At this moment, however, Taen said nothing. There were times to engage the enemy with persuasive rhetoric and razor-sharp logic-but wandering through a maze of caverns on your way to assassinating an evil witch bent on wide-scale domination and destruction was not one of those times. Once again, he would wait until after they had completed their mission before speaking to the druid.
Not that it would matter in the slightest, he thought with a bit of acrimony and turned to search for their guide. Yurz, who had nearly gibbered himself into apoplexy at the sight of the ogres, had finally regained some of his goblinoid poise. Now the creature stood at an opening in the far northern section of the huge cavern, beckoning with his bony fingers.
"Pretty Lady, come," he hissed. "Path to man-castle go this way."
Marissa and the others turned from their measured contemplation of the petrified ogres and marched dutifully after the goblin. Taen gave the high-ceilinged cavern one last glance before following his friends.
Chill air blew steadily through the passages and side tunnels of the upper caverns, carrying with it a deeper bite. As they progressed, Taen watched his breath coil upward in white plumes. Here and there, moisture running down the cold, gray walls of stone curdled and formed a thin layer of ice. Even Borovazk, seemingly immune and inured to the temperature extremes of Rashemen, pulled out another fur shirt to ward himself from the deepening cold. That fact brought Taen a little comfort as he fought his teeth's chattering.
With Yurz leading them, they traversed for quite some time through what seemed like an endless expanse of hidden caves, shadow-filled tunnels, and sloping passages that threatened to trip the unwary with rocky protuberances and rough, uneven ground. Taen stumbled a few times, cursing the weariness that grew within him at each step. Their battle with the wyverns, the distance they had covered, and the stress of moving like shadows in the territory of the enemy were taking their toll. Finally, after he had knocked his shin against a stalagmite for the third time, Taen called a halt.
"We have to rest," he explained. "We'll do no good if we arrive in the citadel too exhausted to deal with the traitor." The others nodded, and Taen could see by the weary expressions on their faces that they were happy to agree.
"So we rest now?" Yurz asked. At Marissa's acknowledgement, the goblin began to hop from foot to foot. "Excellent," he exclaimed. "Yurz know perfect place to take friends for rest. Follow."
With that, the goblin skirted into a small side passage no more than four feet across. Taen and the others followed as quickly as they could. As they moved, the half-elf noticed that the surrounding air temperature grew warmer. By the time they had reached the tunnel's destination-a large circular grotto nearly thirty feet in all directions-steam wafted up into the air.
Marissa practically cooed with delight as she stepped into the cave. Taen wondered what could have made the druid so excited until he, too, entered the grotto. Glimmering stones and crystal of almost every color imaginable scintillated and flashed in the light of his arcane spell. It was as if the very stone of the earth were aflame, burning with jeweled incandescence. What's more, the half-elf noted that the tunnel spilling into the room thinned, transforming into a small ledge that circled the entire grotto. Below it, a still pool of water filled the rest of the cave. Steam drifted upward from the surface of the pool like the trickle of smoke from a sleeping dragon's nostrils.
The warmth felt good, a blessed relief from the constant cold threatening to suck the very breath from Taen's lungs. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of pleasure as the heated cavern air covered his body, wrapping the half-elf in its warm embrace. He dropped his pack and sat down on the hard ground, stretching legs cramped from the day's exertions. He could see the others doing the same thing.
Yurz remained standing, a wide-mouthed grin splitting the harshness of his face. "Friends like resting place?" he asked.
Marissa laughed as she unbound a length of hair she had plaited for their journey into the earth. "Oh yes, Yurz," she replied. "Very much so."
The enchanted creature again hopped from foot to foot, clapping his hands together as he did so. "Yurz know all the secret places of the caves," the goblin said. "We close to Flying Bridge and then"-he lowered his voice-"we enter the tombs of the man-castle."
Taen relaxed even more at the fact that they were very close to their destination. Soon, he thought, they would finish what they came to do; then he and Marissa would have time to straighten out what lay between them. The half-elf stretched as he gazed down at the waters of the pool that steamed invitingly. He was about to suggest a relaxing swim when the half-elf caught sight of a ripple in the water's surface. Looking closer, he could see a large scaled form cutting through the depths of the pool.
Taen jumped to his feet. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to the form swimming beneath the surface.
The others came rushing over, all except Yurz. "Pretty Lady and friends not worry," the goblin said. "That just the water dragon. It not hurt you-unless you go for a swim."
The others soon returned to their packs, stowing gear and pulling out the hardened trail rations they had brought with them for their journey. Taen, however, didn't trust the creature that lurked within the hidden depths of the spring-fed pool. He watched the beast, unable to fall back into the relaxed mood he had just a few moments before. As the others ate and drank, exchanging stories and laughter in the wholly unexpected comfort of the cavern, Taen wondered what the renegade witch was doing at that moment.
A loud splash echoed through the cave as the water dragon dived into the black silence of the pool.
Chapter 19
The Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
The Old One sagged within his bonds.
More than a year of captivity, twisted and tortured by Yulda's arcane ministrations, had reduced the ancient wizard to an almost insubstantial physicality. He was nothing, a shadow, a burning ember of power wrapped in a decrepit and decaying body-which was just as she wanted it.
Yulda gestured and the shimmering funnel of energy that connected her to the dying wizard spun away into nothingness. Her body brimmed with arcane energy, stretched, it seemed, to its limits with the pulsing eldritch power that raced through her very veins. For a moment, she feared that she had taken too much, had sucked the Old One dry, reducing him to a powerless lump of flesh.
He stirred, however, moaning softly into the shadowy cavern, and her fears subsided. The old man couldn't hold out much longer. Despite what had seemed like an inexhaustible reservoir of arcane might, the Old One's strength had begun to fade. Yulda knew that she had been drawing too much power from the wizard, depleting his reserve too quickly, but it couldn't be helped. Her plans were moving forward, and she needed every ounce of eldritch might to keep her servants in line. Soon she would be able to rest, and the Old One would have a chance to regain the precious power that was all that kept his heart beating.
Soon.
But not now.
Another storm beat hard upon the rocks from which her demesne was forged. The wind moaned and shrieked with a bitter voice-one that she could hear even in the heart of the cavern. It mixed with the piteous sounds of the Old One as he wept and panted through his suffering.
"You… you," he said through great gasping breaths, "you shall never succeed with your plan. The very heart of the… the land rises up against… against you."