Howling Delve (The Dungeons) by Jaleigh Johnson

Author:Jaleigh Johnson [Johnson, Jaleigh]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786963850
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-08-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Howling Delve

4 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

This was a great idea,” Talal said sarcastically as he held the torch around Meisha’s body.

The Harper turned, flames catching in her eyes. Talal flinched. “Are you really going to walk at my heel with that thing, or can I carry it? ”

“My torch, Lady,” Talal said, holding it out of reach.

“Then would you care to lead?” She pointed down the dark, unfamiliar passage.

“I’d care to go back to the warrens!” he complained, handing her the brand. “I showed you the wizard. Haroun says that’s enough, and she doesn’t even know he tried to kill you.”

“You told me your people explore these caves constantly, looking for ways to escape.”

“I told you we draw lots for the pleasure,” Talal argued. “Stain one stone with berry juice, put the rest in a sack, and choose. Tymora’s lucky whipping boy gets a torch, a weapon, and a trip down the tunnel to have his wits smashed all over the place. That’s what happened to Gadi.”

“He was killed?” Meisha shone the torch down a side passage and listened. She heard nothing but the distant, constant drip of water. When she’d lived here, Varan had always made his apprentices safe, no matter how dangerous the Delve could be. Now the apprentices were dead, and Varan …

Meisha suppressed a shudder. Varan had become one of the threats in the dark.

“Smashed, I said. By whatever roams the tunnels outside your wizard’s shields,” said Talal.

“Varan warned us not to venture outside the wards. Even I don’t know what lies at the end of many of these tunnels,” Meisha admitted. “You say you’ve sent someone out already?”

“Braedrin,” Talal said, nodding. “Hasn’t come back yet. Smash,” he murmured under his breath.

“What are these marks?” Meisha pointed to the walls.

“Tells us where people have been,” Talal explained. “Means no traps, either.”

“Traps,” Meisha echoed. A mask of blood and a dead apprentice’s face flashed before her eyes.

“Don’t know who strung ’em, but they’re all over the place. We lost two that way when we first started going out. Pressure spears. Hit you square, one’ll take your head clean off. More of Lady Luck’s favor, the well-meaning bitch.”

Meisha raised an eyebrow. “You’ve a ready insult for all the gods. Which one do you actually like?”

The boy shrugged, dislodging a scuttling beetle from his clothing. “None of them—easier that way.”

“You don’t believe in the gods?”

“Believe, yes. But I leave them be, and I wish they’d return the favor.” He flicked away the beetle. “Not so much to ask.”

“What about after this life? Don’t you worry for your soul?”

“Hells, no. I’m aiming to live forever. See how I avoid prancing down dark tunnels with death-seeking sorcerers? I get along fine, Lady; it’s the rest of Faerûn that wants to muck me up.”

“How many of you are there in the warrens?” Meisha asked, shifting the topic.

The boy spent a moment figuring. “Thirty-eight. We took count of everyone, after the first death, so we’d know names. Forty-nine came into the caves, not counting that bastard Balram and his son.

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