It did not seem possible that they were alone. This tomb might have been carved a millennium past, but those bloody stains were fresh. Twilight kept her guard up as she headed toward the opening to another catacomb. Outside the aura of magelight, her attunement to the shadows took over, and she could see in the darkness.
The next room looked as empty as the first, devoid of bodies as if the interred dead had withered, been stolen, or-most unsettling-walked away. She didn't enter the room, but searched along the door for traps or magical wards.
A ten count yielded a series of scorch marks along the inside of the portal, as well as a series of sigils inscribed faintly along the stone doorframe. Twilight tentatively examined them with her fingers and concentrated, seeking the resonance within the lettering. She felt nothing. A magical ward had once bound this portal, but its power had been long exhausted.
Just behind her, Twilight sensed a presence.
She peered into the gloom, ostensibly planning their route, all the while observing her companion without her eyes. She could not hear breathing or feel a heartbeat. Then, on her own count of five, she spun and bent her knees for a lunge.
"Gah!" Liet stumbled back, startled. "My-my apologies!"
How he had kept so quiet, Twilight could only wonder. She supposed she must have been more intent upon the door than she thought.
"Sneak up on many lasses, do you?" Twilight reached to help Liet to his feet.
"Uh, no, not as such," he said, climbing up. When he had risen, he looked at her awkwardly. His face was red. "I wanted… to talk to you… about…"
"What?" she asked. And this boy was almost thirty years of age? She'd thought humans became adults before twenty. Well, no matter-she was sure no elf would call her mature for her age.
Liet's eyes widened. "Oh, ah, nothing, then…"
"I see," Twilight said, allowing a little danger in her voice.
He gave her a helpless grin, and shielded himself with his hands.
Twilight had to smile at that. He might have been immature, but he didn't suffer from stupidity-or plainness, for that matter.
She slapped Liet's cheek lightly. "Now pay attention, boy," she said. "Look with more than your eyes."
"Eh?" Liet asked.
"I'll show you." She took his hand and pointed him toward the chamber. They gazed into the darkness. Liet's grasp was tight, and Twilight found she enjoyed it.
Enjoyed it too much. She dropped his hand.
Davoren grumbled something under his breath, too soft for Taslin to hear.
"What was that?" Slip asked brightly. She looked at her mace, then down at Gargan's bare foot, as though comparing the weapon and his toe.
"Why do we wait here?" the warlock asked. He nodded at Twilight and Liet. "Does she know something, or do they merely wish to be alone, I wonder?"
"Pettiness toward a boy, Lord Hellsheart?" Taslin asked. "Are you jealous of him?" She looked at Asson, who smiled at her. "Or of her, perhaps?"
The warlock whirled, outraged. Asson grinned, and Slip's mouth became an O.
"Jealous of her authority, that is," Taslin finished, to a chuckle and a snicker.
Davoren scowled. "She is a liar," he said. "Do not trust her."
"How do you know?" Slip asked, stealing what Taslin had been thinking.
The warlock's lips pressed into a line, and his blood red eyes narrowed at Twilight. "Look at the way she claims to represent the interests of all, yet obviously favors that one."
Taslin looked at them, standing close, looking into the darkness. As she and Asson watched, Twilight took Liet's hand for a breath, then dropped it, as though realizing she was being watched.
Slip looked back. "Nay," she said. "Not seeing it."
Davoren sighed. "She lies," he said. "She is hiding something. What of her mark? Her sword? That jewel she wears at her neck? Surely those, at least, mean something."
Taslin stared hard at him. "You know Twilight?"
"The golden goddess speaks!" Davoren said. "Very well. I shall-"
Then his words vanished, choked off. An unseen force lifted and hurled the warlock into Gargan, who staggered back, stunned.
CHAPTER FIVE
Twilight heard shouts and a crash as Davoren slammed into Gargan. She whirled.
A creature materialized where the warlock had stood. Desiccated flesh stretched tightly across the gaunt figure's bony ridges, and its eyes burned with rage and hatred. Its clothes were old and tattered, the fashion of a long-forgotten age. Tufts of inky black hair stood on its cracked and peeling scalp, and it grinned a mouthful of needlelike teeth.
"Wights!" Twilight shouted, thrusting Liet behind her and brandishing her rapier.
"By Corellon!" Taslin shouted, channeling Corellon's wrath. Her holy symbol, a golden crescent fused to her sword's hilt, burst with daylight.
The wight flew backward and shattered into thousands of pieces, all of which crumbled to dust before striking the opposite wall.
All around the creature's path, monsters just like it shimmered into being, shambling as though dazed. The display of Corellon's power had not destroyed them, like the first wight, but it had ruined their concealing magic.
"Invisible wights," corrected Twilight.
A score of the horrid creatures burst into view all around them, claws and fangs raking. Only Taslin's power kept them all from being overwhelmed in that first moment, foiling many attacks as the wights recoiled from the painful light.
Twilight shut her eyes, relying instead on her hearing and instinct, and lunged ahead. Sure enough, she impaled one of the invisible monsters as it prepared to leap at her. The thing, confused by her sudden, perfect strike, slumped to the ground, its animating essence lost. Flames flickered up and down Betrayal's hissing steel.
The shadowdancer had no time to gloat, for she sensed an attack coming from her right. She dived forward in a roll as blasts of energy scored the air where she had stood. Her success was short lived, however, as the bolts veered in the air to slam into Twilight's chest, blowing her to the floor. Through her agony, she saw a wight standing in a corner, weaving its hands in arcane gestures.
"Wizard wights?" she groaned.
" 'Light!" Liet shouted, leaping to the attack, but a half-visible wight slammed into him. Liet tumbled to the floor, grappling with the horror.
Weapons darting, the others formed a tight circle around the staggering Davoren and the coughing Asson. Gargan caused the most havoc to the wights, his battle-axe sending a creature whithering with every swing or two. Taslin continued to blast holy power to shatter the undead foes or drive them back. Davoren righted himself, his eyes blazing. Then he threw a deafening blast of crimson power that drove one of the monsters staggering back, burned by otherworldly fire in the shape of snarling devils.
"Help Twilight and Liet!" shouted Asson. The old mage could do little but shine the light of his staff wherever the creatures seemed thickest and direct the defense there.
"Leave them!" Davoren shouted. "Worry for yourself, white-beard!" He cast out a forked blast of eldritch power, sending two of the gaunt monsters staggering back. The power sizzled outward to more wights, burning their flesh as well.
Thanks for the support, Twilight mused.
Without looking, she waited until a wight leaped for her from behind, then snapped her blade up, spearing it through the throat. The blow was hardly enough to destroy an undead creature, but the beast paused. Twilight used the opportunity to roll between its legs to aid the struggling Liet.
The youth had lost his sword in the wight's rush and now bent his strength against the creature, merely to keep its claws from his face. Pus and yellowish ooze dripped from a dagger embedded in its eye, but it failed to distract the wight. As they wrestled, it hissed and slavered over Liet, snapping its fangs at his nose.