Riverwind grasped the crystal staff with both hands. “No,” he replied.
The dragon's mouth flew open, and poisonous, acid steam bellowed forth. Riverwind shut his eyes and clutched the staff. He had no time to move. Khisanth poured forth a cloud dense enough to dissolve a troop of cavalry. Riverwind braced himself for disaster.
But he was astonished when the deadly fog flowed around and did not touch him. The plainsman swallowed hard. His knees were weak. The staff-the goddess-had saved his life once more. The artifact's glow had increased, burning into his brain. Riverwind advanced, holding the Staff of Mishakal out like a two-handed sword.
“What are you doing?” hissed the dragon. “Stand where you are!”
“I thought you wanted the staff,” he said evenly. “I'm bringing it to you.”
“Foolish mortal,” the dragon sneered. “Do you believe that you can defeat me with that?” In spite of her words, Khisanth backed a step, her powerful legs bunched to spring, her wings unfurled. She was enormous. “I will take you apart bone by bone, you and all you care for!” Khisanth threatened malignly.
Riverwind continued his advance, his faith in the staff as unwavering as its blue glow. Khisanth said one word in the language of magic, and the bright light of the sun vanished. A blackness shrouded Riverwind. The dragon had cast a spell of darkness.
Though the blackness was very disorienting, Riverwind's grip on the Staff of Mishakal was a steely one. He thrust it forward and the end connected with Khisanth's leg. A bright spark lanced out and crackled with a thunderous sound against the black scales. Riverwind felt the shock tingle through his body. Khisanth laughed out loud.
“You think that silly stick could hurt me?” the dragon cried. “I'll not waste any more time on you, mortal filth. But I shall remember you!” Riverwind held his breath. He heard the dragon's claws scraping the edge of the well wall and then heard the sounds of her descent, growing fainter.
The darkness lifted, and Riverwind staggered in the suddenly bright day. He had to lean on the staff as his body began to shake with long-suppressed terror. Still, he marveled that the staff had saved him and diverted the dragon from Di An.
The blue crystal staff lost its aura and assumed its guise of wood. Riverwind braced it on his shoulder and ran for the temple. Once the dragon reached Xak Tsaroth, Shanz would tell her the whole story, and then her wrath would go far beyond mere pique. With sheer cliffs behind him and a vast swamp before him, Riverwind worried if there was any place in the world he could go to escape Khisanth's fury.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Di An still lay on the temple floor, staning upward with wide, white eyes. Riverwind spoke to her gently.
“It's all right,” he said. “The dragon is gone for now.”
“I found nothing in the tunnel, master.”
Riverwind started. “What? What did you say?”
“The tunnel is empty, Mors. What shall I do now?” Di An asked. She turned her face toward him. No fear showed, only an unnatural calmness and a strange light in her eyes.
Riverwind's puzzlement fell away. Di An's mind was broken. Too much fear had sent her away to a more familiar and safer time and place, when she was a lowly scout for Mors.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes. May I carry my lord's spear?”
“No,” Riverwind said. “Follow me. The dragon could return at any time.”
They left the temple and crossed the plaza by the well. The trees ended on the water, and Riverwind told Di An to climb upon his back. She complied meekly. He waded into the black water, flies and mosquitoes buzzing around his face. He went in up to his chin, then the bottom rose and he was able to walk onto a bare, dry island. The Cursed Lands seemed to stretch out around them forever, an endless vista of dark green foliage, black stagnant water, and dry sandy spits rising from quiet lagoons. Behind the companions, the temple of Mishakal was lost in the trees.
Riverwind set Di An down, and they rapidly crossed the island and came to another band of open water. He carried the befuddled elf girl through that one, too, though he slipped halfway across and both of their heads went under. He struggled against her dead weight, for Di An was so removed from reality that she didn't even fight to keep her head above water. Wheezing and spitting the foul water of the swamp, the plainsman managed to get their heads above water. Riverwind staggered ashore on another barren island only a dozen yards wide and collapsed.
“The cave is very damp,” Di An said, her hair hanging in dripping ringlets. “We'd better avoid this route in the future.”
The sun had nearly set. Its ruddy glow spread over the dull swamp, giving it an almost golden tinge. To the east, the high dome of the temple of Mishakal just barely showed above the treetops.
“We can't go on the way we have,” Riverwind said, almost to himself. “Plunging straight into these mires. One of these times we'll go so deep we'll never get out.”
“I wish I had a slice of bread,” Di An commented. “And a nice red apple.”
“So do I.” Riverwind rubbed his face briskly with his hands. “We've got to push on. Though the swamp seems endless, I believe we ought to be able to reach the mountains by morning.”
“The copper deposits in this cave are very rich.”
The plainsman took Di An's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked at him and smiled. “You are a very kind master, Mors.”
Suddenly, the staff, which had been lying across River-wind's knees, began to glow. Riverwind jumped up, holding it out like a blazing torch. “On your feet,” he said, staring at the staff. “Something's happening!”
Even at the distance of almost a mile, Riverwind could feel the leading edge of the dragonfear projected by Khi-santh. The dragon was coming. He jerked Di An to her feet and started down the sloping sand to the water's edge.
A black shape rose in the twilight sky above the ruined city. Even in her muddled state, Di An felt the dragonfear. She gasped with apprehension and pulled her hand free of Riverwind's-not to run away from him, but to run ahead of him.
They splashed into the dirty water. Scum clung to their legs, browning the elf girl's pale white skin. Riverwind wouldn't look back to see if the dragon was coming. The staff was glowing brighter, like a beacon in the half-light. As they slogged through the shallow mire, a gust of wind swept over them as Khisanth's wings disturbed the air.
The Blue Crystal Staff went dark as suddenly as it had begun to glow. The dragon circled around for an attack.
“No!” Riverwind shouted, shaking the inert wooden rod. “Don't leave! What did I do wrong?”
Khisanth extended her long, snaky neck. Her mouth gaped as she drew in air. “Meddling vermin!” she roared. A steaming mist of acid gushed from the dragon's throat. It settled over the swamp like a lethal fog. Riverwind saw the yellowish cloud descending, but the Staff of Mishakal was useless wood in his grip.
“Get down!” he said to the weeping Di An.
“Help me, Mors!” she pleaded fearfully. Riverwind grabbed her arms and threw her down in the brackish water. He followed close behind.
It was dark and unpleasantly warm in that muddy soup. He held Di An close and stayed under for as long as he could hold his breath. Then, he raised his head cautiously. The poisonous acid was drifting away on the wind, but the iron-claw trees on a nearby high point showed signs of withering. Their hard, shiny leaves shriveled, turned black, and dropped like dead birds into the water.
Khisanth was flapping hard to regain height. Dragging Di An along by the wrist, Riverwind splashed into shallower water, toward a bed of marsh reeds. The dragon was banking left, circling around for another attack.