CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Howling Delve
5 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Kall felt the weight of the demon come down and knew the battle was over. He prayed the spines would impale him and end his life quickly. If they did not—panic rose sickeningly in his throat—he would burn to death from the demon's flesh.
A silver light filled the cavern, blinding him, but the killing weight did not follow. Kall blinked the brightness out of his eyes and strained to see. Running feet came across the bridge toward him. Dantane's wall had come down. The wizard and Aazen were coming to him, but neither wore looks of fear or alarm. If anything, their expressions were confused.
Kall rolled onto his side, still shocked at his ability to do so. A few feet away, his sword lay on the walkway.
The jarilith was gone. There was only a small puddle of blood left on the bridge. Either the demon had fallen from the bridge, or Kall had truly severed his link to this place.
"He's gone," said Dantane, echoing Kall's thoughts. He knelt beside Kall to examine his wounds. "You need healing, or you're going to die," he said.
Kall laughed. Pain flared in his abdomen. "No need to spare my delicate feelings. Tell me the truth."
"Kall! Dantane!" cried Meisha from above them. "It's Garavin!"
Garavin—his voice had cut off sometime during the flash of silver light. Kall used Dantane's arm to haul himself to his feet. Light-headed from wounds and the terror gripping his heart, he flew unsteadily to the upper bridge. Dantane flew beside him.
Out of the corner of his vision, Kall saw Aazen looking past them, up to the double doors Kall and Garavin had come through. Green portal light spilled out through the doorway. Aazen motioned to his man on the opposite bridge.
Let them go, Kall thought. Dantane was right. He wasn't in any condition to fight.
He crested the stone lip, and all thoughts of Aazen deserted him.
Garavin lay prone on the bridge. Meisha and Talal crouched beside him. The dwarf clutched his holy symbol in his hand, his eyes fixed and staring at nothing.
Kall bent, trying to pry the symbol loose, but stopped when he felt the latent heat. "What happened?" he demanded.
"It was the ghost," said Talal. "The one from the room, where we found Braedrin's body. Meisha's messenger. I saw it touch him. I don't think he's breathin' at all."
"Garavin," Kall said, taking his friend by the shoulders. There were no visible wounds on the dwarf's body. "Wake up. Wherever you are, we need you back here." He held his maimed hands in front of the dwarf's vacant eyes. "Look at this. See what a wreck I make of myself when you're not here?" His voice cracked. "By the gods, you'd better not be dead." He leaned close and spoke in the dwarf's ear. "There are too many ghosts down here already, old friend. Please."
Kall thought he heard a shallow push of air fill his friend's chest. Garavin's bloodshot eyes slid closed, then opened again, and something of a presence returned. Kall breathed a quiet prayer of thanks. "Can you hear me, old friend?" he asked.
"He's gone," said the dwarf, looking beyond Kall to something unseen. His voice held a sadness Kall had never heard before.
"Who's gone?" Kall asked quietly.
"Dumathoin," replied the dwarf. Beside him, Meisha drew a startled breath, but Garavin's attention was on Kall. "He's gone, and so are the Howlings. Their penance is done."
"Is it safe to go now?"
Garavin nodded. "Best to leave it all to the dust, lad." This time he did look at Meisha. "And take the warning to other secret keepers. This Shanatar doesn't exist."
The Harper nodded, and Kall stood up. Garavin touched his hands and stomach and began a healing prayer.
"As soon as we can move, we're getting out of here," Kall said, feeling the pain of his wounds diminish. When Garavin would have tended other hurts, he gently pushed the dwarf away. "I'm all right, old friend. Save your strength."
"To what fate are we escaping?" spoke up Dantane. When Kall turned, he pointed to the double doors. "Your friend is gone through the portal."
"Could be an ambush waiting for us up top," said Morgan. He sounded as if he did not care either way.
"Or the portal malfunctioned again, and they could be sitting anywhere in the Delve," said Kall. He thought of Cesira, back at the estate. "We don't have any other way out."
While the others gathered themselves, Kall went to Morgan, but the thief remained subdued. He would not meet Kall's eyes.
Kall tried to speak, to confirm what he hadn't been able to acknowledge when Morgan had run onto the bridge without Laerin, when he'd seen the fresh blood on the demon's claws.
"Is there. .." Kall cleared his throat and tried again. "Is there a body?" Morgan paled, but it was Talal who answered.
"There's nothing you'd recognize," he said, shuddering at a memory he could never be rid of. "Your friend's gone."
Kall nodded, but inwardly, the rage was so profound he thought he might burn from it. Was this what it was like for Meisha, he wondered, to be filled with fire and anger so consuming it swallowed his thoughts? To think that his friend, who loved the light, the road, the open air—that this should be his tomb. ...
"Kall."
Kall blinked. For a breath, he'd thought it was Cesira's voice—impatient, always commanding, but with an underlying softness she tried to hide. He looked up, but it was Meisha who addressed him.
"There might be another way out," the Harper said. "The Climb. It should lead all the way to the portal room."
Kall met her eyes and saw the reluctance there. "What aren't you telling me?"
"We might all die in the attempt."
"Of course." Kall looked around the group and received answering nods of assent. They were with him. "Let's go," he said. Cesira's face was still bright in his mind.
I'm coming.
* * * * *
Marguin slid around the corner, using a mirror the size of her thumb to see that the way was clear. Elsis came behind her with an arrow nestled in the curve of a fully drawn bow.
"We know you're here, Lady," Elsis sang out mockingly. He tipped a silver candelabra off a side table onto the floor. Flames licked at the expensive woven rugs, sending up charred fumes. "The longer you hide, the more painful it will be when we catch you."
Movement from one of the doorways caught his eye. Elsis trained his bow on the spot, but it was only Marguin's reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall.
The house was too damn quiet. There were so many rooms that connected to other rooms without spilling back into the main hallways. The bitch could be leading them around the house, and they'd never know it.
Catch this, breathed a voice at his ear.
Elsis swept the bow in an arc and released. The arrow did not have far to travel. Less than two feet away, it splintered through Marguin's armor near the base of her spine. The woman made a small, pitiful cry and dropped in front of him. Elsis fumbled another arrow from his quiver and nocked it, but he did not hear the voice again. He was alone in the hallway with Marguin's body curled at his feet.
* * * * *
Cesira watched the man with the bow scour the hallway. She didn't have enough spells to run him out of arrows, but she was more than willing to disquiet his search. Murmuring a word, she cast the ghostly whisper again. This time, his arrow shattered a mirror.
Crouching low, Cesira crept back to the servants' stair. Two down—more if any from the downstairs trap were still incapacitated. Still too many, she thought, plenty enough to box her in, and there was no sign of Balram. He must still be in the main hall. He wasn't going to make it easy by coming for her himself. Going to him would be beyond foolish.