Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [76]
Liriel shook her head violently, trying to clear her senses and her mind, but another scent, a sharp woody fragrance as unfamiliar as it was powerful, hung over her like a cloud, holding the blood lure tantalizingly close. It would not leave her be.
The first footprint began to sing.
A tendril of crimson mist rose from the bloody print, and with it a clear soprano voice. Liriel recognized an invocation to Lolth, one sung each evening at the devotional services at Arach Tinilith. One after another, the bright footprints took up the song. An intricate counterpoint of chant and descant filled the tunnel, keeping time to the thudding echoes of Liriel's steps. The thin crimson mist-threads swirled and entwined in jagged, circuitous paths, forming a visual interpretation of the hymn-and sketching the leering visages and beckoning hands of demons and fiends, of monsters Liriel had never seen or heard named.
The drow thudded solidly into the stone wall. Horror filled her when she realized there was nowhere to go.
Suddenly a cold, sharp breeze slashed like a sword through the oppressive woodland scent. The red mists converged and streamed upward in a single swift rush. The tunnel itself dissolved, solid stone turning to haze then spinning off into thousands of thin, gray threads.
Liriel awoke gasping and flailing, still entangled in her nightmare. A few frantic moments passed before she realized that she was quite literally entangled. Thick layers of webbing covered her, binding her to the forest floor. A blood-red spider the size of a tunnel rat scurried just out of reach. It skittered around her, still spinning the binding webs and humming the hymn to Lolth.
A slim, booted foot came down, and the spider's song ended in a liquid explosion. Long-fingered hands thrust into the mess surrounding Liriel and seized hold of her. She was dragged to her feet with a sharp tug then thrown violently aside.
For a moment the unmistakable whirl and tumble of a magical gate surrounded the drow. Before she could catch her breath, she was cast out onto leaf-strewn ground.
Liriel rolled to a stop, sat up, and raked some of the sticky strings from her face. Fyodor dropped to his knees beside her, and she dived into his open arms. They clung together until the wild beating of her heart slowed and the phantom sound of her own footsteps faded from her inner ear.
Finally she eased back and looked up into Thorn's grim face. The elf stood over them. Her hand rested on her sword as if she expected retaliation for her rough rescue, and her gold-green eyes regarded Liriel steadily and without expression.
"Thank you," the drow said fervently.
The elf made no response, turning instead to Fyodor. "That was a dangerous, foolish thing to do. That sprig of herbs was holding the drow in slumber. When you moved it off her, you allowed her to escape her dream."
"I should have left her alone and trapped?" he demanded.
"If that's what it took to keep Lolth's filthy fingers out of my homeland, yes!" the elf snarled. "Better to keep a dream inside Liriel's head than unleash it in the hidden homeland of my people!"
Liriel's swirling thoughts began to settle, and memory returned. She rose unsteadily to her feet and faced the elf. "You hit me. Why?"
"It was easier than arguing with you."
This response startled a deep bass chuckle from Fyodor, which earned him an incredulous glare from both females. He wiped the smile from his lips, if not his eyes, and gestured for them to continue.
"There is a shorter path to Rashemen, one no wizard can walk. I did not wish Lolth's eyes to behold that path. Where you go, she follows." The elf lifted one raven brow. "The dream that so disturbed you proved this, did it not?"
Liriel spun away and began to pace. "What does she want from me?" she said in despairing tones. "Why won't she leave me alone?"
Thorn's cool stare turned glacial. "Come and see."
She turned and strode into the forest. Liriel