“That doesn’t even—” Cheyenne started to say when Corian put a hand on her shoulder and slowly shook his head.
“Not here. Later.”
She swallowed thickly and stormed away from him, staring at the ground because she couldn’t bear the sight of so many dead husks stripped of the power they didn’t deserve to lose. This place was sacred, not a snare. L’zar’s still keeping his damn secrets. That’ll end soon, even if I have to make it end.
The dead, still silence was overwhelming as they moved through the Nimlothar forest. When they emerged on the other side, the ground dipped into a bowl-shaped clearing made entirely of stone. Flames flickered across the clearing like light dancing across water. Small plants, sparse bushes, and short trees with narrow trunks dotted the curving stone floor, but everything burned with continuous flames of green, red, and purple. Ash blew across the clearing amid the constant crackle and the occasional burst of sparks from the endlessly burning plants. Even the wind was silent.
Cheyenne studied the strange phenomena with a pit of hesitation in her stomach. “I don’t get it. Stone doesn’t burn.”
L’zar shot her a quick sideways glance like he’d forgotten she was there and scowled. “It does here. Everything burns.” He jumped down into the bowl-shaped clearing and stared at the massive cave on the opposite side. The stone mouth of the cave burned too, mostly with yellow and orange flames of natural fire, but with random bursts of white fire and purple sparks.
Cheyenne studied the cave but couldn’t see anything past the raging fire that shouldn’t have been able to burn without fuel. It’s magic. That’s all the fuel anything needs on this world.
L’zar headed toward the closest burning plant, a withered lily, casting a quick spell before reaching down and plucking the whole thing from the stone. Scowling, he moved to the next plant and the next, harvesting burning stems and leaves and flowers. Foltr grunted and handed his staff to Maleshi before heading into the center of the clearing to help L’zar with his task.
“What are they doing?”
Corian leaned toward Cheyenne and nervously licked his lips. “It’s an old ritual, kid, to call out the Sorren Gán for a little chat, more or less. It guarantees a certain protection for us. Walking into that cave without it would end our journey right here.”
She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “Seems a little strange that we’d have to protect ourselves if we’re coming to this thing to ask for help.”
The nightstalker grimaced. “This thing has a fondness for drow.”
L’zar spun toward them, his eyes wild and his arms full of burning plants. “Don’t downplay what we’re facing, Corian. It likes the way we taste, plain and simple.”
Cheyenne blinked and stared at the flaming mouth of the cave. “The Sorren Gán eats drow?”
Corian dipped his head. “When it can.”
Ember swallowed. “Holy shit.”
“We’re here for a bargain,” L’zar spat as he broke a flaming green branch off one of the trees with a sharp snap. “To come to an agreement so it’ll stomp its fiery ass all the way to the capitol. We may be a delicacy for the Sorren Gán, but its main food is magic.”
“Magic.” Cheyenne folded her arms. “It eats drow and magic.”
“I don’t have time to listen to my damn echo, Cheyenne.” L’zar trudged across the clearing, dropping his fiery armful in the very center before moving on to another plant.
“What’s spilling out of Hangivol right now should be a decent feast for the Sorren Gán. One would think that in and of itself would be enough to entice it out, but these things don’t leave their lairs if they can help it.”
“So beyond dangling an exploding magical carrot in front of it, how do we get it to leave?”
“We make the trip worth its time. Placate it however we can, and in return, it should agree to make the journey and take care of the most immediate problem at the capital.”
With a snort, Cheyenne shook her head and watched her father and Foltr gathering flaming tribute to the Sorren Gán. “’Should.’ That means none of you is sure this will work.”
“We don’t have any other options, kid. We’re asking the Sorren Gán for help as a last resort. No way to hide that from the creature either, because we only have this one card to play. It’s always a gamble with them.”
L’zar’s bitter laughter came out as a snarl. “Gamble. We’re just full of fell-damn euphemisms today, aren’t we?”
Corian leaned closer to Cheyenne and lowered his voice. “This one is best known for a willingness to put its appetite aside and at least listen to offers. Countless drow have tried to make deals with this particular Sorren Gán if they get that far. Very few of them make it out alive to see the deal fulfilled, but L’zar did. Once.”
“Shut the fuck up,” L’zar hissed. “I need to concentrate, and you running your mouth about the past isn’t helping.”
Ignoring his touchy mood, Cheyenne widened her eyes at her father as he bustled around the stone clearing. “You’ve done this before?”
“No. The last time, I didn’t have a bunch of idiots buzzing in my ears while I was trying to focus.”
She turned toward the nightstalker. “Corian, what are we getting ourselves into here? Seriously. I need to know before I go barging in there like a clueless moron.”
He blinked at her above a small, cautious smile. “Sounds like you’re finally coming to understand the importance of being prepared.”
“I blame you for planting that seed.” Cheyenne raised her eyebrows. “Tell me.”
Corian took a deep breath, then turned his back on L’zar and the stone clearing as if that would keep the drow thief from overhearing the conversation. He leaned toward Cheyenne’s ear and whispered, “I’ve only seen your father truly scared on two occasions. The first time was before he
