The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,221

remove my clothing this time,” she said. “You will have other opportunities to admire me naked.”

“I can hear something being wound tight,” said Slîn, listening to the mechanism.

“Take care!” Rodario called to Mallenia. “I don’t like it. How do we get her up again?”

The Ido girl took off her belt and asked for Rodario’s as well. She swiftly tied them together and tested the knot. “If Coïra jumps she can reach this and we can pull her up.” She knelt and looked down. “Dark as the grave,” she said quietly.

“Horrid thing to say.” Rodario knelt also. The clicking still continued indicating that the grating had not reached the bottom. “Has it started yet?”

A blue shimmering light surrounding the maga showed that the source was bestowing its power.

They waited in silence. The tension in the chamber had them all sweating, except for Tungdil, who was the very embodiment of calm, as if he were in possession of a secret certainty that they would all leave the Blue Mountains alive with Lot-Ionan their captive.

Ireheart kept switching his attention between the source and the door. “I hate this,” he grunted, wiping his sweating hands yet again on his undershirt. “Oh, how I hate this. I’d rather be in a battle for a whole orbit.”

In the corridor all was quiet. Not a sound, no shouts, and no Lot-Ionan.

“Where do we go to find him?” Tungdil demanded of Franek.

The famulus shrugged. “He could be anywhere, but I reckon he won’t be far. I’m surprised he hasn’t turned up yet to see what’s…”

“Quiet,” ordered Balyndar. “Someone’s coming!”

Rodario could see that Coïra was undergoing contortions in the blue light, as if in intense pain. She crouched down, cowering and holding tight to the walls, swaying and moaning. This was not at all how he remembered events at the source near Lakepride. “Coïra, are you all right?”

No answer.

“We ought to get her out of there,” he decided, letting the end of the improvised rope down. “Catch!”

Ireheart stood behind Balyndar and Tungdil, taking care not to touch his friend’s armor as he peered out between them.

A young woman in a dark-blue figure-hugging dress raced toward the chamber, her long dark hair streaming out behind her.

Terrified, she glanced over her shoulder; she had not seen the dwarves at the chamber entrance. An arrow jutted out of her shoulder. A greeting from the älfar archers.

“The little sorceress is injured. Good!” murmured Boïndil. So she must have used up all her magic at the first encounter, and needs to get it recharged. She would be an easy victim. “Will you let me have her?” he asked Tungdil and Balyndar.

Bumina saw them and stopped short. “Dwarves? By Samusin, how did you get in here?”

Franek came up behind the dwarves and addressed Bumina. “You didn’t expect this, did you?” he said with malicious glee. “Oh dear, did the älfar hurt you?” He pulled out his dagger. “That’s nothing to what I’m going to do to you! You destroyed my town! The trap had your signature all over it.”

“Lot-Ionan made me do it.” Bumina studied the dwarves and tried to gauge what they would do. She raised her arms. “Get out of the way and let me into the source.”

Tungdil and Balyndar both raised their weapons at the same time.

Rodario called down the shaft, but there was still no answer from the queen. Uttering a curse, he jumped down, directing his fall as best he could by bracing hands and feet against the walls. He landed by Coïra, who had collapsed; he, too, was covered in a white light, but he felt nothing.

“What is it?” he said, helping her up.

“The source is incredibly… powerful,” she groaned. “I’m not used to it and it really hurts! It’s drenching me with power, more than I’ve ever known.” Her next sentence was a muffled groan and her fingers clutched at Rodario’s collar. “I can’t concentrate on finding the right spell to get out of here,” she stammered. “Help me…” Her body became rigid and then repeatedly convulsed unnaturally.

Rodario took her girdle and told Mallenia to throw down the improvised rope. He tied the belts together, fastened them to Coïra’s hands and threw the other end back up. “Pull her up!” he shouted, crouching down to lift her onto his shoulders. “I’ll support her from below.”

The rope tightened and soon the young woman was being pulled gradually out of the sphere of magic influence.

The clicking ceased, and the grille slid sideways under Rodario’s feet!

The dwarves up at the doorway