The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [145]
Understood. She was already fiddling with a shard of clear glass she had pulled from her pouch.
“Let’s go!”
Daine and Pierce ran for the entrance. Pierce went out first, and he loosed an arrow the instant he was out of the passage; judging from the cry that followed, the victim was at least a hundred feet away. Slipping up to the mouth of the tunnel, Daine peered around the edge.
Over a dozen drow had made it through the deadly wards, and the burning banner still twisted in the wind. In the lead were two familiar figures. Gerrion brandished a blazing sword in one hand and wore a pulsing buckler on the other. He stood next to an older elf wearing an iron crown—the high priest Holuar, and Holuar was pointing right at them.
“Get back!” Pierce spun sideways, smashing into Daine and throwing him back into the tunnel. A gout of flame struck the entrance, and for an instant Pierce was outlined by fire.
“Pierce!”
The warforged staggered forward a few steps. “I will survive, captain, but I fear that the priest can bring that power to bear again if we reveal ourselves.”
Daine shook his head. “Everyone down the tunnel! Lei, I hope you’ve got something to slow them down.”
“Yes, captain,” she called, as Daine and Pierce ran toward her. “Just a little farther, and … this’ll do.”
Turning around, she flung the crystal shard up the passage to the surface. An instant later, it exploded in a burst of mist. A blast of frigid air swept over Daine, frost forming on his skin. He blinked, and when his eyes opened, the tunnel was blocked.
By ice.
“Ice?” he said. “We’re under attack by masters of fire, and you give me a wall of ice?”
“It was that or fire,” Lei replied.
“Wonderful.”
Daine took a moment to study their surroundings. The air was stale and slightly cold, though Daine imagined Lei was to blame for the temperature. The hall was about twenty feet across and roughly as tall as it was wide. The walls and floor were formed of the same red stone they’d seen outside, with no signs of blocks; it was as if the tunnels had been carved into a massive slab of stone. Light came from the walls themselves. Every surface was covered with words in a flowing script unknown to Daine, painted in cold fire.
“Lei?” Daine said. “What does it say?”
“Many of the inscriptions are simply proclamations of light,” Pierce responded, to Daine’s surprise. “Others speak of protection and secrecy—I suspect these are the shielding glyphs that I spoke of earlier.”
“He is correct,” Lakashtai said. “I … I cannot feel Kashtai’s presence. I cannot call on my inner strength.”
“Great,” Daine said, “but aside from our melting wall and powerless kalashtar, everything’s fine? We don’t have to fight—”
“Giants,” Shen’kar said. The glowing inscriptions covered every wall, but somehow the scorpion wraith found a shadow to step out of. Xu’susar stood beside him.
“Of course,” Daine said. “Naturally. How many?”
“Sixteen that we saw,” Shen’kar replied. “Six of the blade and ten weavers of magic.”
“Did they notice you?”
The elf cocked his head. “How would they do this?”
“I know you’re talented, but—”
“They are all dead.” Shen’kar said.
There was a faint thud … the ringing of a flaming sword striking against a distant wall of ice.
“Ah,” Daine said. “In that case, lead the way.”
“Onatar’s name,” Lei whispered.
“Yeah.”
Daine had foresworn his belief in higher powers long ago, but what lay before them seemed beyond the capabilities of any mortal force. The passage had led them directly to the center of the monolith. The tower stretched up above them, a hollow spire hundreds of feet across and perhaps a thousand feet in height; perspective was hard to judge from so far below. As impressive as the tower was, it was the object within that drew gasps of astonishment. The heart of the monolith was a massive obsidian cylinder almost as tall as the tower itself. It was covered with glowing sigils and inscriptions in the ancient language of the giants, inlaid with a dozen different metals and gemstones.
And it was floating.