The troll’s eyelids fluttered, but he finally focused on her face and blinked slowly. Then he nodded and reached up to touch his throat. “I’m good. Shit, man. That was new.”
“Yeah.” The halfling glanced at the doorway, which was now six feet in front of them, and pulled him with her. “Come on.”
He stumbled forward and croaked out a chuckle. “That was the black fire, huh?”
“That was the black fire. Guess I’ll start with that one next time.”
“Did you know you weren’t gonna burn me up too?”
“I had a hunch.”
Persh’al choked out another laugh, which cut off when another small, hand-sized tentacle snaked around the corner of the doorway. He blasted it with a ball of green flames and grabbed Cheyenne’s hand, jerking her quickly behind him as he darted through the doorway.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The return of things like gravity and visible ground beneath them made them stumble when they burst through the portal. Persh’al let go of Cheyenne’s hand when he tripped on a loose stone, but he caught himself and straightened. “Fuck that place, man. Gets worse every time.”
“Wasn’t as bad as fighting those things on the other side, though.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say. You weren’t one being choked by a whatever-the-hell-that-was.”
“True.” Cheyenne smiled innocently when he shot her an exasperated glance.
With a wry chuckle, he stepped toward her and extended a hand. “But you were the one who fried that thing. Thanks.”
“Hey, if I don’t have a guide over here, I’m screwed.” She shook his hand, and when he released her grip, the troll stood beside her and looked out over the expanse of land where they’d crossed over.
“Oh, man.” He scratched his head and frowned. “Looks like this place is screwed too.”
“Ambar’ogúl has deserts too, huh?”
“Not like this. At least, not naturally.”
The ground stretched flat and barren in front of them, the earth split and cracked as far as they could see. Two trees emerged from the dead landscape to their left, dry and gnarled. One of them had cracked and fallen halfway against the other, which looked like it was about to crumble anyway. All of it was a charred, dusty black.
Cheyenne blew strands of her white hair out of her face and scanned the open ground. “You sure we made it out?”
“Very funny.” Persh’al turned and pointed to the blackened, partially split boulder behind him. “That’s not moving. If we were coming back the same way when we cross over again, that rock would still be here.”
“Right. No smoke, either.”
“Well done on your first crossing, kid. Welcome to Ambar’ogúl.” He smacked her arm with the back of his hand, and Cheyenne flinched away from him with a hiss. “Whoa. That’s a nasty one.”
She glanced down at her arm where the smoke-tentacle had grabbed her and grimaced “Shit.”
The thing had burned a hole in the sleeve of her hoodie and through some layers of skin. Her purple-gray flesh glistened in the bright sunlight streaming down on them, the edges of the burn charred black like the dead land around them. Kneeling, she shrugged off her backpack, careful not to knock the other strap against the fresh wound. Then she unzipped the bag and pulled out the jar of darktongue salve. When she unscrewed the lid, the scent of rotting strawberries overwhelmed them both.
Persh’al stared at the brown jar and scratched his chin. “Smells like darktongue.”
“It is.”
“You, uh, you ever use that stuff before?”
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, yeah.”
He chuckled. “Want some help?”
“Thanks, but that might get you a drow hand around your throat instead of a tentacle.”
The troll raised his hands and took a step back. “Fair enough.”
Cheyenne dug her fingers into the jar and twirled the thick, stretchy white goo around her hand. “You mind ripping that hole open a little more, though?”
“Sure.” He leaned forward and gently peeled the singed fabric off her arm. Cheyenne gritted her teeth as he yanked once and widened the shredded hole. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s just a warmup, right?” Her smile was tight and forced as she stared at the open wound, then she blew out a quick breath and went for it. Her arm burned worse than the tentacle when she smeared the salve across it. A growl escaped her, and she choked it back.
“It’s cool, kid.” Persh’al glanced around. “Nobody out here to hear you—”
“Fuck!” She hunched over her knees and clenched her eyes shut as the salve did its work patching up her arm. Tears squeezed out of her eyes, and she sucked in slow breath after slow breath through her nose. “This is taking forever.”
“Nah. You’ll be all right.” She didn’t fight him when he reached down to take the jar from her and screwed on the lid. “Just to keep this in one piece.”
“Yep.” The pain slowly died, and she took another deep breath before looking at the bluish-green sky. “The sun over here kinda looks the same.”
“Two moons, though.” He handed her the jar, which she shoved back into her pack before running a hand across her newly healed flesh. “We got a long way to go before we can stop again. You ready?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Cheyenne pushed to her feet and shrugged her backpack on again. Then she turned to take another look at the portal disguised as a cracked boulder. The scarred black earth stretched around them for miles, but a tall mountain range rose in the distance. “You sure this wasn’t a desert?”
“Used to be a lake.” Persh’al nodded, and she turned to follow him across the dry, shriveled ground. “Not much of anything left here now.”
“This is the rot.”
“What?”
Cheyenne shook her head. “Heard it in a prophecy. Something about cutting out the rot.”
“Huh. Makes sense. I mean, either the lake caught fire, dried up instantly, and the flames ate away the bottom, or the life was taken right out of this place by something else.”
“Something else like the
