To Light a Candle: The Obsidian Trilogy, Book Two by Mercedes Lackey;James Mallory

Author:Mercedes Lackey;James Mallory
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2009-02-22T15:24:00+00:00

It was as large as Merryvale-the entire village could have been dropped down neatly inside it, walls and all. There were scattered small huts, and along the cavern wall, Kellen could see holes-they reminded him uncomfortably of very large rat-holes-in the rock.

The Elves stood, silent, motionless.

What are they waiting for? Kellen wondered. He wasn't looking forward to this any more than they were, but it wouldn't get any easier-or any better-if they waited.

And where were Jermayan and Ancaladar?

He looked toward Celegaer.

Celegaer met his gaze, and there was despair in the black eyes. After a moment, Celegaer spoke.

"Search every structure, every hole. Find them all, down to the smallest infant. Kill them all. No survivors. No prisoners." The Elven commander's voice was harsh.

He turned away, striding toward the nearest hut.

The Elves fanned out, spreading across the cavern floor.

For a moment there was silence.

Then Celegaer screamed, and the cavern exploded in a harsh babble of barks and whines.

Kellen ran in the direction of the scream. He was too late. Celegaer was dead, his face and the front of his armor eaten away by a liquid thrown at him by a Shadowed Elf female who had just come out of the stone hut. The archers on the rim had filled her body with arrows, but they had been too late to save their commander.

Celegaer's troops were staring down at him in shock and horror.

"Search the hut!" Kellen ordered. "Keep your shields forward-we know they use poison as a weapon-now we know they use acid, too."

He moved on quickly, heading for the next hut. The doorway was low; he had to duck to get inside.

It was one room, windowless, and it stank. It contained a pile of furs and three small children.

I can't do this, Kellen thought in sick horror. He knew they weren't children-they were Shadowed Elves-but they were young things. Very young. They hissed at him, cringing back from the light.

Then suddenly all three of them shrieked and sprang at him. There was no fear in their bulging pale eyes, only the berserker madness of cornered rats. They swarmed up his body, scrabbling for every purchase, clawing and biting at everything they could reach.

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