Erik de Bie - Depths of Madness

Then it was broken. Twilight rolled away to lie beside Taslin, both of them panting heavily in the murky torchlight. The two women looked at each other for many heartbeats, neither speaking. They merely breathed.

Twilight's heart raced so fast it scared her. No, she thought. No!

Then Taslin made a sound that made Twilight's heart fall back into shadow. It was a mere giggle at first, but soon it became an outright laugh.

She laughed alone.

How much the mirth stung startled her. Twilight felt like weeping, for she had been wrong about Taslin, but no-no tears. Instead, she bound that hurt deep inside.

While the priestess seemed capable of letting it pass, Erevan's servant was not so carefree. Perhaps the Maid was toying with her again, or even the Trickster himself. He had ruined everything else in her life, why not this?

"My thanks," the priestess said. "Perhaps there is more to wisdom than holding it all within the heart." Then she smiled innocently, and her eyes softened.

Twilight wanted to agree-she wanted to reassure Taslin, to tell her all would be well. She could see that Taslin needed only those words and her heart would be whole once more. It should have been so easy to give her those, to give her the comfort and love she needed. Even if Taslin did not want her as a lover, Twilight should have been able to take Taslin into her arms and let the sun elf weep on her shoulder, sharing the pain.

But it would've been a lie-an inward lie. She could not tell Taslin that grief had to be entrusted to others-she did not believe in trusting others. And the priestess, much as she possessed the warmth Twilight's cold heart craved, did trust, and that made her a fool. More than that, she was stupid enough to want Twilight for a friend.

Twilight believed in only three breeds of people in the world: lovers, enemies, and those who were both. That left no room for something so naive as friendship.

All trust and friendship had earned her, in her young life, had been more than her years' worth of heartbreak and loss.

Without a word, Twilight stood and walked away. She didn't look back.

She thought she heard Taslin say something behind her, but the words hurt less than those pained eyes, stabbing into her back.

"May Corellon guide you," the sun elf said. "And may you accept his hand."

Liet breathed a sigh of relief when Davoren returned. His demeanor showed no aggression or wrath, surprisingly, and his eyes darted nervously. Liet wondered, with no small shiver, what could make the invincible warlock afraid.

A short time later, Liet saw Twilight gliding from the tunnel in the direction that Taslin had gone several bells earlier. "Take this night for mourning if you wish, rest if you do not." Her tone made it clear she addressed them all.

Taslin, nude but for the cloak they had found for her, followed not far behind, and Liet had to look at her twice. He glanced at Twilight, wide-eyed, but she didn't return it.

Twilight continued. Her voice sounded tired. "Tomorrow, we head south-circling back to the rising tunnel Slip found."

They nodded solemnly. Gargan was the only one who made a sound.

"Goli lenamaka nae," he said. Then he separated from the others, hand on the hilt of the sword he had taken, and disappeared into the tunnels.

Slip blinked out of her doze and watched the receding goliath. "Hey!" she called. "Hey, wait!" She got up and ran after him into the darkness. Gargan paused and waited until Slip reached his side, and they disappeared together.

Twilight stared after them. Taslin crossed to her side and laid a hand on her elbow. "He goes to keep watch," she said, pointing to her earring.

Twilight seemed to accept the priestess's words, though she looked decidedly uncomfortable. She shrugged, took up her sword, and wandered toward a tunnel.

"Wait, 'Light," Liet said with a start, but the shadowdancer was already gone into darkness.

"Don't need you," Davoren murmured, huddled against the wall. Blood dripped from his mouth as though he had bit his lip. "Don't need any of you."

"Eh?" Liet said. "What did-?"

"Silence!" Davoren snapped, with more self-loathing than real anger. Still, it was enough to stun Liet. The warlock went back to muttering. "Don't need you-any of you."

The Dalesman bit his lip and suppressed a nervous shudder.

It occurred to him that Davoren was wrong. Each of them needed the others to survive, and not just for protection. They provided one another something else in the darkness: drive, or purpose, perhaps. Slip and Gargan had each other, it seemed, and Taslin had depended on Asson.

He looked at the scarred priestess, who meditated two paces distant. Would she die, now that she had no ally? No. Liet resolved that he would protect her. She had been kind to him, and he felt for her, with Asson gone.

Observing the shuddering warlock, Liet imagined that Davoren lived only because of Twilight's protection. They were not friends, certainly, but allies? The two of them had entered this dungeon together as companions at arms, but was there any true connection between them?

What of Twilight? Who was her protection? Certainly not Davoren, and all the fire seemed to have gone out of Taslin. Gargan was an enigma, and Slip had enough trouble watching out for herself. Perhaps…

A hand fell on his arm, and he jumped. It was Taslin. Her scarred face may have lost some of its beauty, but her eyes had lost none of their intensity. He felt calm, peaceful, in that gaze.

"Go to her," the priestess said. "She craves solitude, but she needs you. You and she are so alike-younger than this world demands."

"What?" Liet asked, dumbfounded.

"Do you not desire her?" Taslin asked. In the corner, Davoren was a thousand leagues away. "You stand close to her, and your hand reaches for hers. You laugh just a touch too loud, and stare a breath too long."

"I don't…"

"Have you never had a woman, young master Liet?"

"Well, ah, um-" She put a finger to his lips. She reminded him of Twilight.

"My heart will mend," she said. "Hers…" She gazed toward the corridor.

Liet hesitated. He wanted with all his being to go after Twilight. What he would say, he had no idea. But he couldn't leave Taslin and Davoren alone, he told himself. Couldn't face the monsters that could be out in the dark…

"Courage," Taslin whispered. "You are older than the boy you act-be the man you are." She kissed his cheek, softly.

He would do it.

Liet got to his feet. "I shall return," he said. "I'll bring her with me."

"Go," Taslin said peaceably. Her hand snaked out to caress bare stone beside her, though she didn't seem to notice. "I shall be well."

He looked from Taslin to Davoren, a bit nervous to leave them. But he pushed fear away. Liet wasn't convinced, but he didn't care-not more than he did about Twilight.

The passage yawned forbiddingly, but he was determined. He stole after Twilight, quiet without his boots, seeking where she might have gone. He heard the rapier scabbard clicking against the stone ahead, and followed the sounds.

He saw a flicker of movement. "Slip?" he asked, hesitantly. The figure froze, staring, then dashed around a corner. Hand on his sword, Liet hurried after.

He turned the corner and gasped, seeing a light glimmer on the far wall. There was movement. He dropped his hand to his sword and stepped forward, cautiously, straining to see. He couldn't make it out clearly, but it looked like a black hand-he couldn't count the fingers-extending out of the wall itself. As he approached, the hand snaked around and extended its palm toward him. He saw an eye in its midst.

His own eyes widening, Liet hurled himself into the shadows and froze. He had no power, no magic of his own-at least, none that he could use. What could he do against… whatever this thing was?