I whirled, pointing my weapon at the wall closest to me. I sent the power forth to smash against the stones, praying they would give before the onslaught and provide a way to escape. The Mirage was on my side: a hole appeared that was more like a window and far too symmetrical to be wholly the result of my sword-bolt. Even as the floor disappeared from beneath my feet, I pulled myself up into the gap. The wall was thick and there was plenty of room to sit comfortably. I had no intention of lingering, however, and went to jump down on the other side. s
And stopped myself just in time.
There was no ground there. Even in the near-darkness I could see that for twenty paces on the other side of the wall there was only the heaving surface of the Ravage. Shock blanched me.
I looked down. By the light of my sword I could see the monsters thrashing in the depths, swelling with obscene triumph as they tried to reach me with their slavering muzzles. I screamed then: Brand's name.
His voice came back to me out of the darkness, surprisingly calm. 'I'm here. I see you. I'm getting a rope.'
I directed a beam of light his way and found him kneeling at the edge of the Ravage, rummaging through a saddlebag with desperate haste. Behind me the roof of the building toppled, dragging much of the wall I was crouched on with it. Somewhere inside my head I heard a scream of pain that was not mine. The stones I knelt on shifted slightly; narrow cracks opened up under me. A battle, the like of which I could only guess at, raged beneath the wall. And the Mirage Makers were losing.
'Hurry!' I cried, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. This was one time when there was no pleasure in the excitement. A stone tumbled, and I heard the glugging plop it made as it hit the surface of the Ravage and was sucked under.
'I have it,' Brand said. 'Listen, Ligea. I'm saddling up a shleth and attaching one end of the rope to the saddle horn. I'll throw the other end to you. Tie it to the wall, as high as you can. That should give it some height. Then you'll have to come across hand over hand as best you can.'
'Yes.' The word was a croak, not my voice at all. I reached up with my sword and used its power to punch a hole through tjie wall above my head. Rock t
dust showered me. Somewhere to my right several more stones fell into the Ravage. Behind me the rest of the'building had disappeared; my part of the wall was all that remained. I began to shake.
My brief hope that the Mirage Makers would help – build a bridge for me perhaps – had long since died. They were already doing all they could just to maintain this section of the wall so I might live a litde longer. I felt their agony and thought of Pinar's son.
Inside my womb my own baby stirred, making itself felt for the first time. My concern for him was real and compelling – and a revelation. Perhaps there was something of the mother in me after all, but I had no time to think about it.
'Are you ready?' Brand asked.
'Ready.'
The rope sailed across the blackness and I caught it easily. Goddess be thanked for Brand. I threaded the rope through the hole and tied it fast.
'When you're ready,' Brand said.
A portion from the end of the wall tumbled and the rest trembled. I thrust my sword through my belt and seized the rope in both hands. At his end, Brand urged his shleth forward to keep the rope taut, but even so I found my bare toes skimming the surface of the Ravage. I hoisted my feet up and began to swing my way across the horror.
More stones fell, from both ends of the wall this time. The remaining portion was only five or six paces long now. Along the rope I could feel the way the stones shivered.
Something scraped against my leg, drawing blood. I looked down. A green scaled arm, stick-thin and dribbling slime, had reached up to me, raking me with razored claws. It gripped my ankle, digging in
viciously, pulling me down towards an open gape of curved teeth and serrated jaw waiting just below the surface. My forward movement was halted.
I let myself hang by one arm and aimed my cabochon at the creature's body, bringing the gem to light, then changing light to burning coldfire. The golden stream hit the surface of the Ravage and dissipated in a spatter of molten sparks, none of which seemed to harm the thing holding me. In terror, I kicked at it with my free foot, but my bare toes connected only ineffectually with its snout and I ripped my sole open on its serrations. Moreover, the movement made me bounce, dipping me towards the surface simmering below.
'Sod you', I told it and drew my sword. I slashed down, severing the creature's limb at the wrist. The clawed portion remained fastened to my ankle; the rest of the arm fell away into a roiling whirl of blood and slime.
I gagged, forced myself to return the fouled sword to my belt, then swung my legs up to lock my ankles over the rope.
'Ligea.' Brand's anguish hit me. 'The wall -/'
I was already moving, still slung below the rope, but I was only halfway across. At Brand's warning I looked back. The wall was heaving as the last of its foundations dissolved into the corruption. Cracks ripped through the stonework; blocks toppled.
I felt the triumph of the Ravage. I was not going to make it.
Snarling my frustration, I reached once more for my sword and slashed my connection to the wall.
Brand's howl of warning echoed in the air as I hit the surface of the Ravage. My actions were instinctive. I twisted the rope slack around my right wrist. My sword was fitted into my left hand, my cabochon in its,
place… The blade flared into a blaze of gold, bathing me in its light as I was sucked into the fester. I was still screaming the conjurations of self-warding as I was dragged under.
And even while I cried out the words, I knew the limitations of their value. Any movement of mine would negate such warding: the wards might still stand, but I wouldn't be inside them…
And so it was. First there was shock: the disbelief of a body struck by more agony than it was possible for a human being to bear. I was on fire. My skin screamed out its pain; my inner organs shrivelled with their burning; anguish tore my mind, shattering my knowledge of myself. My hands spasmed, tightening my hold on both sword and rope. My body convulsed, twisting me into a foetal travesty. I felt the core of my being, my soul, was touched by the Vortex of the Dead. I diverted as much power as I could to keep the pain at bay.
I slowed my heartbeat, slowed my breathing. I had to use power to push fluid away from my face in order to breathe at all. My sword still flamed to stave off the creatures homing in on me. Through blurred, uncomprehending eyes I saw them: twisted bodies of organic dross, twisted intelligences thriving on my suffering, watchful eyes shining with carnal glee. The beam of power from my blade sputtered ineffectually. Still, they were wary of it. Or perhaps it was the wards that held them off.
I looked upwards. As a fish might see a fisherman on the edge of a lake, I saw Brand: a dark, distorted figure, looking down. The light of my sword glowed beneath the surface, illuminating my agony for him. He was shouting to me, but the words were lost and I didn't have the strength left to enhance my hearing.
A moment later, I started to move and knew he was urging his shleth forward to pull me out. Slowly I began to roll through the foulness towards the edge. Yet as the rope dragged me one way, the Ravage sucked me down another, until I felt I was being torn in two.
It was well Brand did not understand how much pain he was bringing to me. Wave after wave of agony became a blaze that left my mind shrieking. I tried to build new wards. I tried to control my body's need for air. I tried to keep the power of my cabochon alive.
Around me the predators saw their prey being drawn away from them. They snarled and jostled, swooped down on me with claws and fangs bared, only to be turned away at the last moment by the force still glowing in my sword. The Ravage churned. And the blaze of my sword was dimming even as my body approached the edge and safety. The creatures closed in, crowing their anticipation.