[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
offered her a few minutes later. That these struggling souls would share what little they had spoke of the
depths of their compassion and camaraderie. Had the dwarves wanted to, they could have very well slain
Falstad and her after having dealt with the trolls. No one outside of their group would have ever been the
wiser.
Gimmel took charge of seeing to it that everyone shared equally in the provisions. Rom, after taking his
portion, slowly wandered off, saying that he wished to inspect some of the side tunnels they had passed
earlier for any sign of troll activity.
Falstad ate with gusto, seemingly enthused by the taste of the dried meat and fruit. Vereesa ate with less
enthusiasm, dwarven fare not famous for its succulent taste in either the elven or human realms. She
understood that they cured the meat in order to better preserve it, and even marveled that someone had
found or grown fruit in this dismal land, but her more sensitive taste buds even now complained to her.
However, the food was filling, and the ranger knew that she would need the energy.
After finishing her fare, Vereesa rose and looked around. Falstad and the other dwarves had settled in to
relax, but the impatient elf needed to walk. She grimaced, thinking again how her instructor would have
called her so human right now. Most elves early on outgrew their tendencies toward impatience, but
some retained that trait for the rest of their lives. Those generally ended up either living beyond the
homeland or taking on tasks that let them travel extensively in the name of their people. Perhaps, if she
lived through this, she might choose one of those paths, maybe even visit Dalaran.
Fortunately for Vereesa, the tunnels here had been carved out somewhat higher than many of those
through which she had earlier passed. For the most part, the elf managed to traverse the rocky corridors
with minimal bending, even occasionally standing unhindered.
A muffled voice some distance ahead suddenly made her halt. The ranger had journeyed farther than she
had intended, enough so that she might have very well dropped herself right into troll territory. With
tremendous care so as not to make a sound, Vereesa drew her blade, then inched forward.
The voice did not sound like that of a troll. In fact, the nearer she moved, the more it seemed to her that
she knew the speaker but how?
couldn't be helped, great one! Didn't think ye wanted them to know about ye! A pause. Aye, an elf
ranger fair of face and form, that's her. Another pause. The other? A wild one from the Aerie. Said his
mount escaped when the trolls took 'em.
Try as she might, Vereesa could not hear the other half of the conversation, but she at least knew who
presently spoke. A hill dwarf, and one very much familiar to her.
Rom. So his comment about searching the tunnels had not entirely been truth. But who did he speak with
and why did the elf not hear that one? Had the dwarf gone mad? Did he talk with himself ?
Rom did not speak now save to acknowledge that he understood what his silent companion said.
Risking discovery, Vereesa edged toward the corridor from which the dwarf 's voice came. She leaned
around just enough in order to observe him with one eye.
The dwarf sat on a rock, staring down into his cupped palms, from which a faint, vermilion glow
radiated. Vereesa squinted, trying to see what he held.
With some difficulty, she made out a small medallion with what appeared to be a jewel in the center.
Vereesa did not have to be a wizard like Rhonin to recognize an object of power, an enchanted talisman
created by magic. The great elven lords utilized similar devices in order to communicate with either their
counterparts or their servants.
What wizard, though, now spoke with Rom? Dwarves were not known for their fondness for magic nor,
for that matter, for their fondness for the ones who wielded it.
If Rom had links to a wizard, one whom the dwarf apparently even served, why did he and his band still
wander the tunnels, hoping for the day when they might be free to walk under the heavens? Surely this
great spellcaster could have done something for them.
What? Rom suddenly blurted. Where?
With startling swiftness, he looked up, his gaze focusing directly on her.
Vereesa backed out of sight, but she knew her reaction had been too late. The dwarven leader had
spotted her, even despite the darkness.
Come out where I can see ye! he called. When she hesitated, Rom added, I know 'tis ye, Lady
Vereesa. . . .
Seeing no more reason for subterfuge, the ranger stepped into the open. She made no attempt to
sheathe her sword, not at all certain that Rom might not be a traitor to his own people, much less her.
She found him eyeing her in disappointment. Here I thought I'd gone far away enough to avoid them
sharp, elven ears! Why did ye have to come here?
My intent was innocent, Rom. I only needed to walk. Your intent, however, leaves many questions. . .
. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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offered her a few minutes later. That these struggling souls would share what little they had spoke of the
depths of their compassion and camaraderie. Had the dwarves wanted to, they could have very well slain
Falstad and her after having dealt with the trolls. No one outside of their group would have ever been the
wiser.
Gimmel took charge of seeing to it that everyone shared equally in the provisions. Rom, after taking his
portion, slowly wandered off, saying that he wished to inspect some of the side tunnels they had passed
earlier for any sign of troll activity.
Falstad ate with gusto, seemingly enthused by the taste of the dried meat and fruit. Vereesa ate with less
enthusiasm, dwarven fare not famous for its succulent taste in either the elven or human realms. She
understood that they cured the meat in order to better preserve it, and even marveled that someone had
found or grown fruit in this dismal land, but her more sensitive taste buds even now complained to her.
However, the food was filling, and the ranger knew that she would need the energy.
After finishing her fare, Vereesa rose and looked around. Falstad and the other dwarves had settled in to
relax, but the impatient elf needed to walk. She grimaced, thinking again how her instructor would have
called her so human right now. Most elves early on outgrew their tendencies toward impatience, but
some retained that trait for the rest of their lives. Those generally ended up either living beyond the
homeland or taking on tasks that let them travel extensively in the name of their people. Perhaps, if she
lived through this, she might choose one of those paths, maybe even visit Dalaran.
Fortunately for Vereesa, the tunnels here had been carved out somewhat higher than many of those
through which she had earlier passed. For the most part, the elf managed to traverse the rocky corridors
with minimal bending, even occasionally standing unhindered.
A muffled voice some distance ahead suddenly made her halt. The ranger had journeyed farther than she
had intended, enough so that she might have very well dropped herself right into troll territory. With
tremendous care so as not to make a sound, Vereesa drew her blade, then inched forward.
The voice did not sound like that of a troll. In fact, the nearer she moved, the more it seemed to her that
she knew the speaker but how?
couldn't be helped, great one! Didn't think ye wanted them to know about ye! A pause. Aye, an elf
ranger fair of face and form, that's her. Another pause. The other? A wild one from the Aerie. Said his
mount escaped when the trolls took 'em.
Try as she might, Vereesa could not hear the other half of the conversation, but she at least knew who
presently spoke. A hill dwarf, and one very much familiar to her.
Rom. So his comment about searching the tunnels had not entirely been truth. But who did he speak with
and why did the elf not hear that one? Had the dwarf gone mad? Did he talk with himself ?
Rom did not speak now save to acknowledge that he understood what his silent companion said.
Risking discovery, Vereesa edged toward the corridor from which the dwarf 's voice came. She leaned
around just enough in order to observe him with one eye.
The dwarf sat on a rock, staring down into his cupped palms, from which a faint, vermilion glow
radiated. Vereesa squinted, trying to see what he held.
With some difficulty, she made out a small medallion with what appeared to be a jewel in the center.
Vereesa did not have to be a wizard like Rhonin to recognize an object of power, an enchanted talisman
created by magic. The great elven lords utilized similar devices in order to communicate with either their
counterparts or their servants.
What wizard, though, now spoke with Rom? Dwarves were not known for their fondness for magic nor,
for that matter, for their fondness for the ones who wielded it.
If Rom had links to a wizard, one whom the dwarf apparently even served, why did he and his band still
wander the tunnels, hoping for the day when they might be free to walk under the heavens? Surely this
great spellcaster could have done something for them.
What? Rom suddenly blurted. Where?
With startling swiftness, he looked up, his gaze focusing directly on her.
Vereesa backed out of sight, but she knew her reaction had been too late. The dwarven leader had
spotted her, even despite the darkness.
Come out where I can see ye! he called. When she hesitated, Rom added, I know 'tis ye, Lady
Vereesa. . . .
Seeing no more reason for subterfuge, the ranger stepped into the open. She made no attempt to
sheathe her sword, not at all certain that Rom might not be a traitor to his own people, much less her.
She found him eyeing her in disappointment. Here I thought I'd gone far away enough to avoid them
sharp, elven ears! Why did ye have to come here?
My intent was innocent, Rom. I only needed to walk. Your intent, however, leaves many questions. . .
. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]