The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [132]
“Another move will end you,” a soft voice sang in the common tongue.
A drow woman stood over her. The stranger’s armor glowed with the heat of burning coals. Her eyes were surrounded by tattooed flames, and these glowed with their own inner light.
Lakashtai? Daine thought. This would be a good time for your paralysis trick.
I am weary, Daine. I do not have the power, and in truth, I am amazed I was able to immobilize them all before.
The three drow had spread out in a semicircle, and Shen’kar was slowly walking toward him. Previously Daine had encountered these elves in the dark of night. Now, with the dim sunlight filtering down through the canopy, Daine could truly see his enemy. They wore less armor than the elves of the burning city, and instead of metal they seemed to rely on chitin, leather, and wood. There were a few exceptions—their long knives, the mithral chain—but Daine wondered if these might have been scavenged from elsewhere; the hilts on the daggers didn’t seem to match the style of the blades, and he suspected that these drow had scavenged the weapons or inherited them from previous generations. The minimal armor and clothing they wore revealed their tattoos, showing that the practice covered the entire body. Where the firebinders had occasional bands of flame, these elves were covered with intricate designs, stark white against their black skin. Daine imagined that Lei would know all about these tattoos and their significance and could probably give an hour-long lecture on the topic, and it was then that he realized how much he missed her. The last few hours had been a constant race to stay ahead of death; only now did he realize how empty he felt inside.
He held his hands up in front of him. “We don’t want to fight,” he said.
“The half-blood is gone,” Shen’kar observed. He paused fifteen feet away from Daine, his weapon poised to throw. “How is that?”
“Ah, that.” Daine scratched his head. “Well, he turned us over to his relatives, and they tried to burn us to death in a maze.”
“Maze?”
“Invisible, shifting walls, kills you if you touch it?”
“Ah,” Shen’kar said, tilting his head to the side. “It is as we thought,” he said quietly, speaking to his warriors. “The firebinders still seek outlanders for the opening of the gate.”
“Then let us kill them before they aid the Keeper of the Gate,” said the chainmaster.
“That’s really not necessary,” Daine replied. “We’ve met, and we’re not on good terms. All we want to do is find our friends.”
Shen’kar spun back to face Daine, and it took a moment for Daine to understand the reason for his look of surprise. They were speaking Elvish! Daine had grown used to hearing the language—he’d forgotten that they didn’t expect him to understand it.
“How is it that you speak the language of the land?” Shen’kar had adjusted his grip on his boomerang, and his eyes were narrowed.
“I gave him the gift,” Lakashtai stepped forward. Her Elvish was steady and flawless, though the accent was slightly different than that of the drow. “He cannot speak your tongue, but he can understand your words.”
“Right. See? Speaking the Common?” Daine pointed out.
“He speaks the truth, however, whatever tongue he uses,” Lakashtai continued. “We mean you no harm, and we have no intention of aiding your enemy. We were betrayed by our companion, whose true loyalties were unknown to us. We know nothing of your culture or these others who you fight. We simply seek to find our companions and to locate a ruin known as the Monolith of Karul’tash.”
The elves were listening attentively and seemed calm enough—until the last word. The moment Lakashtai named their destination, the chain-wielder set his weapon whirling.
“Kulikoor!