Sixty Seven
Teloki is back. Somehow, sometime. As soundless as the shadows had taken him they now release him. Tired out he droppes down next to Linu and takes off his helmet to wipe off the sweat from his face. As his right hand disobeys a restrained curse escapes his lips.
"Darn, seems I'm getting too old for this!"
"What for?"
Linu loosens the halfling's rune-decorated bracer. Thank Goddess the healer can't find an injury, there are only swollen muscles and bow-taught tendons strained to their limits. Her skillful fingers ease hardenings and tensions and the mild scent of forest- herbs fills the air in the dusky corridor. For a while Teloki in silence enjoys the coming and going of pain that turns his useless arm into feeling flesh again.
"For Morags little games. Those two guardians weren't the last brick in the wall she had raised between herself and us. Morag is surrounded by eight ... 'priests', who ceaselessly babble prayers. It wouldn't surprise me if she - just like all dastards - nurtures her powers by other ones' strength."
He spits out snorty, then keeps up.
"The only way to to get to her and her minions is an opening protected by a wall of dancing blades. There should be a mechanism to turn them off ... maybe ... hidden within this ugly statue near the old lizardqueen. But to destroy it you have to get close to Morag. Too close probably ..."
"Perhaps a bow or a crossbow ...", Linu suggests but instantly hushes as she glances at Telokis quiver.
It's empty! How many arrows have been misplayed? Fifty? A hundred? Teloki follows her eyes.
"Sixty seven", he says and smiles weary."But not in vain, hopefully."
