Sorrell had yet to prove himself. He nodded and stepped onto the first leaf, observing where Pendaran placed his feet. Nairen and Adair followed.
Koora reached the center of the spiral and vanished. Then Pendaran. One moment the grizzled knight was just ahead of Sorrell; the next, he was gone. Only a faint shimmer in the air marked the transition. Sorrell hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped on the center leaf himself.
It was as if he'd stepped into a cyclone. The world spun crazily around him, trees flashing past in a blur. Reeling sideways like a drunken man, he fell to his hands and knees. He glanced up and saw Pendaran staring down at him, a slight frown on his face. Sorrell scrambled to his feet, ignoring the scrapes on his hands-and on his dignity.
Nairen, then Adair stepped out of the center of the portal.
The mosaic they'd been transported to looked identical to the first, save for the fact that the leaves on it were red. Pendaran glanced around, then waved the group on.
Sorrell trudged along at the middle of the group, as instructed. In the Yuirwood, it wasn't snowing. The ground was clear, though icicles tinkled in the branches above. And it was cold; Sorrell's breath fogged the air. In years gone by, he would have wrapped a cloth around his throat and mouth to protect his voice.
He inhaled, savoring the bite of cold air inside his lungs.
A short time later, an outcropping of granite could be seen through the forest ahead. Pendaran halted the group and pointed out a crack, no more than a palm's breadth wide, that ran up the face of the rock. There it is.
He glanced around, then whistled softly. A moment later, a patch of brown detached itself from a nearby tree. It was a half-elf, her hooded cloak and trousers the exact shade of the forest around them, her face and hands stained a mottled brown. Save for her bright blue eyes, Sorrell would have had difficulty spotting her, even close up. Her boots must also have been magical; she moved without making a sound. She held a bow with a nocked arrow in one hand. She assured Pendaran that nothing and no one-visible or invisible-had passed through the crack since morning.
Pendaran glanced at Nairen.
The wild elf stood with closed eyes, her arms extended toward the crack in the rock. Pendaran nodded.
Adair leveled his spear at the crack and whispered under his breath.
Pendaran nodded again.
Nairen caught his leader's eye, shook his head.
Sorrell realized the Silent Slayers were talking to one another, comparing notes as they used magic to examine the cave. He felt like an outsider, watching a performance he wasn't allowed to participate in.
Join up, Pendaran said. We're going in. He repeated the latter, out loud, to the half-elf who had been standing watch in the forest. The woman saluted them, then resumed her vigil.
The other three Slayers each laid a hand on their leader's shoulder. When Pendaran glanced impatiently at him, Sorrell did the same. He noticed that the others were crouching slightly, and bent his own knees. Pendaran's lips moved in silent prayer, and he took a step forward. Sorrell felt a tearing sensation, as if his body had been yanked thin, and found himself standing inside a cave. The walls were jagged and rough; ice-split granite. Loose stone shifted underfoot. Sorrell started to straighten Watch your head, fool!
The warning was in Nairen's voice. And it was a heartbeat too late. Sorrell cracked his head on a bulge of rock that he hadn't noticed in the dimly lit cave. Wincing, he sank back into a crouch.
Koora squatted beside a hole near the back of the cavern, her hands extended over it, palms down. Adair and Nairen stood to either side of her, weapons ready. Pendaran scowled, then nodded as if he'd made a decision. Koora began to whisper: another spell. Not sure what was expected of him, Sorrell snuck a glance out through the crack in the rock at the trees of the Yuirwood. He tried to fix the image in his mind; it might very well be the last time he saw a forest.
Switch to Shevarash's sight, everyone, and activate your rings.
Sorrell heard whispered voices. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Slayers disappear from sight, one after the other. He was about to speak his ring's command word when something in the cave's entrance caught his eye. He at first dismissed it as a large bug, then realized it had a square shape. Curious, he took a step closer.
The moving thing was a tiny wooden chest, just the right size for a child's doll house, with eight legs that looked like they were made of stiff black string. As it crawled into the cave, Sorrell jerked his foot back from it.
What in the Abyss is that?
What? Pendaran asked.
Sorrell hadn't realized his exclamation had gone out to the group. He started to answer aloud, then caught himself. No more mistakes.
On the floor near my foot. A tiny chest-probably magical, he guessed. It looks kind of like a spider.
He heard Koora whisper. Sparkles of magical energy streaked from where she had been crouched and crackled around the miniature chest. Its legs fell still.
Sorrell felt a hand nudge him aside. Don't touch it. Pendaran's voice echoed in his head.
Sorrell stepped back. He heard a slight rustle, and guessed that Pendaran was squatting to examine the miniature chest. A faint metallic rasp announced a dagger being drawn from its sheath, then he heard a pop that sounded like a cork being drawn. The miniature chest shifted slightly as an invisible dagger tip poked it. Slowly, its lid lifted. Inside was a bright red powder that rose into the air in a puff as the lid was raised. A stream of liquid appeared, pouring onto the chest from an invisible container; the liquid quenched the cloud and filled the chest, making the remaining powder hiss and bubble.
Poison spores, Pendaran announced.
Sorrell heard a rustle as Pendaran stood.
There will be more, the leader continued. Following their makers, slowly creeping their way toward the chimney to tumble in and dump their poison on us. But by the grace of Shevarash, we have discovered them.
Sorrell was certain the lengthy speech had been for his benefit: a morale booster. Or perhaps for the enlightenment of those around him; he heard low-pitched, grudging acknowledgement from the two brothers.
Find the rest of them, Koora, Pendaran continued. Dispel them.
Sorrell heard a female voice whisper a prayer. Sparkles of magical energy shot out of the cave's entrance and coalesced around tiny objects on the ground beyond. He felt someone move close-Pendaran.
Close your eyes, the leader instructed.
Sorrell did, and felt a fingertip touch each eye. A whispered prayer followed. When Sorrell opened his eyes again, he could see the others again. Or rather, he could see the shifting auras that were their heat signatures. Their bodies were tones of red: a dull ruby where clothing masked body heat, bright orange-red on exposed faces and hands. White plumes bloomed at their noses each time they exhaled, quickly fading to yellow, then dusky orange, then purple-blue. Their extremities-ears and fingers-were blobs of darker, purplish red. Behind them, the stone of the cavern was dark purple, almost black, colder than the air that filled it. As they moved, fuzzy afterimages of lingering heat briefly streaked the air, then faded. Their boots left dull smudges of blue warmth on the colder ground.
The effect was stunning in its beauty-so riveting that for a moment Sorrell found himself starting to hum a tune under his breath and wondering how he would possibly convey it in verse.
Then Pendaran's gruff voice-thoughts ordered them into the chimney. Weapons at the ready, he instructed. There's a larger cavern below. If we missed anything, we'll have a fight on our hands. Fan out as soon as your feet hit the floor.
Sobered, Sorrell readied his club. He watched as Koora stepped onto the empty space above the chimney and sank slowly from sight. Pendaran followed. Then it was Sorrell's turn.
'Descenthallan,' he whispered aloud, and stepped onto empty air.
As he drifted down into the tight confines of the chimney, gripping his club against his chest, he wondered if the warriors in the ancient songs had felt as frightened as he did just then.
The time for songs, however, was long over.
They traveled through the Underdark for a long time-it must have been well past Night's Heart in the World Above-before Pendaran at last called a halt and set a watch. The trek had been exhausting and not what Sorrell had expected. He'd pictured the passageways through the Underdark as something like forest trails: a bit rough
