Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 3 - The Amber Enchantress by Troy Denning Page B
Authors: Troy Denning
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squinted, amazed at his eyesight. She could barely tell the color of his hair, yet he could see her clearly enough to detail her wounds. She had heard that the vision of full-blooded elves was keen, but she had not guessed it was this good.
When the sorceress made no move to rise or to answer, the elf continued, “I'll save you if you bring me across!”
Sadira frowned, wondering how the elf knew she could. When she looked around, however, the answer was clear. From the swath of land she had blackened, it was obvious that, in her efforts to escape the halflings, she had used at least one powerful spell to destroy the bridge. It would not be unreasonable for the elves to assume that a sorceress of such power could levitate one of their number across the canyon.
After a few moments of thought, Sadira decided to accept the offer. It was certainly possible that the elf would betray his word and try to take advantage of her, but that hardly mattered at the moment. Whatever his intentions, he was right about one thing: without help, she would soon die. The sorceress rose and started to leave the blackened area.
“What's the matter with you?” screamed the angry elf. “Don't you speak the trade language?”
Sadira did not even to try to shout an explanation, for she knew the words would not escape her swollen throat. Instead, she waved her arm in the direction she was going, pointing to an area where plenty of cacti still rose from between the stones.
The elf and his tribe finally understood. As she stumbled forward, they mirrored her progress, moving along the dunes rimming the opposite side of the canyon. It took Sadira several minutes to travel the short distance to undefiled ground, but eventually she reached a place where the plant life showed no sign of the destruction she had caused.
Sadira put her satchel on the ground, then withdrew a small parchment and rolled it up. Holding the tube to her lips, she cast one of her simplest spells.
“Tie a line to an arrow and shoot it across the canyon,” she whispered, her parched throat aching from even that small exertion.
The elf looked from Sadira to where the voice had sounded at his side, then spoke to his companions. One of them quickly returned with an arrow attached to a coil of twine and fired it across the chasm. The shaft clattered to the ground a few yards away. Sadira quickly retrieved it before the string, which was settling into the canyon, dragged it away. The sorceress looped the line of braided plant fibers around a rock.
That done, she lifted her parchment tube to her lips again.
“Hold your end of the line,” she whispered. “And bring water.”
The elf nodded, then sent two companions back to the kank herd. A short time later, they returned with a ceramic jug and gave it to the speaker. Sadira found it peculiar that they would carry something as precious as water in a vessel that could be so easily broken, but she quickly put her misgivings aside as she pondered the size of the jar. It was so big that the elf had to use both hands to carry it. Apparently, he intended to be sure she had plenty to drink.
“I'm ready!” he yelled.
Sadira prepared for her next spell, making a small loop out of a piece of leather string. This she tossed in the elf's direction as she spoke her mystic phrase. The loop vanished, and the elf rose off the ground. Sadira went to the line and pulled, bringing him across the chasm as though he weighed nothing at all.
The elf arrived, an overbearing grin on his face. He was a huge man, standing fully two heads taller than Sadira. The light burnoose covering his frame did not conceal his barreled chest, and the thick forearms extending from the sleeves of the robe were heavily muscled. His silver hair hung over his back in an unruly tail that left his sharp-tipped ears completely exposed. Even by the standards of his race, the man's features were singularly gaunt and keen, with high spiked brows, a nose as thin as a
When the sorceress made no move to rise or to answer, the elf continued, “I'll save you if you bring me across!”
Sadira frowned, wondering how the elf knew she could. When she looked around, however, the answer was clear. From the swath of land she had blackened, it was obvious that, in her efforts to escape the halflings, she had used at least one powerful spell to destroy the bridge. It would not be unreasonable for the elves to assume that a sorceress of such power could levitate one of their number across the canyon.
After a few moments of thought, Sadira decided to accept the offer. It was certainly possible that the elf would betray his word and try to take advantage of her, but that hardly mattered at the moment. Whatever his intentions, he was right about one thing: without help, she would soon die. The sorceress rose and started to leave the blackened area.
“What's the matter with you?” screamed the angry elf. “Don't you speak the trade language?”
Sadira did not even to try to shout an explanation, for she knew the words would not escape her swollen throat. Instead, she waved her arm in the direction she was going, pointing to an area where plenty of cacti still rose from between the stones.
The elf and his tribe finally understood. As she stumbled forward, they mirrored her progress, moving along the dunes rimming the opposite side of the canyon. It took Sadira several minutes to travel the short distance to undefiled ground, but eventually she reached a place where the plant life showed no sign of the destruction she had caused.
Sadira put her satchel on the ground, then withdrew a small parchment and rolled it up. Holding the tube to her lips, she cast one of her simplest spells.
“Tie a line to an arrow and shoot it across the canyon,” she whispered, her parched throat aching from even that small exertion.
The elf looked from Sadira to where the voice had sounded at his side, then spoke to his companions. One of them quickly returned with an arrow attached to a coil of twine and fired it across the chasm. The shaft clattered to the ground a few yards away. Sadira quickly retrieved it before the string, which was settling into the canyon, dragged it away. The sorceress looped the line of braided plant fibers around a rock.
That done, she lifted her parchment tube to her lips again.
“Hold your end of the line,” she whispered. “And bring water.”
The elf nodded, then sent two companions back to the kank herd. A short time later, they returned with a ceramic jug and gave it to the speaker. Sadira found it peculiar that they would carry something as precious as water in a vessel that could be so easily broken, but she quickly put her misgivings aside as she pondered the size of the jar. It was so big that the elf had to use both hands to carry it. Apparently, he intended to be sure she had plenty to drink.
“I'm ready!” he yelled.
Sadira prepared for her next spell, making a small loop out of a piece of leather string. This she tossed in the elf's direction as she spoke her mystic phrase. The loop vanished, and the elf rose off the ground. Sadira went to the line and pulled, bringing him across the chasm as though he weighed nothing at all.
The elf arrived, an overbearing grin on his face. He was a huge man, standing fully two heads taller than Sadira. The light burnoose covering his frame did not conceal his barreled chest, and the thick forearms extending from the sleeves of the robe were heavily muscled. His silver hair hung over his back in an unruly tail that left his sharp-tipped ears completely exposed. Even by the standards of his race, the man's features were singularly gaunt and keen, with high spiked brows, a nose as thin as a
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