thrust his short sword blindly into the rock wall only inches from her head. She reacted instantly, driving her own blade deep into his chest. He roared in pain and fear and staggered away from her, the blade still buried in his body. Weaponless, she backed her way along the wall, hearing the stricken man’s grunts and moans mix with the guttural whispers of the two who remained. They would fan out along both walls and come toward her until they found her. But they would be more cautious. She would not get a chance to catch them unawares again.
She kept moving away, trying to think what to do. She could flee, if she chose, but her instincts told her that, unarmed and unfamiliar with the corridors, it would be impossible to get far in the blackness. The Gnomes, more at home in the dark, would hunt her down.
She heard them moving toward her already, their boots and clothing soft rustles and scuffs in the silence.
She needed another magic, she thought. But she did not know killing magic, so whatever she tried, it would only buy her a little more time. Perhaps it would gain her another weapon, but could she use it after what had happened? The memory of her blade sinking into the Gnomes she had killed was fresh and sharp and made her shudder. She wasn’t sure she could do that again. She wasn’t sure she should even try.
But she must try something.
Tell me what I should do, Ahren!
He couldn’t, of course—not even in her memories of all he had taught her—because nowhere in his instruction had he addressed such a situation. He had been teaching her basic elemental magic right up to the moment they had set out for the Lazareen. True, anticipating the dangers they would face, he had given her harder lessons on the way, but none of them seemed useful against furious Gnome Hunters stalking her in pitch–black caverns.
They were closing on her, the sounds of their approach more distinct. She had no time left.
Her back against the passageway wall, she turned toward them, lifted her hands, whispered into the darkness and used her fingers to guide the magic accordingly, then clapped her hands to her head. Instantly, the passageway was filled with blinding light, its brilliance equal to the intensity of the sun at midday. With her hands, Khyber shielded her eyes against the sudden glare, but the Gnomes were caught unprepared and left momentarily blinded. She charged right at them, dodged their groping hands and slashing blades and broke into the clear to race down the corridor in the direction of the furnace, the explosion of light behind her revealing the way.
The Gnomes were after her at once, heavy footfalls echoing thunderously, shouts and curses rising up. She ran faster. She had no plan but to get away from them, to reach the confluence of passageways at the furnace and disappear into them. Let them hunt for her then, if they wished. She would be much harder to find once they could no longer see her.
A wave of heat suddenly washed over her, surging out of the gloom ahead. Pale light flickered from far down at the end of the narrowing passageway, the glow of the pit fires rising into the furnace room. Her goal was in sight.
Then something slammed into her, low on her right side, spinning her around and filling her with a wash of pain and shock. A dagger jutted from the fleshy part of her side. It felt as if a red–hot poker had been jammed into her, but she couldn’t afford to take time to stop and pull the dagger free. She ran on instead, fighting down her sudden sense of weakness, hardening her resolve to reach the furnace room. Behind her, the Gnome Hunters were running to catch up, grunting from the effort, their breathing quick and heavy.
She reached the furnace just ahead of them, breaking free of the darkness in a rush that carried her right up against the metal railing of the catwalk that encircled the pit. She caught herself just in time, so close to the fires that she felt her hair singe and her lungs burn. She pushed away hurriedly and began to stagger along the catwalk. The fire pit yawned to one side, a deep, glowing chasm within which the earth’s exposed magma burned fiercely, the source of the Keep’s underground heat. Even with the fires dampened and the vents to the chamber open wide, the heat was all but unbearable.
She searched frantically for a way out. Several doors were set in the chamber walls, and across the way a spiral staircase wound upward to another. All were closed. She hurried to the nearest and tried to open it. It refused to budge.
Behind her, the Gnome Hunters stumbled into the chamber and caught sight of her. They hesitated for a moment, then split apart, one circling one way about the catwalk, one circling the other, trapping her between them. She moved quickly to the second door and pulled on the handle. It was locked, as well. The heat from the furnace fires and the loss of blood from her wound were making her dizzy. She felt the sticky dampness of blood all down her back. Her strength was fading.
She was in danger of passing out.
Bracing herself against the chamber wall, she reached back and pulled the dagger free. The pain was excruciating, but she managed to keep from collapsing. She had to get out of there, had to get through one of these doors. Even as she thought of doing so, however, she saw that it was too late. They would see where she had gone and come after her. They would have no choice, they could not afford to let her get away. Telling their Druid masters that they had let her escape would cost them their lives. They had to know that. They would keep coming until either she was dead or they were.
She felt a moment of despair. There was no way out. She was no match for the Gnomes. She was barely able to move, her growing weakness was coupled now with light–headedness and a sense of dislocation.
But she was the only one who knew of the triagenel. She was the only one who could warn Pen and Grianne Ohmsford of the danger.
With an effort, she straightened. She had her magic. She had the dagger.
Don’t let me fail.
She moved ahead as quickly as she could to the stairway that led up to the single closed door at its head, words and gestures forming tendrils of magic like invisible threads. As she reached the stairs, she pretended to stagger—a pretense that was only partially faked— stumbling and reaching out to catch herself. When she righted herself and moved on again, she left the dagger on the sixth step, at head height, point outward, tucked back against the riser where it wouldn’t be seen right away by the Gnome approaching from behind, the one now closest to her. A dozen paces farther on, she turned to face him, her back to the wall, waiting as he crept toward her, his blades glinting wickedly in the glow of the fire pit.
Closer.
When he was even with the step on which the dagger rested, she snapped her hands sideways in a sharp motion that jerked taut the tendrils of magic she had surreptitiously woven and attached and sent the dagger flying off the step and into the Gnome’s throat. The blow wasn’t enough to kill him, but the shock of it caused him to stagger into the railing, dropping both weapons to clutch at the wound. She was on top of him instantly, snatching up his dagger and jamming it into his unprotected chest, then slamming her elbow against his face with such force that he toppled backwards over the railing and was gone.
She hung on the metal stanchion and stared down into the pit, gasping for breath. One left.
When she straightened, the final Gnome was crouched a dozen yards away, watching her. They stared at each other across the fire pit, measuring their chances. Having witnessed the fate of his companions, he was clearly in no hurry to rush things. He might try to wait her out, she thought. Blood loss and exhaustion would claim her eventually. All he had to do was be patient.
To force him to expose himself, she started toward the chamber doors again, looking as if she intended to make her escape. The Gnome hesitated, then reached for the quiver of javelins strapped to his back, intending to kill her without getting close enough to be killed in turn. She paused at the first of the doors she came to, watching as he freed the first of his darts and hefted it into throwing position. She moved to the railing and crouched down again, making herself as small a target as possible.
It will take magic to save me. Earth magic, elemental magic. A little more of what Ahren worked so hard to teach me.
She gritted her teeth against a fresh wave of pain and began working her hands in subtle motions, drawing on fire to save her. It was there in the pit, all she could ask for, enough to accomplish anything, enough to put an end to this.
If I can remember how to summon it.
Her concentration faltered momentarily as she allowed herself to be distracted by the Gnome’s stealthy approach, but she refocused instantly.Steady your efforts. Her head swam. She could hear Ahren speaking to her,
