Troy Denning Dark Sun Prism Pentad 04 Obs

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"No, he thinks you used magic or the Way to disappear," replied Sacha.
"Good-then I'll be able to take him by surprise," snickered the king. "Now,
tell me how we get out of here."
"When you put Wyan and me in here, there's only one way we ever found," Sacha
replied, laughing bitterly. , Tithian scowled. "And what's that?"
"We wait-until someone takes us out."
� * * * *
Agis looked up the tunnel and saw the blocky silhouette of a small Joorsh
crawling toward him. Although the figure was not large enough to be an adult,
it filled the corridor completely. The noble could see that, even had the
giant been willing to let him pass, there was no room to squeeze between the
lumpy body and the passage's slick walls-much less to do so without alerting
the warrior to his presence.
The Joorsh stopped crawling, and Agis feared that the giant had glimpsed him
peeking around the corner.
Although his heart began to pound like a Gulgian war drum, the noble forced
himself to remain motionless. If the
Joorsh was not sure of what he had seen, the last thing Agis wanted to do was
draw attention to himself by making a careless move.
To the noble's immense relief, the giant peered back over his shoulder. "I see
the Oracle, Sachem Mag'r!" he called. His voice was that of a boy, but it was
so loud that it shook the narrow tunnel. "A red glow, just like you said!
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It's real bright!"
"What?" Mag'r's coarse reply thundered down the passage with a deafening
rumble. "You see a bright glow, Beort?"
Beort nodded. "Very bright," he said. His tone was not as enthusiastic as it
had been a moment before.
"Something's wrong!" the king growled.
Before the youth could look down the tunnel in, Agis's direction, the noble
backed away from the corner. He picked up Tithian's satchel and slung it over
his uninjured shoulder, then he crossed the tiny chamber to where the crevice
in the ceiling met the far wall. He paused there to pull his injured arm from
its makeshift sling.
The limb was in no shape for a climb. From the elbow down it was grossly
swollen and discolored, with a huge purple lump directly over the break
itself. The noble tried to lift it and discovered that the muscles would not
obey his will. The injured arm had become a dead weight.
A quick glance at the wall's sheer surface confirmed Agis's suspicion that it
could not be climbed with a single functioning arm. The noble closed his eyes
and visualized a healthy, fully functioning limb in its place. He opened his
spiritual nexus and felt a surge of power rise through, his body, then he
guided this energy into his injured arm.
A pang of agony shot from the point of the break back through his arm and even
into his chest. Agis concentrated on the image of an oasis pond, keeping his
muscles and mind relaxed, allowing his suffering to flow through him like the
wind. The edge quickly faded from his pain, and soon the anguish tapered to a
dull ache.
Agis opened his eyes again and tried to lift his arm. A surge of spiritual
energy flowed into the limb, bringing with it a fresh wave of agony, but his
hand slowly rose into the air. He flexed his fingers, curled them into fist,
and a opened them again. Then, convinced that his arm would serve in spite of
his injury, he stepped over to the wall.
Using thick sheaves of mica for handholds, he climbed.
Agis had not healed his arm, he had merely used the Way to animate it, much as
he had animated the dead bear
when they entered the castle. To move the limb he had to summon energy from
deep within himself, then consciously direct it to do what he wished. Each
time he did so it sent a fresh wave of pain rushing through him, but the noble
hardly noticed. He was accustomed to pain. Besides, he felt certain that
letting the giant catch him would result in agony much more severe than what
he was suffering now.
Just a short distance from the ceiling, as Beort's knees were scraping along
the floor outside the chamber, the noble heard a soft hiss from one of his
handholds. The mica peeled away from the wall, and Agis felt himself beginning
to fall. The satchel slipped off his shoulder, landing on the floor below. He
paid it no attention and thrust his good arm up into the crevice, his fingers
madly grasping for another grip. He found the edge of another sheet, clutched
at it, and pulled.
His fingertips scraped along the surface of the crevice, finding purchase in
a. rough-edged hollow. Agis quickly transferred his weight to this arm and
pulled himself up into the crevice, bracing his back against one wall of the
fissure and his feet against the other.
As soon as he felt secure in his new perch, the noble looked down at the
satchel he had dropped. Although he didn't know what Tithian had stored
inside, it seemed too valuable an item to leave behind. He closed his eyes,
preparing to retrieve it with the Way. " In the same moment, a rush of hot
breath filled the room, and Beort crawled inside. Agis opened his eyes again
and found himself looking down on a mass of greasy braids, as large as a
kes'trekel's nest and just as tangled. The Joorsh boy's shoulders were so
broad that he had to turn them sideways to fit through the chamber entrance,
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and his arms were as long as a normal man was tall.
"There's nothing here!" Beort yelled. His gaze fell on the satchel, and he
reached across the room to grasp it.
"What's this?"
The noble began to climb, leaving the sack to the young giant. Although he
tried to move as quietly as possible, he was more concerned with speed. Even
if the Joorsh heard him, Beort would have to turn over on his back before he
could thrust one of his long arms up into the rift. The noble ascended quickly
and quietly, pushing his back up the fissure a short distance, then bringing
his feet up. By the time the young giant had pulled Agis's binding off the
satchel and peered inside, the noble was already halfway up the crevice.
Stuffing Tithian's satchel into his belt, Beort craned his neck and peered up
into the crevice. Although safely out the youth's reach, Agis climbed even
faster. The youth squinted in the noble's direction, trying to shield his eyes
against the sunlight with a massive hand. "What's that?" he asked, rolling
onto his back "Come down, you!"
His heart pounding from the hard climb and the exhilaration of escape, Agis
returned his attention to his ascent.
He had neared the top of the shaft, where the silvery mica reflected the sun's
crimson rays with such intensity that even the air seemed to glow blood-red.
Just a few more moments, he told himself, and I'll be safe.
The ruddy light was suddenly replaced by a shadow. Agis looked up and saw one
of Mag'r's brown, puffy eyes peering down into the rift
"What's wrong, Beort?" he demanded. "Where's the Oracle?"
"Ask the man," came the reply. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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