Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,14

in it. The ooze shrank back on itself and withdrew into the crevice.

The blue flames flickered out. The ooze rallied, rising again.

This time, Leliana shucked off her chain mail and cast it aside. She yanked her padded tunic over her head, hurled it onto the ooze, and repeated her prayer. Cracks radiated outward across the body of the ooze as the ice flames “burned” into it. The ooze tried to extend an appendage, but its skin cracked apart, and the limb fell to the floor. It shattered, with the chunks dulling like nearly extinguished coals.

One more time. That would finish it.

Naxil was no longer screaming.

Leliana yanked off her shirt and hurled it onto the ooze. “Eilistraee!” she shouted as her hand swept down for the third time. The flames burning the shirt turned from red to blue, and the ooze roared in anguish.

Then it exploded.

Chunks of cooling ooze flew off in all directions. One slammed into Leliana’s shoulder, knocking her off her feet. Pain flared in her elbows as she struck the floor.

She rolled over as the smell of scorched hair filled her nostrils. And something more: burning flesh.

Naxil groaned. Low and deep.

She scrambled to his side. He lay face down. Leliana rolled him over, tore open his armor, and examined his chest. The burns there were so deep his flesh had been charred black; he’d need restorative magic to heal them. She tore his smolŹdering mask from his face and cast it aside. As she did this, she felt heat radiating from his face—it seemed to be flowing out of his nostrils and mouth. Something was happening to him. Something odd. Even those parts of his body that hadn’t been directly struck by the creature were affected. Something pulsed under his skin, leaving tiny blisters that formed a tracery across his skin, like veins.

Those were his veins. They were glowing. Hot as fire.

Terrified, Leliana began a healing prayer. Before she could finish it, Naxil’s veins erupted. Liquid fire oozed from the furŹrows, charring the surrounding flesh. More liquid fire oozed from his nostrils. A faint, sizzling noise filled the air: Naxil’s eyes, cooking in their sockets.

“Eilistraee! Aid him!” Leliana cried, one hand on Naxil’s forehead, the other extended to the place where the moon would be in the realms above.

Twined light and shadow swept down into the cavern, into Leliana, and on into Naxil. Eilistraee’s healing energy played about the body of the grievously wounded Nightshadow like a sparkle of ice in the moonlight, halting the burning within. As his body cooled, his veins lost their fiery glow. The trickles of liquid fire coming from his nostrils crusted over and fell away, and the burns in his body closed over. He was left, however, with terrible scars—and eyes that could no longer see. That was something Leliana couldn’t repair here; it would have to wait until they got back to the temple.

“Thank … you,” he gasped.

“Don’t thank me,” Leliana told him, wishing she could have intervened sooner—before he’d lost his eyes. “It’s Eilistraee who saved your life.” She touched his arm. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

She helped him to his feet. He was remarkably steady, considering what he’d just been through. He moved with a certainty that suggested he’d been trained in blind fighting. He cocked his head, listening, as Leliana retrieved her singing sword. It lay next to the ooze’s crusted remains. Even through the leather-wrapped hilt, the weapon felt hot. She noted the warp the creature’s heat had left in the blade. It would no longer fit in her scabbard.

“What now?” Naxil asked.

“We press on,” Leliana told him. She described for him what he couldn’t see. “The ooze retreated back into the crevice before it died, and it’s formed a natural bridge across the gap. As soon as it’s cool enough, we can cross.”

He nodded and touched his face. “My mask?”

“Burned.”

His hand fell away. He turned his head, but she saw his stricken look just the same.

She took his hand and placed it on her shoulder. “We need to get moving,” she said softly. “Get back to the Promenade and report what we’ve seen down here.”

“The oozes,” Naxil said grimly. “Ghaunadaur’s minions. They’re escaping from the Pit.”

Leliana shuddered. “Let’s pray the Ancient One isn’t next.”

CHAPTER 3

Cavatina made her way through the Hall of the Priestesses, a cavern filled with a soft blue-white light emanating from lichens on its ceiling and walls. Glowballs—off-white hemispheres that waxed and waned with the moon’s cycles—studded the buildŹings. The combined illumination made