Prison Of Souls by Mercedes Lackey

Author:Mercedes Lackey [Lackey, Mercedes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1993-04-10T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter XVI Alaire emerged slowly from a deep, but restless, sleep. A confused and disturbing dream melted away as he became aware of his surroundings. First, the lumpy hay mattress, then the dank, musty odor of the room and finally the warmth and the humidity, and the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. He opened his eyes and tried to focus. The room was dark except for the orange glow of the stove. He sat suddenly upright, banging his head on the bunk bed above him; the sudden pain forced more wakefulness into his stiff body, his slow, numb mind. Where am I? was his only thought. Loud tavern sounds filtering down through the ceiling answered his question. I'm under The Dead Dragon Inn. Kai brought me here. The room had no windows, which added to his confusion. Uncertain how long he'd slept, he didn't know if it was day or night. What about Kai? he thought, with a sick suspicion that something terrible had happened to him. And my Master. Naitachal, what are you up to right now? He felt exhausted despite the long, deep sleep. The spell. Right. I've never reached that far, that deep for the energies before. Naitachal told me of mages who reached too far, even after years of experience, and scorched their own minds with energies too powerful for even them to handle. His raging headache was a good indication he'd done the same thing, on a smaller scale. What should I expect? The spell turned back death. It reassembled flesh, it restored blood. Looks like my head is going to pay dearly for it now. He must have slept all day, and he was tempted to go ahead and sleep another day, but something told him it was time to get up, that something was afoot. The Swords of the Association are all over the place by now, he thought. Would they ever think to look down here? Evidently, they hadn't yet. The sounds overhead, the singing, the stamping of feet, indicated the tavern was open and doing business, meaning it had to be night. He reached under the bed to make certain his harp was still there; it was, along with his other possessions. Kai must have left as soon as I was asleep, he thought. Gallen must be upstairs working. So that left him with one question. What am I to do now? He remembered that Kai had warned him they had to destroy the old clothes as soon as possible, and groped under his bed for the bag that held them, finding it by touch alone. He tossed the canvas sack with the bloodied garments into the stove, then added more wood to it. In moments a raging fire burned, destroying the evidence. The wool clothing stank as it burned, but it was something he was going to have to put up with. As the stove crackled and popped and the light increased, his eyes fell on a crude oak table, and the food left for him.

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