It made a noise deep in its throat, the arrow made a wet ripping sound as it entered, and the drake’s smooth motion ended in a jerk. All that was enough for anyone to sense some disturbance behind her and turn—and it was that simple reflex that saved Danifae’s life. Though the drake forgot its intended target, it landed hard in a skidding roll and would have bowled her over if she hadn’t jumped clear—and she barely managed that. The portal drake whirled in the direction from which Valas’s arrow had come. Saliva dripped from its open mouth, curling around jagged teeth and collecting on the cave floor in steaming pools. Valas saw the intelligence in the thing’s eyes, the great age—centuries spent stalking the alluring magical portals of the Underdark—and the cold, hard anger. The drake searched the darkness for him, but Valas knew it wouldn’t see him. Valas didn’t want to be seen; it was that simple. Behind the creature, Danifae scrambled to her feet, drawing her morningstar at the same time.
