Jaleigh Johnson - The Howling Delve

• Название: The Howling Delve
• Автор: Jaleigh Johnson
• Жанр: Фэнтези

---

When the scene faded at last, Meisha saw the breached wall, just as the vision had rendered it. Empty.

"The demon's awake," said Dantane.

"I don't understand," Meisha said. "Why did he do it? Why did he stay to fight?" He could have escaped, come back when he'd recovered from Prieces' death and the battle with the elemental, Meisha thought. Why had he fought the demon in his weakened state, using magic to merely put it to sleep?

"What was that spell?" asked Dantane.

Meisha had no idea. "It seemed to allow him to control the demon, at least in that moment."

"Through a mental connection," said Dantane, nodding. "It requires a focus. In this case—"

"The jarilith's eye," said Meisha, and the truth dawned on her. Varan hadn't been weakened or desperate when he'd cast the spell. He'd known exactly what he was doing. "Watching gods, he couldn't have wanted to keep it alive," she said.

"For curiosity's sake," Dantane affirmed. At Meisha's revolted expression, he added, "Fueled by arrogance, I grant you. Your master saw a new vehicle to test his spells and acted accordingly, believing his will would be enough to overcome the jarilith. He discovered differently, to his doom. The spell drove him mad."

Dantane's voice was coldly matter-of-fact, but he was right. Meisha accepted the truth, though it filled her with a profound anger and disappointment in her former teacher. "Are they still linked?" she said. "Is that why Varan opened the portal and cast us down here? Is the demon fighting him for control?"

"Fighting him, fighting the dwarves," said Dantane. "There may be hope for us and your master, if that's the case."

"But if the demon escaped from Varan's spell, why is he still down here? Why has he not tried to get to the surface?"

"Can't you feel it?" Dantane asked. "The demon's aura? It's everywhere."

Meisha nodded. "I've felt it ever since I was a child. I still wake at night blanketed in the dread and the cold. I just never had a name for it before. What does that have to do with the demon's escape?"

"He doesn't want to escape," Dantane said. "From the dwarves, yes, and from Varan's control, but the Delve has been absorbing the demon's essence for a century or longer. The Delve has become part of him—the ideal hunting ground. I suspect all the demon wants is something worthwhile to hunt."

"Through Varan, he's gotten everything he needs," Meisha said bitterly. "All he has to do is pick us off one by one."

"An appealing fate for the Shadow Thieves that may have followed us," Dantane said. "In fact, without the demon's interference, we might have died at their hands."

"Astounding how the gods sort matters out," Meisha muttered. "This way," she said, leading Dantane on to the next testing chamber. "We have to move quickly. We don't know where the demon is now."

As with the other chambers, raised rock platforms dominated the next room they entered, but the entire back wall of the cavern had gone, plucked from the surrounding stone like a cork from a wine cask. Darkness, impenetrable by her spell light, stretched down a long passage Meisha had never seen before.

"A permanent tunnel of darkness," Dantane said. "Small wonder your master concealed this entrance. There will be traps and wards, unless he cleared them himself."

"Let's hope so," Meisha said. "We'll have enough to worry about when we find the jarilith." She took stock of her weapons. Her stilettos were gone, but she still had one dagger. Fire crackled in her mind. "Ready?"

Dantane nodded and stepped forward. They were almost to the mouth of darkness when they heard the demon roar.

* * * * *

Talal didn't look back. He knew the creature had turned to pursue them. He could hear the sizzle-click of his paws hitting the stone. The beast's huge strides would have overtaken them immediately if the passage hadn't kept making sharp corners.

Morgan swung around a bend and came up short, shouting, "Too narrow!"

Talal fetched up behind Laerin. He saw the bigger man wedged between two slabs of stone. Beyond lay an open chamber.

"We can't go back!" Laerin shouted, before he plowed into Morgan from behind.

Morgan's tunic ripped as Laerin's weight pushed him through the narrow gap. The half-elf followed, and Talal, grateful for once to be the slightest, had no trouble slipping through the crack.

In the chamber beyond flowed an underground river.

Talal stopped and stared at the black water darting with shadows under the torchlight. The river rushed from a fissure in the northwest corner of the room, flowing out through a wishbone shaped crack at the opposite end. On the other side of the water, the cavern dead-ended.

Morgan crouched at the river's edge. He splashed handfuls of water on two wicked slashes across his chest where the stone had cut into his flesh. "That's got it," he wheezed. "Game's over before it began."

Talal looked at Laerin. "We're trapped," he said. "Maybe if we double back—"

A loud keening drowned out the rest. Talal went down in a protective crouch, while Laerin and Morgan turned to see what had made the sound.

Curved claws raked the stone, stabbing through the gap in the rocks. Stone chips flew, and the smell of brimstone filled the chamber.

Every coherent thought fled Talal's mind. Rationally, he knew the demon couldn't penetrate the layers of rock, not quickly, but all he could hear were the claws shearing away the stone.

"Get in the water!" Morgan shouted to be heard over the awful sound. "Swim to the other side!"

Talal backed away—he'd never liked water—but Laerin dragged him into the river, and soon he was forced to swim.

The current threatened to pull him down. Talal fought it, but it took Morgan's strong arm to haul him out on the other side, else he would have been carried away.

On the opposite bank, the sound of the river muffled the demon's claws enough to allow them to talk.

Morgan, his hair dripping in lanky strands around his exhausted face, said, "Figure it drove us in here?"

Laerin nodded. "I probably cracked a pair of your ribs, pushing you through that gap. He's wearing us down."

"Not much need for that," said Morgan, "once he corners us."

"I don't think he'll do that yet," said Laerin. "He's just stretching his legs. He knows we'll get out of here." The half-elf pointed to the wishbone in the wall. "That way."

Talal blanched. "We don't know how far the river runs, do we? That thing won't need to kill us if we drown first."

"I'm willing to bet there's another chamber nearby," said Laerin. He looked at Morgan. "What do you think? Can't be much longer than that sewer tunnel in Waterdeep."

"Least the water's cleaner," Morgan said. "I think I got enough breath in my lungs."

Talal couldn't believe what he was hearing. They were all lunatics.

"Give me back the fire-woman," he muttered.

"Sorry," Morgan said, "Fire can't go where we're headed." He inverted the torch he carried into the river.

Instantly, Talal went blind. The oppressive darkness of the Delve closed in around him. He felt Laerin's hand on his shoulder, prodding him toward the rushing water. Reluctantly, Talal waded back into the frigid river and let the current snare him.

Treading water, he felt the downward sweep to the wishbone just before his shoulders brushed rock.

For a moment, Talal panicked. He braced his hands on either side of the passage, resisting the water's pull with all his strength. He didn't want to drown. He'd end up a blue corpse in the dark, and no one in Faer?n would care.

"You can't fight it forever," said Morgan's voice in his ear. "But you can go on your terms."

Talal forced a steadying breath into his lungs. Calmer, he closed his eyes and remembered how it was to feel his way in the dark. He'd done it before. He could do it underwater.

Cautiously, he let his hands slide down the stones, following the curve of the wishbone.

Pretend it's a lass's legs, Dirty Bones, and stop your whining.

The water closed over his head.

Froglike, Talal swam with the current. He kept one hand above his head to brush the stone ceiling, searching for air. The river propelled him forward at a quick pace. He sensed Morgan and Laerin beside him now and then, though he could see nothing in the dark. The water dragged at his shirt. Talal stripped it off and left it for some deep-dweller to find.

Ten feet farther Talal's shoulder banged against something rough and unyielding. Talal hoped it wasn't alive, or if it were, that it couldn't swallow him. He kicked sideways and realized the river bent, angling off to his left. He had no choice but to follow the path.

His lungs began to burn. Unconsciously, he let a tiny gasp of air escape. The respite was brief, however, and the burning sensation that followed was excruciating.

Kicking feebly now, Talal allowed the river to carry him. His hand dragged limply across the unbroken rock ceiling. He felt no gap, no magical pocket of air to save him.

The muscles in his abdomen convulsed. His body demanded air, and in its absence was willing to drag in lungfuls of the killing water. Talal clutched his midsection, trying to hold in his last gasp.

His hand slid off the rock. Talal spasmed, sucking in a freezing cold breath. His lungs suddenly felt heavy. His muscles contorted in agony. Then the pain went away, and the cold, and Dirty Bones went to sleep.

* * * * *

He awoke vomiting water.

Talal heard Morgan cursing and felt the big man's arm supporting his chest as he emptied the river from his body.

When he could breathe again, Talal looked around. They were in another tunnel, but he could hear the river somewhere behind him. Morgan must have carried his body a short distance before reviving him. Talal had thought himself dead. He shivered violently at the memory of his near-drowning.

Laerin offered a hand to pull him to his feet. "We can't linger here. The creature will follow the river and fence us in again if we don't keep moving."

They moved off down yet another tunnel, but Talal trailed behind. His legs felt rubbery, and his lungs still ached. The only thing that kept him moving was the presence of the demon's frightening aura, steadily building behind them. Every time they came to an intersection, Laerin changed their direction and increased his speed. Soon they were running again. Behind them, the sound of rain echoed in the tunnels, drawing closer.

"Keep turning!" Laerin shouted as they ran. "Out-maneuvering is the only way. If it catches us, there won't be any room to fight. We'll be running through a forest of razors."

Laerin skidded down a short, steep incline. At the end of the slide was a vast chamber that opened wide and dipped into a crater. Stalagmites, arranged like a maze, rose from the floor like trees, forming dense clusters throughout the room. Two paths led from one side of the chamber to the other.

"Help me," said Morgan, grabbing Talal by the waist.

"Let go!" Talal kicked air in a futile attempt to win loose, but Morgan's grip was solid. Laerin came up on his other side, snagging his foot. The half-elf went to one knee and hauled upward, tossing Talal bodily into the air. He landed hard on his stomach on one of the higher platforms. The breath whooshed out of his lungs.

"Stay there!" Morgan hollered when he rolled to the edge. The echo of another roar—so damn close!—and the sound of claws raking stone reached Talal's ears. He fought the urge to curl into a ball.

"Not enough," said Laerin. "The demon will smell him before it gets into the room."

"Suggestions welcome," Morgan growled. "Stand or run?"

Laerin regarded the two pathways through the chamber. Each led to a separate exit. "Split up," he said finally. "We'll each take a path. The boy can run along the top. With luck, it'll only be able to chase one of us. Talal can follow the other into the tunnel and hopefully find Kall."

"Awful lot of luck and hope in that plan," said Morgan, his face white.

Laerin smiled grimly. "We work with what we have," he said. He looked up. "Do you understand what we're going to do, Talal?"

Talal swallowed. "I got it," he whispered.

Laerin met Morgan's gaze steadily. "One more bet," he challenged softly. "Let it be a race."

Morgan grunted, but his grip faltered as he reached in his pouch and dropped two gold coins on the ground. "A race, then."

"Two danters?" Laerin whistled. "Heavy price."

"Seemed appropriate."

A deafening crash sounded nearby, but they felt the demon's approach long before they heard his claws again.

Morgan jerked his head. "Go."

Talal crouched near the wall, ready to jump to the next stalagmite cluster. He watched Morgan and Laerin take off at a sprint down their separate corridors. He glanced at the far tunnels, willing the pair to reach them before the demon caught up. He could feel the demon coming closer. Brimstone scent crawled over his skin, into his clothes.

"Run," he whispered, "run, oh run, oh run." He chanted it like a prayer, the closest he'd ever come in his life to crying out for divine intervention. But to whom would he implore? There were no gods left that he hadn't blasphemed. None of them would believe an abrupt conversion to the faith. Talal almost smiled at that, but he was too deeply sunk in despair and the horror of the demon's aura.

Talal suppressed a whimper when the beast entered the chamber. For a long, terrible moment the beast just stood there, then he raised his head and looked straight at Talal. Talal wanted to run, heedless of the consequences. He held himself down, scratching his nails against the stone until they bled. If he ran, the beast would kill him. Talal sensed the demon testing him almost teasingly with his powers. He squeezed his eyes shut against the awful fear.

Then it was over. The demon passed by, charging down one of the corridors. Talal opened his eyes and forced himself to stand, to watch the beast run down his prey.

From his viewpoint, above the scene, Talal saw which corridor the beast chose. The figure running before the demon—so small in comparison to the beast—never had a chance. At the last moment, he turned, his weapon brandished, and fell beneath hundreds of pounds of burning muscle.

The demon came down on the sword, howling in rage and pain, raking the body beneath him from shoulders to calves. At the same time, the beast's jaws closed on his victim's neck, snapping it with one careless jerk.

Bile burned Talal's throat. So much blood, and yet the demon ran on, trailing red prints down the passage on his hunt.

Talal didn't stop to grieve. He bolted for the other tunnel.

* * * * *

Kall opened his eyes when the green light faded. Garavin and Borl stood over him. He must have blacked out from loss of blood during the transition through the portal. The dwarf was binding his arm. His holy symbol hung away from his neck, brushing against Kall's bare flesh. Kall felt the same brief, warm jolt he'd felt years ago from the relic.

"Thought I'd lost all of ye," Garavin murmured as Kall looked around. The three of them were alone in a smaller version of the cave they'd just left. The circle of stones sat to his left, but there was no chasm in the floor or shaft above. The room was dark, but for lines of dim light shining through a pair of doors at the end of a narrow passage.