legs and bounding aside. That brief glimpse into the worm's mouth and throat - which were empty - told him that his fears had been realized.
The monster had swallowed Halisstra whole.
Rage seized him then, stronger and fiercer than any battle had ever provoked before. He found himself howling in an anguished voice, eyes hot with tears.
"Halisstra!" he cried.
Rushing forward, he slashed at the worm's throat. If only he could kill it quickly, there might still be time to cut Halisstra free be-fore the worm's digestive acids killed her - she would be disfigured, but she would live. And that was all that mattered.
Howling with each sword stroke, Ryld slashed deep rents in the worm's body. The creature had enough intelligence - instinct at least - to jerk its head and neck back, keeping them out of range of the sword, but with each fresh wound to its side it slowed. Encouraged, Ryld pressed his attack home, aware that each pass-ing moment was lessening Halisstra's chances. Stupidly, the worm lowered its head, giving Ryld a clear swing at its throat. Moving forward, he obliged it - then realized a heartbeat later that it had been a clever feint.
Even as Ryld leaped in to attack, the worm whipped its tail for-ward, revealing a stinger in its tail that Ryld hadn't seen before. The stinger glanced off the bottom of Ryld's breastplate and plunged into his stomach with the force of a knife blow, burying itself in his gut. Nearly blinded by the sudden rush of pain, he flailed backward, pull-ing himself free of the deadly barb. For two or three staggering steps he managed to hang onto Splitter, but with the pain of the wound came a rush of agony that felt like fire, sweeping in an instant from his wounded gut to the tips of his fingers and toes. In that terrible moment, Ryld knew thathe had been poisoned. Suddenly too weak to hold his greatsword, he let it fall.
He heard the clank of metal striking stone dimly, through ears filled with the sound of a labored, pounding heart. The pain was as intense as if someone had filled his gut with boiling water. He crashed to the ground, barely managing to break his fall with one outstretched arm. Clenching his stomach with his other hand he slowly forced his head up, intending to look the worm in the eye before it swallowed him whole.
At least, he thought as the poison poundedin his temples, he would pay with his own life for having caused Halisstra to lose hers. He would die beside her - a slow, painful death was exactly what he deserved.
To his surprise, he saw that the worm was not pressing its attack but had drawn back against the far wall. He must have wounded it more grievouslythan he'd thought. Then, to his horror, he saw a bulge form in the worm's side - and disappear. A bulge that could only have been made by a creature moving inside it.
Halisstra! She was still alive!
He saw that the tip of the songsword was still protruding from the worm's cheek and he realized she had nothing to save herself with.
Ryld tried to rise, tried feebly to reach for Splitter, but found that his body no longer obeyed his will. Each breath only increased the roiling agony in his gut, and the air around him seemed to have become tinged with gray. The arm he was using to support himself collapsed, and the floor rushed up to strike his face. The stone, he noticed dully, felt cool against his burning cheek.
Chapter Thirty-one
Pharaun peered in the direction Valas was pointing and at last saw what had prompted the mercenary's warning. Far across the Lake of Shadows, a storm was churning the surface. The water twisted in an enormous circle, as if flowing down a drain. Above the whirlpool was a waterspout that must have been a hundred paces high. The top of it bobbed up and down against the ceiling, scattering clouds of bats with each touch.
The storm was still some distance away but was approaching rapidly. Pharaun measured its progress as it passed through one of the beams of sunlight, and estimated its advance at the speed of a riding lizard run-ning full out. Already he could hear the low rush of spinning water. That the storm was magical he had no doubt. Had it always been there - or had something triggered it? Their use of the portal, perhaps?