Dissolution (The War of the Spider Queen series Book 1) by Richard Lee Byers

Author:Richard Lee Byers [Byers, Richard Lee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786956753
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2010-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

“I have a healing potion,” said Ryld. He took a small pewter vial from his pouch, unstoppered it, and held it to Pharaun’s lips. The wizard drank the liquid down.

“That might be a little better,” Pharaun said after a moment. “But it’s still bad. I’m still bleeding. On the inside, too, I think. Do you have any more?”

“No.”

“Pity. A wretched little goblin did this. I can’t believe it.”

“Can you walk?” asked Ryld.

Pharaun would have to move or be moved, somehow. He couldn’t just lie in the street, not in the Braeryn, not on a night when the hunt was out. It was far too dangerous.

“Possibly.” The mage strained to lift himself up with his hands, then slumped back down. “But apparently not.”

“I’ll carry you,” said Ryld.

He gathered the mage in his arms, and bidding Pharaun do the same, called upon the magic of his House insignia. They floated slowly upward, and swung onto a rooftop.

The view from that vantage point was far from encouraging. Screaming undercreatures ran through the streets and alleys of the Braeryn with whooping riders in pursuit. The dark elves killed the goblins with the thrust of a lance, the slash of a sword, or simply by trampling them under the clawed feet of their lizards. They tended to find intimate mayhem more amusing. Some, however, had no qualms about loosing a quarrel or conjuring a blast of magic.

Still other drow wheeled above the scene on foulwings, wyverns, and other winged mounts. Ryld saw danger on every side.

He hauled Pharaun up against a sort of gable in the hope that it would provide cover against the scrutiny of the flyers.

“It’s bad,” the swordsman said. “A lot of drow are hunting. There’s no clear path out of the district.”

The wizard didn’t reply.

“Pharaun!”

“Yes,” sighed his friend, “I’m still conscious. Barely.”

“We’ll hide here until the hunt ends. I’ll cover us with a patch of darkness.”

“That might w—”

Pharaun gasped and thrashed. Ryld held on to him for fear that he’d roll off the roof.

When the seizure ended, the Mizzrym’s face seemed gaunt and drawn in a way it hadn’t been before. More blood seeped from his wounded stomach.

“This isn’t going to work,” said Ryld, “not by itself. Unless you have some more healing, you’re going to die.”

“That would be … a profound tragedy … but …”

“We have plenty of dark elves in the Braeryn tonight. One of them surely brought some restorative magic along. I’ll just have to take it from him, or her. Here’s that darkness.”

Ryld touched the roof and conjured a shadow that covered the Master of Sorcere and not much else. With luck, the effect was localized enough that no one would notice the obscuration itself.

The weapons master rose and raced away. Whenever possible, he ran along the rooftops, bounding from one to the next. Often enough, however, the houses were far enough apart that he had to jump down to the ground and skulk his way through the slaughter.

It was at such a time that he saw another hunting party.

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