Extinction

Quenthel scrambled up behind Pharaun and Danifae?who backed away, one wary eye on the whip in Quenthel's belt. Quenthel was crouching to negotiate the low ceiling, her hands and feet spread wide to keep her balance on the slippery rocks. That and the hungry gleam in her eye made her look like a dark spider. Jeggred was one pace behind her, as usual, moving nimbly across the uneven ledge, his second, smaller set of arms held out for balance.

Quenthel peered into the vast cavern beyond the waterfall and asked, "Have we reached Lake Thoroot?"

Her voice was barely audible over the roar of falling water.

"It's just below," Valas answered with a nod. "About fifty paces straight down."

"Do you see any sign of the city?or the ship?"

Valas shook his head and replied, "Both are probably far beneath the surface."

But which part of the surface? he wondered.

For all Valas knew, Zanhoriloch was on the far side of the lake, though he wasn't about to admit that to Quenthel. They had entered through the only approach to the lake the scout was familiar with. The last thing he wanted was to exhibit any weakness or uncertainty, even after they found the ship and left the Underdark?and his expertise?behind.

One hand clutching the wet rock beside him, Valas leaned as far out as he dared, studying the wall below. The tunnel they'd been following was a wide one, with a natural ledge of rock on one side of the river. It had provided a welcome shortcut to the lake, an easy trek after their long, weary journey. But from there, things got tricky. The river burst out of the tunnel like a horizontal fountain, its spray soaking the rock for a great distance on either side. Through the mist, Valas could see faintly glowing streaks of green against the stone: patches of water-soaked, slippery fungi.

Valas felt someone looming behind him, and fetid breath told him who it was. Jeggred stared out at the lake, his monstrous body crowding Valas and nearly forcing him over the edge.

Elbowing Jeggred back, Valas shouted back to the others over the draegloth's head, "I'd like to scout ahead before we go any farther. Pharaun, I'll need magic to climb down, and that spell of yours that will allow me to breathe underwater."

"You're going alone?" the mage asked. "Shouldn't you take someone with you?" He glanced past Quenthel as if anticipating someone else to materialize behind her, then he sighed. "What about Jeggred?"

"No!" Quenthel barked, the vipers in her whip lashing. "Jeggred stays with me."

Sensing her anger, Jeggred scrambled over to crouch at her side.

"He can take Danifae," Quenthel said.

Before Valas could shake his head in protest, Pharaun butted in.

"Danifae will only slow him down?and I don't want to waste my time and talents preparing the same spells twice."

Valas glanced between Quenthel and Pharaun. Valas had to tread carefully, so as not to tip the scales?a balancing act that was growing wearisome. It would be a relief to get away on his own for a while.

"I'll go alone," he told them.

The Bregan D'aerthe scout took off his piwafwi, then set his haversack, bow, and quiver beside it. He also shed his chain mail?its weight would only drag him to the bottom of the lake?and his boots. He carefully removed from his enchanted vest any of his many talismans that might be harmed by the water, then put the vest back on. Next he lashed his daggers into their sheaths. The thread he used would prevent them from falling out when he was underwater but was thin enough to be broken easily in an emergency.

When he was done, he looked up at Pharaun and said, "Ready."

The mage nodded and pulled a small sheet of mushroom-skin paper from his pocket. Unfolding it, he handed its contents to Valas: a small blob of a black, tarry substance.

"Eat it," the wizard instructed.

Without asking what it was, Valas popped it into his mouth. It had a bitter taste, and it stuck to his teeth. With an effort, Valas forced his jaws apart, unsticking his molars.

Pharaun laughed and said, "You don't have to chew it. Just swallow."

Valas swallowed the substance, then stood waiting as Pharaun chanted the words to his spell. The mage ended by fluttering his fingers against Valas's chest, like a mother imitating a spider in a child's nursery rhyme. When Pharaun was done, the scout's fingers and toes felt gummy. He lifted one hand from the rock, and sticky strands of web followed it.

Pharaun reached into a pocket of his piwafwi a second time and pulled out a short length of some kind of dried surface plant.

"Ready?" he asked.

Valas nodded.

The mage grinned and said, "Then rake a deep breath."

Valas did, and Pharaun blow through the stick at him, completing his second spell.

Valas's chest felt heavy, and water trickled from his nostrils.

"Go!" Pharaun shouted.