The Dream Spheres (12 page)

That brought a faint, rueful smile to Danilo’s face. “When you put it that way, I sound like a coward and a fool.”

“I’ve noticed that humans often err on the side of caution when dealing with the well being of those they love, but I am puzzled. You can accept that I make my way as a warrior, but not the possibility that my sword’s magic might falter. I wonder what you trust: my skills or my sword.”

He regarded her with bemused respect. “I had never considered the matter in that light. Your logic is remarkable.”

She shrugged. “Problems are like enemies: you name them, track them down, and do whatever it takes to kill them.”

Danilo threw back his head and laughed. As he did, the heavy burden of indecision lifted. Perhaps he could not yet see a way clear for them to be together, but Arilyn’s forthright approach to the matter made him believe that one did indeed exist. “So what do we do now?”

“Assume that my task is in Waterdeep. As long as I tend the needs of the elven folk, I doubt that any but the most dire emergencies will summon me to the forest.”

Hope began to dawn in Danilo’s heart. He took her hand and led her over to the cot, and he kept her hand

in his as they sat together. “And if the forest elves have need of you, they will have to take me into the bargain. It is that simple.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” she cautioned him.

“Where elves are concerned, nothing is ever simple.” Danilo reached over and cupped her cheek in one

hand. “What dream worth having is easily gained?” “True, but—”

He stopped her argument by sliding his hand over her lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she mumbled through his fingers.

She did not seem inclined to further conversation. Her eyes drifted shut as Danilo began to stroke her along her jawline with gentle fingers, then moved back up to trace the elegant points of her elven ears. Few humans understood the intimacy of this gesture. Years ago, in the first bright flush of young manhood, Danilo had been well schooled in such matters by an indulgent elven harp mistress.

Arilyn sent him a look of mock suspicion. “How do you know such things?”

“The benefit of a well-rounded education.” He held up both hands, palms toward her.

Without hesitation, the half-elf placed her fingertips to his. Slowly their hands eased together until they were palm to palm. It was a simple contact but far more intimate than any kiss or embrace they had yet shared, For it was the beginning of the elven handfasting, a personal ritual as old as the seasons. Their eyes locked, ;heir hearts opened to each other, and the circle was begun.

“The summer is nearly past, the harvest moon beckons the night,” she said in a soft, wondering voice, begin-ling the traditional words of the pledge they were about o make.

Danilo wondered if she realized that she was speaking in Elvish. It was an unconscious acceptance, one he was determined to honor as well as any human man might. By elven standards, their time together would be short. He would die when she was still young; did that mean that he was never to live? Perhaps nothing about elves was ever simple, but this one thing was plain: for him, to deny Arilyn was to deny life.

Their fingers linked, and he repeated the next words of the handfasting pledge. There were more words, accompanied by graceful movements that held the power of spellcasting and the subtlety of starlight. Danilo was not certain when their words melted into silence, and he did not care.

The elven patterns were exquisitely slow, torturously sweet. At some point, the ritual melded with a deeply personal, shared pattern of their own creation, one that was no less sacred for its newness.

Arilyn’s patience with elven subtleties shattered before his. She pulled away and tore at her confining shirt with fierce abandon and utter disregard for the laces.

The sound of ripping linen startled her. Danilo burst out laughing at her befuddled expression, and after a surprised moment she joined in. Further bound together in the mirth only he seemed able to inspire in her, they sank down together to her cot, bathed in the mystic blue light of the moonblade’s magic.

A moment passed before the implication of that fey light pierced their shared oblivion.

Arilyn sat up abruptly. “Damn!” she spat, glaring at the inconvenient sword.

Danilo let out a long, unsteady breath and nodded in heartfelt agreement. At least the moonblade’s light was blue, not the faint green glow that warned of a dream to come and a forest journey to follow. That was some consolation. The danger of which it warned was close at

hand. Name it, track it down, kill it. That, he could deal with.

He reached for his sword belt and boots, trying to remember precisely how they managed to end up on the floor. Arilyn was quicker and was dressed and battle ready in moments.

Her eyes took on a distant expression as she drew the elven sword. “Tren,” she murmured. “Here in the building.”

In a moment she was gone, shouting a warning to the dwarven guard as she raced down the stairs. Danilo followed, drawing his sword as he clattered after her.

The curtain concealing the guard’s alcove rustled. Four enormous claws punched through the fabric and sliced down, shredding the curtain. Out leaped a hideous reptilian creature, fully the height of a tall man and at least two stone heavier.

Danilo stopped, impressed despite himself. He’d heard that tren were like lizardmen, but that was true only as a dwarf could be said to resemble a human. Compact and powerful, the creature was thick with muscle and armored with leathery green hide. Spikes lined its backbone and jutted from behind each elbow joint. Long, powerful arms ended in hands so enormous that each clawed finger was fully the length of a human’s hand. A long, livid cut traced the bony ridge above one eye.

“This time,” the creature said, addressing Arilyn in a voice that sounded like rocks tumbling downhill, “we finish this.”

“Watch the claws,” Arilyn snapped back at Danilo.

“Watch the dwarf,” Danilo riposted. He threw his weight against Arilyn and sent them both tumbling down the last few steps.

Just in time. As he suspected, the tren had already dispatched the dwarven guard. Even as Danilo spoke, the creature reached back into the alcove and hauled out two objects: a small shield and a disembodied

dwarven leg—still booted. The tren hurled the latter at the attacking humans.

The gory weapon whirled over them as they fell. It crashed into the stairs with enough force to splinter wood.

Arilyn rolled and came up on her feet. She came in hard and high, sword flashing with a quick, three-stroke attack. Her moonblade clattered against the wooden shield as the tren deftly parried each blow. The creature danced back a step, then leaned forward and swiped at her with one long arm. She dodged the blow and riposted with a quick thrust. The moonblade sank deep into the tren’s forearm.

With astonishing speed, the creature pivoted on one massive foot, yanking its arm free of the sword—and pulling Arilyn along. Before she could get her feet back under her, the tren hit her with a brutal shield smash.

The slight half-elf went reeling back. Danilo stepped in, his hands empty but for a bit of bright green silk. He hurled the fabric square toward the creature. Snarling contemptuously, the tren swiped at the puny missile.

However, Danilo had already begun the spell. The silk caught in midair, just beyond the slashing claws, and began to spread into a thin globe, rapidly encircling the tren.

The creature backed toward the open door, thrashing about with shield and claws in an attempt to shred its prison. Glistening beads of black oil began to gleam along its fang-lined jowls. A hint of its foul scent-weapon seeped into the room just before the magic globe closed in.

Rank, swirling mist filled the globe, and the tren’s struggles redoubled as it sought to escape the full force of its own stench. The creature quickly saw that it could not escape, and its yellow eyes darted from the young wizard to the angry half-elf. Arilyn stalked in, sword level and ready.

Changing tactics, the tren dropped its shield, spun away from its attackers, and fell forward onto its hands. This sudden motion tilted the globe forward. Running on all fours, the tren set the globe spinning toward the open door. The wooden lintel groaned and shuddered as the encased tren pounded through.

Danilo raced out into the street after it, with Arilyn close behind him. She quickly passed him as they wove through the morning crowds. Not that their passage was hampered overmuch—the tren’s flight took care of that. Passersby ran screaming from the weird sight. Horses shied and reared, pawing the air and whinnying in terror. A cart overturned, spilling a load of cabbages onto the cobblestone. Danilo kicked one out of the way as he ran.

“The magic won’t hold long,” he managed, hard-pressed to keep up with the more agile half-elf.

Even as he spoke, the green globe dissipated like a child’s soap bubble. The freed tren scuttled down a side street, its former quarry in close pursuit.

Suddenly the creature stopped and hunched over. Its massive arms corded as it strained upward.

“I don’t think so,” Arilyn muttered, running straight for the tren.

Before Danilo could guess her intent, she leaped at the creature without pausing to draw her sword. She landed so that she was nearly face to fang with the tren and standing on whatever it was trying to lift. Danilo glimpsed the gleam of steel in her hands, then saw her knife flashing toward the tren’s heart.

The tren’s muscles bunched and heaved. Lock and hinges gave way with a shriek of metal, and the sewer cover burst free. The tren straightened abruptly, sending Arilyn tumbling up and over its massive shoulder. Danilo noticed that her knife was no longer in her hands.

The sudden movement had spoiled her aim. The tren turned back and tugged the weapon out of one shoulder.

Contemptuously it flung the knife aside, its long black tongue flicking out as if to taste the half-elf’s scent.

“Mine,” the creature rumbled in dire promise, then dropped into the sewer tunnels below.

Arilyn was on her feet and starting down the ladder before Danilo recovered from the shock of her bold attack. He let out a colorful oath and strode toward her. “What now?”

She looked at him as if he’d turned as green as the tren. “We follow”

Danilo regarded his fine suede boots and groaned. They were new and as good as ruined, but there was no help for that. Arilyn would go, whether he accompanied her or not.

Danilo had heard much about the sewers of Waterdeep. Part public necessity, part hidden highway, they wove an intricate web under the city. This was his first direct experience with them, and much of what he saw was surprising. Some tunnels were finished with carefully dressed and fitted stone and might well have been corridors in some castle or dwarf’s stonghold. Others were simply dug into the rock. Twists and turns were frequent, and in moments he had lost all sense of direction. Nor was this the only level. More than once the stone floor gave way to iron grating. Stones kicked by their passing fell far to land sometimes with a muffled click of stone on stone, sometimes with a splash. Water marks rose high on the wall, indicating that the tunnels were flushed. After what seemed to be hours wading through ankle-deep sludge, Danilo concluded that it was high time for another such cleansing—provided the mysterious powers who handled such things didn’t mind waiting until they had vacated.

“At the risk of sounding ignorant,” Danilo said, his voice muffled by the hand he held clasped over his nose, “precisely how are you tracking this thing? Surely not by scent! What are we looking for?”

Arilyn stopped at a cross tunnel and considered her path. “I’ll let you know when I find it.”

“Oh, splendid,” he said, throwing up his hands in disgust. “In all fairness, my dear, I should inform you that the mood is now thoroughly broken.”

The half-elf nodded absently, then strode forward to study some marks on the wall. “This way.”

Danilo sighed and fell in behind. “What are we following?”

“Trail sign. The tren who attacked us was a clan leader. He left marks to direct the rest of the clan.” She darted a somber look back over her shoulder. “They met here earlier and split up to attend to different tasks.”

“Thoughtful fellow to lead you right past those marks,” Danilo commented. “A trap, perhaps?”

“It’s possible,” she admitted, but her pace did not slow. Danilo shook his head and followed.

They slogged down the tunnel to its end, then climbed a ladder out into the city. This one did not lead them into an alley but into a narrow, dark passage that rose straight up.

Arilyn gritted her teeth in annoyance. “A garbage shaft,” she said shortly. She tapped at the fresh claw marks on the stone. “Up we go.”

The shaft was a long one. Climbing it was slow going, for the stone was smooth and the blocks tightly fitted. They tested each possible handhold or footrest carefully, for often what appeared to be a small stone ledge was nothing more than an accumulation of caked-on powder. Danilo soon began to suspect their destination from the scents and substances that layered the stone.

“The good news,” he gritted out as he hauled himself up to the next secure handhold, “is that this is not a privy shaft.”

Arilyn glanced back at him. “That much I already knew. What’s the bad news?”

“Unless I very much miss my guess, this is a wizard’s

tower,” he said grimly. “You’d better let me go in first.”

She nodded and let him take the lead. Before much longer, he caught sight of a faint, fading blue glow in the tower ahead. It beckoned them on, grim evidence of a magical battle waged—and most likely lost. Danilo redoubled his efforts, hoping to get to the unknown wizard while there was still something left to save.

Finally he reached the ledge. He cautiously peered over the edge, alert for attack from either a triumphant tren or an angry wizard.

The room was silent and empty. Danilo dragged himself over the ledge and rolled onto the floor. He reached down and pulled Arilyn up into the room, then turned to survey the tower.