Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,81

Again, the others seemed unaffected. An icy weight settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered if his lack of aura somehow made him more vulnerable to the Fount’s effects. Would it kill him outright, or would he become savage and twisted like the Wyrgens, turning upon his friends without a glimmer of recognition? Even as his thoughts darkened, the strange affliction receded somewhat, the weight upon him lessening. He dragged in several deep breaths, forcing his weakness behind an inner wall forged of anger and determination. While it did not dissipate entirely, he found he was free to operate once more.

Syth stared at him with one eyebrow raised. “This is madness. We could spend a lifetime within these stone walls and never find the Half-Ork. And in your condition, you will be of no use at all if we blunder into a group of Wyrgens.”

“You talk too much, Syth,” Amric gritted. “If you want to reconsider your options here and now, you will find I can still muster some strength.”

The thief’s gaze flickered to each of them in turn before returning to Amric. Then Syth broke into a lopsided grin. “Let it not be said that I took unfair advantage of you in your weakened state, warrior. We will settle our differences when you have recovered.” He wagged one finger in the air, sheathed in the black metal of a gauntlet. “But do not think to put off our reckoning forever.”

Amric snorted and walked toward the damaged door.

“Do not turn your dead eye on me, you lumbering reptile,” Syth said, scowling at Valkarr. “You can take your place in line behind Amric. Just keep it fair, mind you. I will not fight you both at once. I have seen your kind fight recently, and though I am very skilled, I am no fool.”

Amric froze in mid-stride, and wheeled about to face the thief.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

Syth’s brow furrowed. “I am no coward, but fighting you both at once seems less than––”

“Not that,” Amric interrupted with an impatient wave. “You saw Sil’ath fighting recently?”

“Yes,” Syth answered, eyes darting between Amric and Valkarr as he took in their sudden interest. “I mentioned earlier that I was far from the only victim of Grelthus’s deception. Some weeks ago, the Wyrgen led a small group of lizard folk––like your friend here––into that huge Fount chamber. He brought them through the chamber containing my cage, just as he did with you, and fed them the same story about me being a dangerous criminal and he the compassionate diplomat for sparing my life. I think he meant to capture them, as he did me. But he caught me alone and unawares, and these five Sil’ath were all quite alert and bristling with weapons, just like the two of you. Regardless, the biggest of them seemed suspicious of his tale, and kept measuring me with his eyes.”

“That would be Prakseth,” Valkarr murmured. “He has a strong sense of justice, and will not be swayed until it is satisfied.”

“Go on, Syth,” Amric urged.

“Grelthus convinced them to follow him into the amphitheater, insisting that the answers they sought could be obtained by closer examination of the Essence Fount itself. He was lying, of course. That cur cannot move his mouth without lying, but he bolsters his deceit with enough facts to make his words seem sound. The big one gave me a surreptitious nod as they left, though I know not what he meant by it.”

“Prakseth meant to return for you,” Amric said softly. “He would not have left you here, if it was within his power. What transpired then?”

Syth shifted his feet before continuing. “I surmise that Grelthus intended to trap them in the amphitheater, to study the effects of exposure to the Essence Fount on another race. These plans went awry as well, however. Dozens of infected Wyrgens flooded the chamber and gave chase. Grelthus, slippery eel that he is, escaped with his life, leaving the reptile warriors battling the rabid Wyrgens.”

“The Sil’ath, did they perish?” Amric asked. His words, quietly spoken, carried a hard edge and promised death. Syth flinched and cleared his throat.

“I cannot say for certain,” he said. “I was trapped in my cage, and though I nearly burned myself on the bars striving for a better vantage, they became obscured from my view by the lip of the terrace below. They were giving a ferocious accounting of themselves, however, for the Wyrgen dead were heaped about them