Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,137

stern looks he flushed and hastily withdrew the offending gauntlet from the rock, but from the set of his jaw the man would not be turned back. Amric and Valkarr exchanged a look and continued up the path.

At the top of the escarpment, the warriors slipped over a raised lip and into a large crown of rock. They clung like shadows to the encircling wall, scanning their surroundings. Here, nestled within this giant bowl, was a marvel of vibrant greenery. A beard of ferns and thick bushes surrounded a strip of trees, and a carpet of fine grass led down to the jewel at the center of the crown, a clear, rippling pool. The waters curled and bubbled, fed from below by some brook or geyser that managed to force its way up through the heart of the crag. Amric shook his head in wonder. Life persevered, even amid such desolation. This explained the smoothing of the stone along the pathway, then. Rainfall and water pressure from below must couple to periodically flow over that lip, the lowest escape point, and over the centuries had carved a channel to the ground.

Amric dropped into a crouch, cocking his head to one side. There was no enemy in sight, but he knew with sudden certainty that they were not alone. One of his swords whispered free of its scabbard along his back, and he turned and melted into the bushes. Valkarr did the same in the other direction, and the warriors began gliding in a slow circuit of the place.

When Syth arrived at the summit, his mouth fell open at the sight that greeted him. He stepped forward onto the grass and took three quick strides toward the pool, grinning in delight.

“What heavenly place is this? I––” he began, and then he stiffened. The cold steel that appeared at his throat brought startling focus to several things in rapid succession. The first was that the scaly, muscular arm holding the weapon and the reptilian visage regarding him belonged to a Sil’ath, without a doubt, but it was not Valkarr. The second was that neither Valkarr nor Amric were anywhere to be seen. The last was that his senses had dulled considerably during his long months as an unwilling guest within Stronghold; he should never have allowed himself to be caught so blithely unaware.

Syth met the dispassionate eyes of his assailant and wondered if this Sil’ath could match Valkarr’s blinding speed. He knew himself to be swift as well, and with one quick twist he could bat that blade aside with a gauntleted hand––

“Do not try,” the Sil’ath said in a sibilant whisper. “I have no wish to take your head.”

“Tis an empty prize you would be claiming there,” called a nearby voice. Amric stepped from the undergrowth, and Valkarr rose like a wraith at his side. “And I must advise against making that strike, for fear of dulling your blade on his thick skull.”

Syth scowled at the grinning swordsman even as the blade at his throat fell away.

“Warmaster! Valkarr!” the Sil’ath exclaimed, striding forward to clasp forearms with Amric.

“Well met, Innikar,” Amric responded, clapping the newcomer on the shoulder as the fellow clasped forearms with Valkarr in turn. Another figure rose to its feet from a tall cluster of ferns a few yards away, and Syth jumped at its sudden proximity. It was another Sil’ath, more slender and wiry than Innikar or Valkarr, but no less formidable in appearance. The figure took a sinuous stride forward, and Syth realized with a start that it was a female of the species. Another round of the oddly formal greetings followed as she traded forearm grips with both Amric and Valkarr, and then she stepped back with a sly smile.

“You have both been away from home too long, if your senses have dulled so far as to permit a concealed potential enemy so near,” she said. “Valkarr, were you not the one who instructed me in the ways of stealth?”

“So I was,” Valkarr said with a grunt. He reached around and drew a small knife from his belt at the small of his back, reversed his grip on it with a flick of his wrist, and offered it to her hilt first. “Just remember that as long as I have been gone, Sariel, you have been gone longer still.”

Sariel burst into musical laughter and accepted the knife, returning it to an empty sheath at her hip. She ran an appraising look up and down Syth,