The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [46]
Meisha felt strands rip from her scalp as he dragged her backward. Stone sctaped het skin, and she lost her grip on her dagger. She kicked and clawed until she felt empty air beneath her head.
The leader drew his dagger and straddled her, letting her head and upper totso fall free over the lip of the chasm.
Immediately, Meisha felt the blood rush to het head, her muscles tightening painfully as she tried to balance herself above the abyss. He snatched one of her flailing arms and brought the back of her hand down in a whip crack on a protruding stone.
Meisha screamed, her hand flopping uselessly in her attacker's. He laid the broken wrist straight against her side and waited while the other pair of men helped the woman ovet the lip of the chasm. She smiled at Meisha's white face.
"Stay still," the leader advised when Meisha tried to move. "See to Watin and Tetshus," he told the test of the group.
"I'm still kicking." Picking himself up, the halfling lit a torch. He bent over the wizard Meisha had stabbed and shook his head. "He's dead, Aazen."
The leader sighed. "Retrieve the chest. They will have it waiting."
When the group moved off down one of the tunnels, the leader turned his attention to Meisha. "If you fight me, I'll stand, and your weight will pull you ovet the edge," he said. "Your hand is broken. You can cast no spell without great pain. Do you understand?"
But Meisha's attention was drawn to a pool of blood steadily spreading around the man's boots. The sting at her back had been a stab wound. She was bleeding to death while the bastard sat atop her like a king on a throne. Flames blazed in her eyes, an awakening of raw, sorcerous power.
The leader leaned back. Meisha statted to slide towatd the darkness. She tried to finish the spell, but the strength slowly ebbed from her body, replaced by a numbing cold. She couldn't concentrate. Her spell died half-formed on her lips.
"I might heal you," the leader said, steadying her, "if you answer my questions."
Meisha had the will to chuckle. "If you heal me, I'll kill you."
The man seemed unconcerned. "Who are you?"
Meisha didn't answet. If she timed it right, she might be able to lock het knees around his waist, pull him back into the chasm. She could at least take the bastard with her.
A sharp blow across her cheek forced Meisha's attention back-to her murderer's face.
"Varan Ivshar," the leader tried again, and Meisha's narrowing world came statkly back into focus. "So you do know the wizard," the man said, seeing her reaction. "I hoped so."
He knew of Vatan. Meisha licked dry lips. "Where is he?" she asked.
The man didn't answer. Meisha squirmed, moaning. The tautness of her muscles would only cause her to bleed out faster. The man eased back, drawing her away from the hole. He knew she was too weak to fight anymote.
"What happened to the wizard?" he asked, watching het carefully.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Meisha said, her expression unfeigned. It seemed to satisfy him.
The man rose to his feet, gazing down at her indecisively. "I'd hoped you'd be able to offer me more," he said. He reached down and his fingers brushed the silver pin of the Harpers. "I don't believe I can justify letting you live." He listened as voices echoed from the tunnel. "They won't allow it."
Meisha waited, expecting him to stab her again, or push her body over the edge with his boot. He did neither, instead turning his attention to the group re-entering the cavetn. One of the men carried a large chest held together by rusted metal bands.
"Warin's spell is gone," said the halfling. "We can't levitate the chest. It'll take a bit to secure it by rope."
"You have ten breaths," the leader said.
"Take me that long to tie it off, won't it? Gods only know what'll happen if it falls, Aazen."
The leadei nodded but did not look pleased; "You're right, of coutse." He pointed at Meisha. "Cast the spell, and you will live."
"How did you find this place?" It had taken her years of research