Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [75]
The returning color drained from the elf's face. "So that explains what happened in the Promenade," she said slowly.
"Yes, we heard about that," Khelben grumbled. "Laerel has gone to Evermeet to try to recruit elven clerics to help shore up the Promenade's defenses. My lady has a fondness for the impossible challenge and the hopeless cause."
"True, but she's also attracted to your sunny disposition," she said, attempting a flippant tone and a wry little smile. Never before would she have dared such a comment, but her apprenticeship was well and truly over.
Khelben stared at her for a moment. "Aren't you going to ask about the sea elf?"
Her facade shattered, and her violet eyes were haunted. "No need," she said softly. "I looked for Xzorsh and found drow warriors instead. I'm not stupid enough to think that they might have thanked him for returning Liriel's gems and sent him on his way."
The archmage knew all too well the weight of this particular burden.
"Then nothing more needs to be said. You're done with this, and so am I. Others must follow Liriel to the end of her particular quest, and we must find a way to be content with whatever comes of it."
Khelben rose and traced a sweeping, circular path with his black staff. Several paces away a glowing arch appeared, mirroring the archmage's movement. When the circle was complete, the light spilled inward, filling in the darkness and forming a sheet of translucent magic. He turned back. "Are you coming, or not?"
Sharlarra rose slowly to her feet. "You want me back?"
"Not particularly, but Laerel does, and I find that my life is considerably more pleasant when she gets what she wants."
There was a glint of self-deprecating humor in his eyes and astonishing charm in the smile that thoughts of his lady inspired. Khelben was not unaware of this charm, and not above using it.
He noted with satisfaction that Sharlarra stepped toward him before she realized that she'd decided to return.
Together they walked through the gate. Khelben noted the regret on the elf's face, regret that came with the acceptance that Liriel's fate was beyond her reach. Even so, he resolved to keep a closer eye on her in the future.
And in a distant forest, Liriel stirred in her sleep, troubled by one of the dreams that had begun filling her resting hours. In it, she wandered through a gray world, bereft of both the sun's warmth and the cool mystery of the Underdark-and she was utterly alone.
Half awake, half dreaming, she groped for Fyodor's bedroll and found it empty. For a moment her sense of isolation and abandonment was complete, then a strong hand closed around her seeking fingers. A warm presence filled her with reassurance and love.
She slept on, comforted.
Fyodor saw this from his perch in a tree a few paces away from the campsite where he kept the first watch. He noted the sudden restlessness that marred his friend's sleep and the soft smile that replaced her moment of turmoil. A shaft of moonlight touched the drow, lending cool blue highlights to her ebony features.
The Rashemaar warrior's eyes traced the soft light up into the forest canopy. Though he could not see it, he allowed himself a moment to envision the night sky of his homeland and to dream of the mysteries that awaited him beyond.
CHAPTER TEN
rude awakenings
Liriel stumbled down the tunnel's steep incline. For some reason that she could not understand, she was running backward. Her footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel like the pounding of a battle drum, reverberating endlessly through the thick gray mists. They marched on and on, unfading.
She kicked off her boots and continued barefoot, ignoring as best she could the knife-keen shards littering the stone floor, but she couldn't ignore her bloody footprints. The cold stone did not leech the living warmth from her blood. In fact the small prints steadily grew brighter, taking on a ruby glow that set the damp walls aglow and filled the misty tunnel with faint crimson haze.
The drow could smell the blood, too, as vividly