“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he replied. “There’s chance yet.”
“Undoubtedly,” the fey said. “But you got rid of the silkroot, didn’t you? Perhaps you’ll discover a cleaner death than it would have provided.”
“How did you…?” Brindani asked in shock.
“Its smell is faded,” Vaasurri responded and pulled a pouch from beneath his cloak, tossing it at Brindani’s lap. “Leaves from the same plant and odorless. Chew on them as you would the rootthey’ll help with the pain.”
Brindani stared at the pouch for long moments before picking it up in his shaking hands, ashamed for the horrors he’d unwittingly aided in following the group. Though as much as he wished to be free of his addiction, it was a weak will that he could wield against it, and he knew it would break. Just the thought of it churned his stomach anew, and the slight sensation of pins and needles in his gut caused him to gasp quietly for air.
“You won’t tell the others?” he asked.
“Not her, if that is your wish,” Vaasurri answered solemnly. “But Uthalion already knows.”
“How?”
“He doesn’t sleep,” the killoren said, turning back to his perch upon the rock. “He’s been listening to us all along.”
Thunder rumbled ever closer from the south, punctuating the growing dread in Brindani’s heart as Vaasurri drew his strangely carved bone-blade and studied the approaching clouds. Brindani stared at the weapon, blinking in disbelief and certain he’d just seen the patterns on the sword shift and squirm into new designs. Before he could look closer, the killoren nimbly leaped down to the spiraling cave mouth.
In the spaces between thunder and the growing wind, Brindani briefly caught the sound of fluttering wings echoing through the valley even as his hand absently traced the rounded edge of a small lump at the bottom of his pack. Wrapped tightly and tucked away, it called to him like an old friendout of sight, but not out of mind.
Ghaelya awoke to rough hands shaking her shoulders, curses, and husked whispers full of quiet alarm. Rising, she brushed Uthalion aside, glaring at him Wearily in the murk of the little cave and squinting over his shoulder at the darkness outside.
“I thought we were waiting until dawn,” she said.
“Change of plans,” he replied, placing a finger to his lips and crawling outside.
Her heart thumped in her chest as she collected herself and followed the human. She was greeted not by the yellow light of a rising sun, but the flashing white glow of lightning across a dark sky. Vaasurri stood sentinel at the edge of the descending valley, his sword in hand, studying the silent tide of curving walls with Brindani. As she and Uthalion joined them, Vaasurri merely nodded and took off at a quick jog.
“Let’s go,” Uthalion whispered.
She cursed them for their mystery, but respected the need for silence and fell in step. Though tired and still waking up, she quickened her stride at the sound of small rocks rolling down the sides of the valley, bouncing off trees, and trailing lines of disturbed dust. Thunder obscured much of what she strained to hear, but occasionally she caught the sound of scratchy whispers echoing in the dark behind her and high-pitched birdlike calls that kept her moving. She drew her sword, searching wildly for any sign of approaching danger, seeing naught but the flickering shadows of trees in each flash of lightning. The smell of rain and wildflowers carried easily on the quickening breeze of the rolling storm, a soothing scent that did nothing for the growing anxiety in her white-knuckled grip on the broadsword.
Brindani ran just ahead of her, his slight limp becoming more pronounced as the morning wore on. As her own legs grew tired of running, she caught herself huffing loudly for several breaths, receiving a concerned, yet warning look from Uthalion. Biting her lip, she bit back the angry retort that slipped quickly to the tip of her tongue and breathed evenly, passing the human and sticking close to Vaasurri.
Dark shapes flitted overhead, blurs of shadow darting from one side of the valley to another, and she ducked reflexively, gooseflesh rising on the back of her neck. With her eyes up, she stumbled a few times, cursing and slowing down, unable to divide her attention in the dark lest she break an ankle. The dim disc of a late morning sun teased with enough light to make out vague shapes and shifting shadows, but little elsejust enough to keep her warily watching and wandering when their pursuers would grow more bold.
“Eyes forward,” the killoren said grimly. “Seeing them won’t help.”
“What happened to being quiet?” she asked, breathless and feeling what seemed to be the first drops of a cold rain fall on her cheek. Brushing at the moisture, she felt it stick, fibrous and icy, like a cobweb covered in frost. She pulled it away in disgust, thin filaments of shadow sticking to her fingers.
“Not much point whispering anymore,” Uthalion answered from behind as Ghaelya ran headlong into a thick mass of clinging shadow.
It stretched, cold and clammy, against her skin, filling her mouth with the bitter taste of stagnant water. The fibers stuck to her teeth and muffled her curses. She pushed and thrashed against the dark wall of shadows, blindly pressing through and shivering in the effort. Droning wings hovered overhead as buzzing whispers reached her through the morass, taunting her in a haunting, harsh tongue that made her struggle all the more to escape.
Breaking through with a gasping breath, she stumbled forward into Uthalion’s shoulder, and he wisely gripped her sword-arm until her sight returned. Lightning struck at the far end of the valley, tracing thin arcing spots across her sight, and she could see well enough to spot the approaching figure. Barely more than a short silhouette, it hung in the air on large black dragonfly wings and regarded her with blank white eyes.
She froze in that gaze, even as more of the things streaked overhead, swarming beneath the half-light of the growing storm front. The being emitted a wet, smacking sound as it drew back a thin arm, wielding a short spear of living shadow. Its stomach churned with a strange glistening undulation. Ghaelya’s grim fascination quickly became the calm simplicity of battle as the beast hurled its weapon.
She rolled out of its path, fluidly giving herself over to the coiled tempest of water that flowed through her spirit. Rising, she slashed at a darting wing, slicing through the tip like thick parchment. She grinned as the thing shrieked and faltered. She turned, reversing the stroke through its abdomen, unleashing a dark torrent of cold, gushing shadow that drifted away like smoke. She charged others that drew too near, still running blindly south. Her companions were close, but beyond the reach of her unrelenting blade.
Dark javelins of shadow thumped into the ground around them, one cutting across her shoulder before disappearing in a puff of acrid smelling mist. The things buzzed overhead, still trailing webs of shadow that Ghaelya ignored. She cut-down another as she forced her way through its- chilling net, rising and falling with the tide in her heart. Pulses of energy flowed from foot to fingertip and back again as she lent her will and blade to the drowning force of her spirit.
Lightning and thunder struck the valley again, close enough to knock the breath from her lungs and set her ears to ringing. Staggering back as the fluttering creatures faltered in the wake of the thunderbolt, she caught sight of a featureless face, covered in a thick black carapace. There was an alien intelligence in its pale stare, an expression that held no reasoning; but no desire to which she might relate, only a cold nothing.
Vaasurri was right. Seeing them didn’t help.
“Here!” Brindani’s strident shout reached her through’ the ringing thunder and flashing lightning. It cut through the constant drone of wings and drew her to him.
He held onto the edge of a wide crevice in the side of the valley wall and waved his long sword high. The blade reflected the flickering white light of the stormfront. Fibrous streamers of shadow drifted into her path, muffling Brindani’s shouts as she dived toward him, once again blind and trusting to her instincts. Claws scraped at her cheeks and back, and pulled at her armor as she fought to reach the dim hope of shelter. As her arm brushed against rock, hands grabbed her and pulled her deeper into the dark.