Obsidian Chronicles - 3 - Dragon Venom by Lawrence Watt-Evans

Author:Lawrence Watt-Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Tor Books

Familiar Faces

32

Familiar Faces

The ledge on which Arlian stood narrowed ahead of him; he turned his back to the wall and crept along, looking for a way down. The thirty-foot slope below the ledge was not vertical, but it was far too steep to climb; if he slid down that way he would probably reach the bottom unhurt, but he would never be able to make his way back up.

But then the ledge ended, or at any rate took a sudden downward step—about a four-foot drop to a lower, slightly wider ledge. After a brief hesitation, Arlian lowered himself. Clambering back up would not be especially difficult; if he were fleeing a waking dragon, though, it would be a very unwelcome delay.

This second ledge sloped downward more steeply than the first, and the floor of the main chamber sloped upward; this gave Arlian hope that they met, somewhere in the darkness ahead.

This hope was dashed when he finally came within sight of the cavern’s far end—but by then the drop was a mere ten or twelve feet, and he could see a break in the wall below, a crack a few inches wide. With a running start he was fairly certain he would be able to jump up, catch his fingers in that crack, and boost himself up to the ledge.

He eyed the stone carefully, to make sure he was not fooling himself about the distances; he studied the floor below to make certain that his running start would not require stepping on dragons’ tails or in pools of venom.

It would not be easy—but he had not come this far to be stopped by so small an obstacle. He sat down, swung his feet out over the edge, and set the lamp on the stone beside him, thinking.

Carrying a lit lamp down would not be easy, but it would be very useful to have it while he collected venom. Leaving it on the ledge would only light this end of the chamber, but would be far safer.

While he considered alternatives he swung his spear over the edge, lowered it down as for as he could, then let it fall; it clattered on the stone below, louder than he had expected.

He paused, waiting to see if any of the dragons stirred, but the only sound he heard was his own breath, the only movement he saw the flickering of his lamp.

He took off his cloak and laid it on the ledge, then unslung his pack and lowered it over the edge, reaching down as far as he could before releasing it. He removed his coat and dropped it onto the cloak.

Then he picked up the lamp, took a deep breath, and jumped.

The lamp’s flame flared up wildly as he fell, as much from the wind of his fall as from any drifting clouds of venom, but it did not go out. He landed hard, and sprawled forward, but kept his grip on the brass handle. Hot oil splashed across his glove, but did not ignite.

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