The Howling Delve
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"Give me back the fire-woman," he muttered.
"Sorry," Morgan said, "Fire can't go where we're headed." He inverted the torch he carried into the river.
Instantly, Talal went blind. The oppressive darkness of the Delve closed in around him. He felt Laerin's hand on his shoulder, prodding him toward the rushing water. Reluctantly, Talal waded back into the frigid river and let the current snare him.
Treading water, he felt the downward sweep to the wishbone just before his shoulders brushed rock.
For a moment, Talal panicked. He braced his hands on either side of the passage, resisting the water's pull with all his strength. He didn't want to drown. He'd end up a blue corpse in the dark, and no one in Faer?n would care.
"You can't fight it forever," said Morgan's voice in his ear. "But you can go on your terms."
Talal forced a steadying breath into his lungs. Calmer, he closed his eyes and remembered how it was to feel his way in the dark. He'd done it before. He could do it underwater.
Cautiously, he let his hands slide down the stones, following the curve of the wishbone.
Pretend it's a lass's legs, Dirty Bones, and stop your whining.
The water closed over his head.
Froglike, Talal swam with the current. He kept one hand above his head to brush the stone ceiling, searching for air. The river propelled him forward at a quick pace. He sensed Morgan and Laerin beside him now and then, though he could see nothing in the dark. The water dragged at his shirt. Talal stripped it off and left it for some deep-dweller to find.
Ten feet farther Talal's shoulder banged against something rough and unyielding. Talal hoped it wasn't alive, or if it were, that it couldn't swallow him. He kicked sideways and realized the river bent, angling off to his left. He had no choice but to follow the path.
His lungs began to burn. Unconsciously, he let a tiny gasp of air escape. The respite was brief, however, and the burning sensation that followed was excruciating.
Kicking feebly now, Talal allowed the river to carry him. His hand dragged limply across the unbroken rock ceiling. He felt no gap, no magical pocket of air to save him.
The muscles in his abdomen convulsed. His body demanded air, and in its absence was willing to drag in lungfuls of the killing water. Talal clutched his midsection, trying to hold in his last gasp.
His hand slid off the rock. Talal spasmed, sucking in a freezing cold breath. His lungs suddenly felt heavy. His muscles contorted in agony. Then the pain went away, and the cold, and Dirty Bones went to sleep.
* * * * *
He awoke vomiting water.
Talal heard Morgan cursing and felt the big man's arm supporting his chest as he emptied the river from his body.
When he could breathe again, Talal looked around. They were in another tunnel, but he could hear the river somewhere behind him. Morgan must have carried his body a short distance before reviving him. Talal had thought himself dead. He shivered violently at the memory of his near-drowning.
Laerin offered a hand to pull him to his feet. "We can't linger here. The creature will follow the river and fence us in again if we don't keep moving."
They moved off down yet another tunnel, but Talal trailed behind. His legs felt rubbery, and his lungs still ached. The only thing that kept him moving was the presence of the demon's frightening aura, steadily building behind them. Every time they came to an intersection, Laerin changed their direction and increased his speed. Soon they were running again. Behind them, the sound of rain echoed in the tunnels, drawing closer.
"Keep turning!" Laerin shouted as they ran. "Out-maneuvering is the only way. If it catches us, there won't be any room to fight. We'll be running through a forest of razors."
Laerin skidded down a short, steep incline. At the end of the slide was a vast chamber that opened wide and dipped into a crater. Stalagmites, arranged like a maze, rose from the floor like trees, forming dense clusters throughout the room. Two paths led from one side of the chamber to the other.
"Help me," said Morgan, grabbing Talal by the waist.
"Let go!" Talal kicked air in a futile attempt to win loose, but Morgan's grip was solid. Laerin came up on his other side, snagging his foot. The half-elf went to one knee and hauled upward, tossing Talal bodily into the air. He landed hard on his stomach on one of the higher platforms. The breath whooshed out of his lungs.
"Stay there!" Morgan hollered when he rolled to the edge. The echo of another roar—so damn close!—and the sound of claws raking stone reached Talal's ears. He fought the urge to curl into a ball.
"Not enough," said Laerin. "The demon will smell him before it gets into the room."
"Suggestions welcome," Morgan growled. "Stand or run?"
Laerin regarded the two pathways through the chamber. Each led to a separate exit. "Split up," he said finally. "We'll each take a path. The boy can run along the top. With luck, it'll only be able to chase one of us. Talal can follow the other into the tunnel and hopefully find Kall."
"Awful lot of luck and hope in that plan," said Morgan, his face white.
Laerin smiled grimly. "We work with what we have," he said. He looked up. "Do you understand what we're going to do, Talal?"
Talal swallowed. "I got it," he whispered.
Laerin met Morgan's gaze steadily. "One more bet," he challenged softly. "Let it be a race."
Morgan grunted, but his grip faltered as he reached in his pouch and dropped two gold coins on the ground. "A race, then."