floating light. He’d considered that there could be a number of the ghostly orbs, a squadron of spirits lying in wait. For all that the lights had hurt Xu’sasar, they seemed fragile enough, and Daine was ready to deal with more of them.
The scorpion was a surprise.
Daine couldn’t understand how the creature had come so close without their seeing it. It was the size of a wagon. Its massive pincers looked strong enough to cut a man in two, and its stinger was a long spear glistening with crimson venom. Pale opalescent plates that seemed to capture the moonlight covered its body, thicker than any armor Daine had ever worn. Its tail was raised high above its head, and raw panic filled Daine’s heart—sheer, primal terror at the sight of this arachnid monstrosity. He staggered back a few steps before he managed to force down the fear, mastering his emotions and raising his blades. His mind was already racing, trying to come up with tactics that might let them overcome this monster.
And then it spoke.
“You have done well, warriors,” it said. “But your trials have just begun.”
The night whispered to Xu’sasar, the barest wind stirring the dew-flecked sedge. The humans she followed paid it no heed. They continued to mutter in their barbarous tongue, oblivious to the wonders that surrounded them. She felt the breeze, and she knew it for what it was—the breath of the higher spirits, and a warning. She listened, trying to discern the words of the wind, but all she found was a vague sense of unease, of danger ahead.
This pleased her.
Xu’sasar’s memories were a patchwork of strife and struggle. Her people were always on the path of new prey, and there was never a shortage of enemies. She was still riding her mother’s back when she’d seen her first giant. The brute’s strength was no match for the speed and skill of Xu’sasar’s kin, and she’d felt only joy as her mother danced through the motions of battle. She learned the dance herself as soon as she could walk. She’d chased tilxin birds through the jungle canopy, leaping from bough to bough to keep pace with the tiny creatures. She’d fought giants on her own and faced firebinders,