Lisa Smedman - Ascendancy of the Last

The demon whose taint Qilue was about to draw into herself.

And this was the spot where she was going to do it.

One detail of the vision had been especially unsettling. Laeral knew only a little about summoning-the very idea of deliberately unleashing a demon upon the world sickened her-but she could tell that something had gone amiss with the casting she'd just seen in her vision. The demon had displayed a great deal of control: first knocking over the candle-which the wizard had noticed-and then drawing his foot back in such a way as to scuff the lines painted on the floor.

Which the wizard hadn't noticed.

Was there something Qilue had also missed? The plan she'd so cryptically outlined to Laeral seemed sound, on the surface. Qilue would draw in the demon's taint, and then Laeral would cleanse it from Qilue with Mystra's silver fire. To ensure the demon didn't gain control of her sister's body, Laeral would use a trick they'd once played on Elminster-a jest Qilue had made a cryptic reference to in her brief communication. Laeral would temporarily step outside of time, leaving Qilue frozen in the moment, ensuring that Laeral would get a chance to draw down the silver fire before the demon could try anything.

All good, in theory. But had this truly been her sister's idea-or the demon's? Qilue had admitted to being corrupted by Wendonai, but had assured Laeral that she was-at least, at the time of her most recent communication-fully in control of herself. But had she been? What if the demon was scheming to turn Mystra's boon against them? What if the silver fire consumed not Wendonai, but Qilue herself? Her body would remain-it could not be destroyed by mundane or magical means-but whose mind would it house?

If Laeral were a priestess, she might have asked for guidance from a greater power. But she was a mage, with only her own instincts to go by. And her instincts screamed caution.

A thread of moonlight through the bare branches above announced Qilue's imminent arrival. Laeral braced herself. An instant later, Qilue appeared. She landed in a crouch atop the block of weathered stone that had been the seat of the throne, the Crescent Blade held high above her head. Her robe was soaking wet, her ankle-length hair plastered against her black skin.

The sisters' eyes met: Qilue's, clear and determined; Laeral's, brimming with concern.

"Sister," Laeral whispered. "I…"

"May Eilistraee forgive me," Qilue said in a flat voice. Then, before Laeral could stop her, Qilue yanked the holy symbol from her neck and threw it down. The Crescent Blade swept up, and down in a deadly arc. Steel struck silver with a dull clank, slicing the holy symbol in two.

"It begins!" Qilue cried.

She chanted-words that twisted her lips and forced a spray of red through her teeth as she gritted them out. Her features changed. Her back hunched, her face erupted in boils, and her eyes clouded to a dull white. The fingers gripping the Crescent Blade elongated and grew thick, horny nails. A foul smell rose from her skin.

All this, in the blink of an eye.

Laeral reeled as she realized what her sister was doing. Qilue had cast aside Eilistraee's redemption, and was warping her very soul in order to invite the demon in. Laeral could feel the evil crackle past as it rushed at Qilue. It chilled, then burned. It whipped both sisters' hair into twisted knots, fouled Laeral's nightgown, and forced its soot into her lungs, making her cough. It shrilled past her ears with a mocking, high-pitched tittering.

No! Laeral thought. All the drow on Toril weren't worth this!

"Temfuto!" she screamed, halting time for all but her.

Silence. Sudden stillness. Her sister's transformation, halted. The very air, frozen. A falling leaf, checked in mid-descent. Laeral stepped past it-quickly, quickly, before her spell ended-and touched her hands to her sister's head. Qilue's scalp felt as hot as the Abyss beneath her ice white hair.

Silver fire wreathed Laeral's hands in a sparkling radiance. She readied herself to send it raging into Qilue the instant the time-halting spell ended, in order to burn the taint from her sister's body. But what then? Qilue had drawn some of the demon's taint inside her, but not all. Though Laeral's silver fire would burn much of it away, a portion would remain inside the Crescent Blade, which Qilue still held in her hands. If the sword had been lying on the ground, Laeral could have easily cast a disjunction to strip it of its magic, once Qilue herself had been cleansed. But with it locked tight in Qilue's grasp, the demon could slide back up the trickle of blood that connected steel and flesh. Qilue was an open vessel, bereft now of the blessings that had formerly protected her. The demon would slide into her as quickly as a sword into an oiled sheath. Faster, perhaps, than Laeral could react.

Laeral trembled with indecision. She had to decide. Now!

Then it came to her.

A snap of her fingers transmuted the soot that grimed her sister into a dusting of crushed diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. With her hands still on Qilue's hair, Laeral watched the leaf, waiting…

The leaf quivered. Time resumed its flow. Laeral cast her spell.

The leaf landed, and the rush of taint died away in an angry howl. Qilue remained motionless, the gem dust in her hair sparkling in the moonlight. She, alone, remained frozen in time, held fast by Laeral's transmutation.

Laeral hardly recognized the twisted thing Qilue had become.

"Oh, sister," she breathed. "What have you done?"

She didn't need to ask why Qilue had done it. She knew the answer. Qilue loved the drow with all her heart. She'd sought their salvation with every thought, with every word, with every deed. And this had nearly been her downfall.

Nearly.

Laeral, however, had just bought her sister a little time. Even if Laeral herself didn't know how to help Qilue, there was someone who did. Someone whose knowledge of demons-whose expertise in hunting them down, banishing them, permanently destroying both the demon and its lingering taint-far surpassed Laeral's own. The Darksong Knight, Cavatina. Laeral would take Qilue someplace safe, then fetch Cavatina.

Laeral touched her sister and spoke a conjuration, but something prevented her from teleporting away. It was as if Qilue were a lodestone, pulling in the opposite direction from the one Laeral wanted to go. Laeral wrapped her arms around her sister and tried to physically move her, but Qilue's feet refused to lift from the block of stone.

Suddenly, she remembered her vision and the ancient wizard's binding spell. The binding must have taken hold of Qilue, as soon as the demon's taint shifted inside her. Laeral knew a powerful abjuration that could break the binding, but casting it would also end the spell that was holding Qilue in stasis.

She stood, desperately thinking. A binding, she knew, could be undone not just by a spell, but also by repeating a phrase, a gesture, or by meeting other, very specific conditions set by the original spellcaster. She went over the vision in her mind, but it offered no clues. In time-and with a great deal of study-she might find that key.

She stared at her frozen sister. Time was certainly something Qilue had.

Unless someone came along in the meantime and cast a disjunction spell.

Laeral squared her shoulders. If Qilue couldn't be brought to the Darksong Knight, she decided, then Cavatina would just have to be brought here instead. That meant Laeral would have to leave her sister. In the meantime, she had to guarantee Qilue's safety. She hung her necklace around Qilue's neck to ensure that enemies couldn't scry her. Then she cloaked her sister in a glamor that would further conceal her.

"I'll be gone just a short time, sister," Laeral said, stroking the frozen hair, even though she knew Qilue couldn't hear or feel her. "I'll come back with Cavatina. She'll know what to do."