Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [120]
The scouting party stopped at the mouth of the caves and lit small torches. They waved these overhead as they ducked into the tunnels, warding off a sudden rush of startled bats.
Petyar led them down to the narrow passage where the dead drow lay. Fyodor crouched beside the body for a closer look. After a few moments he glanced up.
"He did not die here. Something dragged him to this place, and not the wolf."
Treviel sneered. "What else should we expect? Of course there are more of these two-legged vermin. The drow do not hunt alone."
"They leave their dead in a tunnel for the rats?" Fyodor asked.
"What else would they do? It is difficult to bury or burn in a cave."
Fyodor had had enough experience with dark elves to understand that their thinking was seldom so simple. He lifted his torch high and surveyed the tunnel. Though the passage was narrow, the ceiling soared overhead. Fyodor made out odd shadows and impressions in the uneven rock that might be nothing or might be passages into unseen tunnels. The drow had moved their dead comrade for a purpose. Bait for a trap, perhaps?
The warrior lowered his torch. "No wonder Petyar chose this tunnel. The ceilings are high enough to keep the cobwebs from tangling in his hair," he said lightly. He made a show of sweeping the torch low to check the floor. "No sign of wolf scat. She hasn't been back to feed yet, and from the looks of things the rats will polish these bones within a day or so. I warrant that we'll find no wolf in these warrens today."
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Petyar looked puzzled, but before he could speak Treviel gave him an ungentle shove. "Move it, boy, and hold your tongue," he said in a stern, soft voice.
The men fell into step, moving swiftly toward the open cavern beyond. They were almost there when the drow attacked.
The Rashemi scouts reacted at once. Swords hissed free, and the warriors ran eagerly to meet this much-hated foe. Men near the rear of the party gave shouts of warning as more dark elves clambered down the stone walls and into the torchlight.
A drow female, small, lithe, and clad in scant leather armor, leaped into Fyodor's path. She leveled two weapons at him: a broadsword and a coldly beautiful smile.
Fyodor hesitated just for a moment. Even so small delay was too much. The female lunged, her sword seeking his heart. He gathered his wits and used his best weapon-his size-against the smaller and more agile drow.
He leaned away from the drow's attack then lunged at her, pinning the small female to the wall. She writhed and thrashed but could not bring her weapon to bear. Knowing Liriel's penchant for multiple weapons, he immediately seized the drow's wrists and pinned them high over her head.
"Go!" roared Fyodor, waving the others to pass as he struggled to hold onto the drow. Treviel repeated the command.
The female wriggled away and climbed the wall. Fyodor let her go, suspecting that he might yet have cause to regret this. He took the ebony wand from his belt and took stock of the battle.
Most of the men had retreated down the exit tunnel. Bright lights flared suddenly, driving the drow back and providing an escape for the Rashemi. Only Petyar and Treviel remained in the cavern. Side by side, the two warriors backed down the narrow tunnel, holding off the cat-quick swords of several attacking drow. Fyodor made a quick count and came to an unanticipated conclusion:
There were not enough drow.
The irony in that observation did not escape him, hard-pressed though he was. But it was better to see one's enemy than to wonder when a hidden foe might strike. The drow for whom he could not account had probably taken the same route as the female, nimbly climbing the walls along paths only they could see.
Again Fyodor lifted his torch high. This time the light was reflected back by several pairs of red eyes and small, gleaming knives.
Fyodor tossed his wand straight up, sending it spinning high into the cavern. It struck the ceiling and shattered. He shielded his eyes for the resulting blinding