He had traveled for some time after leaving the others in the cavern. A full moon hung above the tree-tops, half hidden by clouds but still casting so much light that it impeded his darkvision. The snow that covered the ruined temple was covered with footprints, but Ryld was able to pick out those belonging to the cleric and warriors of House Jaelre. They led in one direction only - into the tunnel. The escaped cleric hadn't returned that way.
Ryld scanned the trees, searching for any sign that more of House Jaelre's warriors might be lurking in the forest. Seeing none, he crept out of the tunnel mouth.
A moment later he heard a soft, melodic whistle. It was a tune he recognized.
"Halisstra?" he whispered.
Halisstra negated the spell that had rendered her invisible and rushed, over to embrace him.
"Ryld!" she exclaimed. "I thought you weren't coming back."
He tried to ask why she'd doubted him, but she pressed her lips against his, kissing him. For several long moments he returned her embrace, feverishly drinking in her scent and taste. She was alive! Then he remembered the warriors he'd killed - and the cleric who had gotten away.
"We can't stay here," he told her. "House Jaelre is on our trail. I ran into one of their scouting parties below."
"I know," she said, surprising him. "I saw three of them pass through the woods, just after sunset. I made some noise, and they were drawn this way. They didn't find me, even though they searched for a long time after finding my gloves."
"I'm glad," Ryld whispered fiercely. "No need to worry about them now, though. They're dead."
He heard her draw a sharp breath and thought she was reacting to his words. Then he realized that it was his grip on her arm that had prompted the gasp. She was wounded. Turning her arm, he saw a puncture just below the spot where the sleeve of her chain mail end-ed. The wound had been healed - probably by magic - but freshly so, since it still pained her.
"I think I got your gloves back," he said. "What happened?"
"Stirges. Dozens of them, but they're deadnow."
"How?"
"I blasted them with magic, then made myself invisible."
"With your lyre?"
When Halisstra shook her head and grinned, Ryld blinked in surprise.
"How, then?" he asked. "Has Lolth reawakened?"
Halisstra laughed scornfully and said, "Let's check. Are you awake, Lolth? Can you see this?"
Smiling fiercely, she made a blasphemous gesture, flipping her hand palm-up, fingers curled in the sign for a dead spider.
Ryld cringed, but several heartbeats later, when nothing hap-pened, he slowly allowed himself to relax.
Halisstra smiled and patted the hilt of the sword she'd taken from Eilistraee's cleric.
"I've found a new way to work my magic. I don't need my lyre - or Lolth - any more."
Ryld nodded, disturbed not so much by her blasphemy but by the fear of what would follow. Above them hung the moon - symbol of the god who had driven Lolth out of Arvandor. Was Halisstra about to be claimed by Corellon or one of the other surface gods?
Trying to ignore his own question, Ryld glared at the ruins of the creator god's temple.
"We should get moving," he said, more harshly than he'd in-tended. "This place is dangerous."
Halisstra stared at him a moment, then nodded and said, "Let's go."
With a quick motion of his hand, Ryld caught Halisstra's attention.
Be still,he signed. Then,do you hear that?
They had walked for the rest of the night through the forest without hearing anything but the pattering of the rain that was melt-ing the slush underfoot, but from somewhere ahead came the sound of an animal's howl. It was answered a few moments later by a second howl, somewhere to the right, that ended in a series of brief, excited yips. The yips had a pattern, almost like that of speech.
There're at least two of them,Halisstra signed back.
Ryld nodded. He peered into the forest but the light of the rising sun, slanting in through a crack in the heavy cloud cover, was ruin-ing his darkvision.
Halisstra reached for her sword as she signaled,They're coming our way.
Yes. And they're moving fast, but... He listened for a moment and heard a high-pitched yelp of alarm. They're not hunting. They're fleeing from something.
A grim look on her face, wet hair dripping onto the shoulders of her armor, Halisstra drew her sword. Curiously, she did not ready it but instead reversed the blade and held the hilt to her lips.