Extinction

He needed her magic?and quickly?but she could not aid him without first healing herself. Time was of the essence, so she used bae'qeshel magic, a darksong that would close her wounds. The worst of her pain was relieved?though it returned, in lesser form, a moment later as the acid that had soaked into her clothing began to eat at her skin again. As rapidly as she could, she stripped off her chain mail and pulled off her soggy tunic and boots. Her tunic came off easily, peeling away in wet, rotted chunks. As she stripped down, she noted that the spell had knitted her ruptured skin back together but had left a pattern of overlapping burn marks. Startled by the sight of them, she began to raise a hand to her face?then immediately dropped it as she heard Ryld softly moan. It was no time for vanity.

Scrambling across the floor to him, she laid a hand over the site of his wound and felt a shudder pass through the flesh under the blood-soaked tunic. Closing her eyes, she chanted her prayer.

Eilistraee, aid him. Slow the poison that rushes through his veins. Grant him just a little time, yet, to live.

She lifted her free hand, imagining herself outside, under a clear sky, reaching up toward the moon. When she felt the familiar tingle of magic she swept her hand down, placing her palm upon the hand that still covered Ryld's wound. She felt a rush of magical energy flow through her and into Ryld?energy as cool and as bright as the moon. As the last of it drained out of her she shivered, suddenly cold and exhausted.

Halisstra knelt, anxiously watching Ryld's slow, labored breathing, wondering if her spell had worked. Uluyara had been ight?Halisstra had been mad to think she could find the Crescent Blade, when the combined efforts of Eilistraee's faithful had failed. Halisstra wondered if the ghost that had led her to the worm hole had truly been Mathira Melarn. It seemed more likely that it was just some malevolent spirit seeking to lead others to experience the same gruesome death that it had. Stupidly, like a rothe being led to slaughter, she had followed the ghost to the edge of the worm hole, then entered, despite her realization that it would be a purple worm she'd be confronting and not a dragon after all. She had proceeded anyway, blind faith causing her to believe that the Crescent Blade would be inside the worm's lair.

If it was, she hadn't seen it. In the moments before Ryld had startled her, breaking her spell, Halisstra had gotten a good look at the cavern floor. She'd even gotten the worm to shift this way and that, enabling her to search beneath it.

She'd seen nothing.

Sighing, she stared down at Ryld. In pursuing her quest, she'd come close to forfeiting her own life. That, she had no quarrel with. As a drow, and a former servant of Lolth, she was used to such sacrifices being demanded of her and all around her. The goddess consumed her followers like flies, then cast their empty husks away. But Halisstra had expected more of Eilistraee. A little mercy?if not for her, then for innocents like Ryld. She hadn't expected her quest to cost him his life as well.

Then she saw a slight change. Ryld's face, which had been swiftly draining of color a few moment before, seemed slightly darker, less gray. She could see his breathing begin to steady, though it still sounded wet and tight. The spell had worked?there was still hope.

"Eilistraee, forgive me," she quickly whispered. "Forgive me for doubting your mercy."

Squatting, she hooked one hand under Ryld's shoulders, the other under his hips, intending to carry him, if need be, all the way up to the surface, then back across the Cold Field to the nearest town.

Eilistraee willing, she would be able to locate one of the priestesses?someone who knew a healing spell that would flush the poison completely from his body?before the poison-delaying spell she'd cast ran out.

As she started to lift Ryld his eyes flickered open, startling her. He looked confused for a moment, but slowly recognition dawned.

"Halisstra," he croaked. "Is it really you?"

At first Halisstra thought he was still groggy from the poison. Then she realized, from the way he was staring at her, that he truly did not recognize her. She touched her face and found it cratered with overlapping scars. Her hand trembling, she reached up still farther, and found that most of her hair had fallen out. Only a few ragged strands remained. The bae'qeshel magic had closed the wounds caused by her burns?but it had left her with terrible scars.

She told herself not to worry about it?the priestesses would certainly have a spell that would smooth her skin and restore her hair. Getting Ryld back was the thing to concentrate on.

"It is me, Ryld," she told him. "Do you think you can walk? Otherwise I'll have to carry you back across the Cold Field."

"I can walk. . if you help me up," he said. Then he looked around. "Splitter?where is it?"