Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,12

deep enough to reach lava. Both it and the other, smaller cracks must have resulted from the powerful earthquake that had rocked Undermountain four years ago, a few months before the Selvetargtlin attack on the Promenade. If Eilistraee’s statue was above this spot, the rubble-filled shaft leading to the Pit of Ghaunadaur would be somewhere nearby. It too would have been affected by the earthquake. The walls of the shaft must have cracked open wide enough for the gray ooze to slither out.

Leliana whispered her thanks to Eilistraee for setting her feet on this dance. She and Naxil had gathered important information this day, information the high priestess would want to hear. The oozes Qilué and her companions had driven from Undermountain and sealed in the Pit centuries ago were once again on the loose.

Leliana lowered her hand. The good news was that she and Naxil were still somewhere within Undermountain. Assuming this cavern system wasn’t completely isolated—a dead end—they might yet be able find their way back to the Promenade. She prayed again. “Eilistraee,” she whispered. “Show me the path. Lead me back to the Promenade.”

She felt a sense of rightness coming from the direction they’d been headed, a sense of wrongness behind her. She led Naxil around the corner, closer to the lava-filled crack. “The way back lies on the other side of that gap. Can you climb past it?”

Naxil moved ahead to inspect the wall. He whispered a prayer that would protect him from the hot stone and jammed his fingers into a crack in the wall. He braced his foot on a slight ledge and eased himself up. The ledge immediately crumbled, and his fingers slipped out. He moved to a second spot and tried again, but with the same result. He turned and shook his head. “We can’t climb past it. The stone isn’t strong enough.”

Leliana held up her hand and indicated her gold ring. “We’ll use levitation magic to get across. I’ll go first, then throw my ring to you.”

He nodded.

Leliana sang a hymn that would shield her from the worst of the heat. She ran forward and activated the ring just before reaching the crevice. She drifted over the gap, supported by the ring’s magic. Heat rose in waves, enveloping her body. She glanced down and saw glowing lava deep in the crevice. A puddle of something golden floated atop it. She thrust a hand against the ceiling, halting herself, and peered down through the shimmering heat waves. She’d been right. That was the construct.

Before she could push herself onward, a wave of dizziness swept over her. It was as if she’d just spun wildly in place. “But I didn’t,” she said aloud. “I was … the glow. Red lava gas flow dizzy down …” She drifted downward, away from the ceiling.

Naxil nicked a sign in silent speech. Leliana couldn’t make sense of it.

“Leliana!” he shouted aloud. “Your sword!”

Leliana frowned. Why was the lip of the crevice rising up to hide Naxil, and why was he shouting about swords? There was nothing here to fight. She shook her head violently, trying to clear it. The sudden movement spun her in place, which only made her dizzier. “Up float dizzy I think I’m …”

The ring responded to her command, lifting her out of the crevice until her head and shoulders pressed against the ceiling. Despite her protective spell, the stone felt hot. She shoved herself away and drifted down again. No—that wasn’t right, either! She tried to catch the lip of the crevice, but couldn’t reach it. She caught a glimpse of gold on her finger. Oh yes, her ring. Levitate. Up. The words, however, came out all wrong: “Floating chimney down.”

She descended.

“Down … no, up.” She rose. Her head cracked the ceiling.

“Mistress!” Naxil shouted.

Naxil sounded… What was the word?

“Worried!” Leliana shouted, laughing with delight at having gotten the word correct.

It was hot bobbing around above the crevice. Really hot. Sweat trickled down her face. A tiny corner of her mind shouted that she should be doing something before her proŹtective spell ran out. That thought was lost in the swirl of confusion that jumbled her thoughts like … like …

Naxil ran forward to the edge of the crevice and leaned over it, one hand extended. Did he want her to give him something? He made urgent gestures that reminded her of Jub pulling on his net.

“Hand over handover handoverhand …” Leliana sang. She knew she was babbling. Knew she should… sing a prayer