Gargan's sword tore the creature in two in a way that was anything but tidy.
The golem reeled, pieces of itself flopping all over. The tendrils holding it precariously to the ceiling strained and snapped free of the stone, and the golem tumbled to the ground. It wheeled and writhed, trying to reform. Its tendrils slithered and whipped, caught in death throes.
Climbing to his feet, Liet breathed out in relief, but his eye fell on the fallen elf. ' 'Light!' he shouted, taking a step toward her.
When Twilight's gloved hand moved, Liet's breath caught. Then her blood-streaked face turned up to him. He smiled, and the tiny twitch of her lips might have been an attempt to return it.
Slip was on her way, healing at the ready, a tremendous smile on her face. 'We got it!' she squealed.
A tendril snaked up behind her.
'Down!' Twilight shouted, yanking the halfling off her feet and rolling over her.
Eyes wide, Liet saw what was about to happen and threw himself down.
The golem lashed out, its tendrils a whirlwind of whips that caught the three within. Liet cringed and jerked as his body felt dozens of kisses and slashes.
When it was over, he looked up to see a bruised and battered Twilight lying, unmoving, where she had collapsed limply over the halfling.
' 'Light?' Slip screamed, shaking her by the shoulder. 'Wake up!'
The golem, its fury spent, collapsed into a quivering mass of tendrils.
Liet blinked at the two, then at the golem, then at the staggering Gargan. Then he realized that if he didn't act, no one would. Whether Twilight lived or not, the rest of them would certainly die if Liet did nothing.
'Now!' Liet shouted. 'Burn the ropes!'
'But magic doesn't work, remem-?' the halfling said.
'Torches!' Liet said. 'Flints! Anything!'
Slip looked confused, almost hesitant. Then she looked down at the limp Twilight, who had saved her life. She pulled out one of the flints they'd collected and struck a torch. Then she produced several vials of lantern oil from the small bag at her waist-why she had them, Liet had no clue, but he didn't care-and in heartbeats, the three had doused the quivering ropes. Liet threw his torch on the pile, and the hangman golem twitched and thrashed its way to motionless oblivion.
For a moment, all was terrible silence in the aftermath.
Then Twilight coughed where she lay. Liet rushed to her side to help her up, and she took his hand. She offered a kind of smile, marred by the blood trickling down her slashed cheek. Then, as though just realizing their proximity, she pushed at his chest.
Her finger had hurt like a punch-a two-handed punch. Nothing had struck him so hard-not the guardians, not the golem, not even Taslin…
Taslin.
Silently, Twilight limped from Liet's side to where Slip stood over the unmoving Taslin. Liet wanted to go to her, but he could only stare at Taslin's body. The golem had been destroyed, yes, but the toll was heavy. Even at this distance, Liet knew there was nothing to be done for the golden elf.
'Well then,' said a voice, startling them. 'Enjoyed ourselves, eh?'
Liet turned, numbly, to see Davoren walking toward them. He had not been injured-likely, he had spent the entire battle hidden, safe.
The words stabbed into Liet's numb, shocked ears. He looked at the sword in his hand, and almost ran over to ram it down Davoren's throat right then. It was illogical to blame Davoren for Taslin's death, but Liet wasn't feeling logical. He was afraid of the warlock, yes, but he could do it. He could…
Then he noted something new: a gold rod carved like a snarling dragon hanging from Davoren's belt. That must have been what he had collected during the battle. Rather than giving aid against the golem, he had gone instead for treasure. Liet couldn't sense magic the way Twilight seemingly could, but he guessed that Davoren had become a little stronger, while the rest of them had become weaker.
'At least the rest of the time we spend getting out of this wretched place will be quiet,' said the warlock, prompting a roomful of horrified looks.
Liet couldn't reply in the face of such vitriol. He looked instead at Twilight, kneeling beside Taslin. She was shaking. 'Are you well?' he asked.
Twilight did not respond. Her hand kept caressing the dead elf's hair.
'Of course she is,' Davoren said behind him. 'Spared of scar-cheeks, who wouldn't be?'
'Don't you care?' Slip cried. Her cheeks flushed, streaked with tears. 'Don't you care that she's dead? Don't you care about anything?'
Davoren shrugged. 'Of course I care.' He nudged Taslin's corpse with his boot and looked down disdainfully. 'Her magic was the source of our food.'
Fighting outrage, Liet clenched his sword hilt with white knuckles. He had to suppress his anger-he had to. Then he looked at Taslin again and felt empty.
'That raises a point,' Davoren asked. 'Can your pitiful Yondalla conjure us up something more filling than unsweetened cakes and seeds? Else, this journey is liable to be a hungry one.'
The halfling hissed at him with surprising vehemence and huddled against the staring priestess, sobbing.
' 'Light?' It was Liet.
Twilight did not reply except to gaze down. She pulled her hand away from the ravaged face and hair. The elf's eyes bugged out at her, and her mouth hung open, tongue distended. What acid and heartache had not managed-ruining golden beauty-death seemed to have accomplished.
Unsurprising, that. Twilight knew all too well the power of death.
Twilight felt the constriction about her neck again, and almost wished it real-that she could die in Taslin's place.
She wondered what was going on behind her. She looked away from Taslin's body-that brute thing, no longer her companion-toward her comrades.
Face burning, Slip sobbed over the corpse, while Davoren smirked, tapping his fingers against a dragon- shaped scepter he wore at his belt. Liet stood aloof, hand on his sword; he didn't meet Twilight's gaze, and she appreciated that.
Gargan was saying something in the goliath tongue, and Twilight could not understand. Trembling, she bent down and gently took the ensorcelled earring from Taslin's ear and put the device in her left ear lobe. She heard an arcane hum, and suddenly she could understand everything Gargan said. She caught him in mid sentence, but he said enough.
'-found no trace,' said the goliath, pointing up, where the creature had clung to the ceiling. 'Its trail was not on the floor.'
Twilight ran-limping, but she ran.
' 'Light!' shouted Liet. 'Where-?'
Sword in hand, feverish, Twilight darted back through the chambers, eyes raised. She followed their exact path, but she wasn't watching as the corridors flew past. Somewhere along the way, her hip smashed into a broken table and she stumbled, but her eyes never left the dusty ceiling. To an onlooker, she must have looked quite mad.
Finally she arrived back at the spellcasting chamber and searched above. With a wrenching wail, she collapsed to her knees in a pool of dried lizardfolk blood, clutched herself tightly, and fell to cursing.
'I was right,' she gasped. 'Oh, Erevan! I was right.'
When the others came a breath or three later, staring at a madwoman, Twilight was still swearing incoherently and weeping angry tears, staring up.
There, the path of long coils-the path she had followed from the site of the ambush-terminated at the secret door.
