there no end? No-' His hands moved, and he caught at her. Shandril found herself dragged down onto the rock beside him.
'Must… must…' he hissed weakly.
Shandril grunted and struggled against his grip, reaching for a weapon she no longer bore. And then, inches from her ear, she heard a surprised 'Oh.' The pressure on her shoulders eased, and his hands became suddenly gentle. Shandril looked up into his eyes, now open and aware. They met hers in wonder, and in them she saw dawning hope, and confusion, and regret.
'I pray your pardon, lady. I have hurt you.' His hands fell away, and he scrambled to rise, rocks rolling all about. He fell back weakly.
Shandril put her hand out to him. 'Lie still! Rocks must be moved first. Your feet are covered. Do they hurt?' She clambered past him as she spoke, wondering to herself if it would be safest to leave him helpless, unable to reach her. But no; she could trust this one. She must trust him. The rocks lifted easily. They were many, but small.
'I-can feel nothing. My feet seem… a little bruised, but no worse, I hope.' He smiled wanly. 'Lady, what is your name?'
'I-Shandril Shessair,' she replied. 'What do they call you?'
'Narm,' he replied, moving one foot experimentally. It felt intact, so he rolled over to help her free his other foot. 'How came we here?'
Shandril shrugged. 'I ran. The fight went on, and-was that you following me?'
'Yes,' he replied, grinning.
After a moment she grinned back. 'I see,' she said. 'Why?'
Narm looked down at his empty hands for a moment and then into her eyes. 'I would know you. Lady Shandril,' he said slowly. 'Since first I saw you at the inn, I have… wanted to know you.' Their eyes held for a long silence.
Shandril looked away first, reaching to take up the glowing globe and cradle it in her arms. She looked at him over it, eyes in shadow, long hair veiling her face. Narm opened his mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked, and then closed it. She was looking at him steadily.
'The cavern fell in upon the others,' she said abruptly. 'We have been buried, walled off.'
Narm sat up, heart sinking. 'Is there no way out?'
Shandril shrugged. 'I was looking for one when I saw you,' she said. 'Can your art open a way?'
Narm shook his head. 'That is beyond me. But I can dig, gods willing,' he said with a nod. 'Where did you leave off looking?'
Shandril went forward with the globe. 'Here,' she said. Slowly, carefully, they moved along the stones, shining the globe high and low. But they found no gap. Together they continued on around the walls of their prison. Reaching their starting point, they straightened wearily.
'What now?' Shandril sighed.
'I need to sit down,' Narm said. He selected a large, curving boulder and sat, patting the rock beside him. Slowly, Shandril moved to join him. Narm swung a battered sack from his shoulder and pulled it open. 'Are you hungry?'
'Yes,' Shandril replied. Narm handed her a thick sausage wrapped in oiled cloth, a partially eaten loaf of round, hard bread, and a leather water skin.
'What is it?'
'Only water, I fear.'
'Good enough for me,' she said, taking a long swig. They ate in silence for a time.
'Who was that sorceress?' Narm asked suddenly.
'She called herself Symgharyl Maruel, or The Shadowsil,' Shandril said. She told him of the Company of the Bright Spear, and of finding herself imprisoned in the cavern, of how the bone had brought her to Myth Drannor, and The Shadowsil to this place. She stopped her speech suddenly and eyed Narm. 'Your turn.'
Narm swallowed a lump of bread quickly and shrugged. 'There is little to tell. I am an apprentice of the art, come from Cormyr with my master, Marimmar, to seek out the lost magic of Myth Drannor. When we reached the ruined city, we met several Knights of Myth Drannor, who warned us away from the city, speaking of devils. But my master thought their counsel false, and he tried to enter the city by another route.' Narm paused and took a pull from the skin. 'Marimmar was slain. I would have died as well, had not another pair of knights rescued me. They took me to Shadowdale, where Lord Mourngrym lent me an escort back to Myth Drannor. I came upon you and was nearly killed. The knights healed me, and I… persuaded them to come through the gate with me to… rescue you.'
They looked at each other.
'I thank you, Narm,' Shandril said slowly. 'I'm sorry I ran from you and led you into this.' Their eyes met. Both knew they would probably die here. Shandril felt a sudden, raw regret that she had found a man so friendly and so attractive too late. They had met just in time to die together.
'I'm sorry I drove you here,' Narm replied softly. 'I am not much of a warrior, I fear.'
Wordlessly Shandril passed him the bread and clasped his forearm as the company clasped those of their equals. 'Maybe not,' she said after a time, desire stirring within her, 'and yet I live because of you.'
Narm took her hand and raised it slowly to his lips, eyes on hers. She smiled, then, and kissed him on impulse.
It was a long time before they parted and looked at each other. 'More sausage?' Narm asked hastily.
And then they both laughed nervously. They ate sausage and bread, huddled together in the gentle light of the globe. 'How came you by this globe?' Narm finally asked.
Shandril shrugged. 'It was here,' she said, 'with the other treasure. I know not what it is, but it has served me as a lamp. Without it I wouldn't have found you.'
'Yes,' Narm said, 'and my thanks for that.' The look in his eyes made Shandril blush again. 'You asked about the dracolich. This is the first time I've ever seen one, but my master told me of them. They are undead creatures, created by their own evil and a foul potion, just as a fell mage becomes a lich. A depraved cult of men worship such creatures. They believe that 'dead dragons shall rule the world entire,' and they work to serve these dead dragons so that they will be favored when this prophecy comes to pass.'
'How does one serve a dragon, save as a meal?'
'By providing the potions and care it needs to achieve unlife,' Narm replied. 'After that, they provide spells and treasures. Servants also provide a dracolich with information and much flattery when visiting.'
He fell silent as they ate. After a time, Shandril asked quietly, 'Narm, how great is your art?'
Narm shook his head. 'Feeble, lady. Too feeble. My master was a capable mage, though I have never seen him hurl magics as the Lady Jhessail of the knights did, back there.' He nodded at the darkness where the rocks had fallen to wall them in. 'I know a few spells of use, a few more that are but tricks or little things used to hone the will or the nimbleness of mind and fingers, and the names of a few who may tutor me further. My master is no more, and as a mage, I am almost nothing without him.'
'Something more than nothing rescued me,' Shandril countered. 'You did, and your magic was strong and swift when I needed it. I–I will stand with you and trust in your art.'
Narm looked at her for a time and laid his hand on hers. 'I thank you,' he said. 'It is enough, indeed.' They embraced, holding each other fiercely in the near-darkness. 'We may die here,' Narm said abruptly, in a low voice.
'Aye,' Shandril said. ' 'Adventure,' they call it.'
Abruptly, from the back of the cavern, they both heard clearly the click and clatter of a falling stone. They fell silent, listening, but there were no more sounds of moving rock. They exchanged worried glances, and then Shandril picked up the globe and held it high. Its radiance fell across the rocks but revealed nothing. Narm stepped carefully toward the wall of rock, dagger in hand. He walked about for some time.
'Nothing, my lady,' Narm said, returning. 'But I found this for you.' He held out a pendant of electrum wrought in the shape of a falcon in flight, set with garnets for its eyes. She took it slowly, smiled, and hooked it about her neck.
'My thanks,' she said simply. 'I can only give you coins in return. I am sitting on a heap of them, and one at least has fallen into my boot.'
