Lisa Smedman - Ascendancy of the Last

She leaped over the fallen golem, into the mound. She spoke Qilue's truename under her breath. Perhaps, even in stasis, Qilue might hear it. "Ilindyl! I'm coming, sister!"

Too dark; she couldn't see. With a thought, she bathed her body in a sheen of silver light. As she passed through the second chamber, a demonic voice roared in triumph, up ahead. "I'm your Lady Penitent no more!"

Laeral plunged into the tunnel leading to the third corridor. Just ahead, she saw Leliana, crumpled on the floor. The priestess's magical sword lay on the ground beside her body. From the chamber beyond came the sharp clank of metal on stone: another blade, being dropped to the floor?

Laeral readied the components of a spell as she ran. "Stay strong, sister. I'm nearly there!"

A demonic figure leaped to its feet as Laeral burst into the room: Halisstra. Snarling, squinting against the glare of Laeral's silver fire, Halisstra hurled a broken sword hilt at Laeral, then leaped at her and spat out a deadly word. One clawed hand raked Laeral's hip, tearing it open. Laeral felt the power of the magic word bore through her. A less powerful wizard would have instantly withered and died, but she was sustained by Mystra's magic. The wound in her hip instantly healed. She slapped Halisstra with a hand, and shouted a transmutation. Halisstra ceased moving, her face frozen in an anguished snarl.

Laeral hurried past her. She fell to her knees beside two corpses, each missing its head. One was Cavatina, the other, Qilue, her body no longer demonic. The amulet Laeral had given Qilue lay in a puddle of blood, next to her head. Laeral touched her fallen sister's corpse. Already, the body was growing cool. "Oh, sister," she mourned. "What have I done?"

From behind her came a groan, and the scrape of metal on stone. Laeral whirled-but it was only Leliana, picking up her sword and staggering to her feet. The priestess walked with uncertain steps into the chamber. She shied around the time-frozen Halisstra, but never once looked in her direction. Her eyes, wide and horror-filled, were locked on Qilue's headless corpse.

"Eilistraee!" she keened.

"Pray for her," Laeral urged. "Bring her back."

"I can't!"

Anger made Laeral's silver fire flare brighter. "Pull yourself together, priestess, and pray!"

Leliana fumbled with the holy symbol hanging around her neck. She wrenched its chain over her head, and hurled the miniature sword down at Laeral's feet. "I can't!" she screamed.

The holy symbol was deeply tarnished, black and brittle looking. And Leliana herself had changed. Her skin was brown; her hair, black.

Laeral realized the priestess was crying. From the distance-somewhere outside the mound-she heard the sobs and wails of the other faithful.

Laeral rose. "One of the others will have a holy symbol. You can-"

"Don't you understand?" Leliana shouted. "Eilistraee's gone! She was inside Qilue when she was killed with the Crescent Blade. I saw Eilistraee die!"

A shiver of horror coursed through Laeral. She understood-suddenly, and with frightening clarity-the omen she'd witnessed outside. A missing moon, a vanished goddess. That was terrible enough. But there was something that stuck even closer to home. She half-turned to her fallen sister. "You… can't restore her to life."

"No."

Laeral clutched at straws. "Someone else then. A cleric of some other faith."

"No," Leliana croaked. "No one can revive her. The Crescent Blade killed her. Halisstra hacked out her soul-and Eilistraee's with it."

Laeral choked back a sob. Her beloved sister, gone. Laeral had always known that Qilue might die one day, but had been comforted by the knowledge that Qilue would dance at her goddess's side. But now that goddess was gone, and Qilue's soul destroyed.

All this while, Leliana had been staring at the frozen Halisstra. Now she spat out the name of the fallen priestess like a curse. Slowly, as if it weighed as much as a boulder, she lifted her singing sword. It was utterly silent, its song forever stilled. She touched the point to Halisstra's chest. "Your magic holds her?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Yes."

"Dispel it."

Eyes locked. Sorrow met grief. Laeral nodded, gestured, and spoke a word.

Halisstra blinked.

Leliana thrust her sword into Halisstra's chest. Blood, stinking of the Abyss, flowed hot over her hand. A faint tremble coursed through the blade: Halisstra's heart, beating one last time. The fallen priestess's spider jaws twitched, and her mouth opened.

"Eilistraee," she gasped. "Forgive…"

"She can't forgive you," Laeral said. "She's dead."

Halisstra's eyes clouded over, and she died.

T'lar drifted toward the spot where the mages stood arguing with one another, her body a breath of wind. Now was her moment. The wizards were agitated by their inexplicable transformation, and were intent upon their argument. By the sound of it, only the one seated on the driftdisc still had his darkvision. Careful to keep out of his line of sight, T'lar reformed her body behind one of the stacks of boxes. She'd waited here a long time for her target to show, and had been forced to delay further when he'd returned with his apprentices and three of Sshamath's masters. But T'lar was as patient as a spider in its web, and her target was at long last presenting an opportunity for her to strike.

Softly, she hummed the tune the Lady Penitent had taught her-the one that would allow her dagger to strike true. Then she readied herself. She hadn't bothered to merely poison her blade, this time. Instead, she'd had the weapon cursed. The next person it killed would remain dead, despite any resurrections a cleric might attempt.

T'lar adjusted her grip on the blade and focused on her breathing. A lesser assassin would have been forced to rise from her crouch to throw, but T'lar was one of the Velkyn Velve, and had dro'zress within her. She called upon it now, and felt it charge her body. In one smooth motion she stepped sideways through space and hurled her dagger. It whispered through the air, swift as an arrow, and buried itself in her target's neck, right next to his hairclip.

Her target collapsed. The other mages reacted with alarm. Even as they spun to search out the threat, T'lar sidestepped-only to find her target alive and well and standing directly in front of her-and holding her dagger in his hand.

"Looking for this?" he asked.

"How-?" T'lar grunted in pain. She looked down. The dagger was in her heart. She felt herself fall to the side, and heard the wizard's voice from the distance, through a thick gray fog.

"Contingency spell," he said. "In the hairclip. A combination of blink and illusion that…"

His voice faded. So did all sensation. Gray mist swirled around her. She stood on a table-flat plain that bore no landmarks, save for a walled city in the distance. She was dead, she realized. She had failed the Lady Penitent. Her torment would be eternal.

Some time later-a heartbeat? a year?-a form materialized next to her. Though she had no body, no life, T'lar sensed herself falling to her knees. "Lady Penitent," she said, contrition choking her mind-voice. "I failed you. Q'arlynd Melarn lives."

Wild laughter burst from the Lady Penitent's lips. "We're all dead!" she howled. She whirled to shake a fist at the mist. "Do you hear that, Cavatina? Your goddess is dead. I tried to redeem myself, but too late!" The Lady Penitent sank to her knees in the swirling mist, sobbing like a broken slave.

A shiver of fear lodged in T'lar's soul. She rose and backed slowly away, but the weeping figure lashed out with a hand, catching her wrist. "Your goddess is dead!" she screamed. "The Lady Penitent is dead!"

T'lar tore free of the Lady Penitent's grip. What madness was this? A strand of silk drifted down from the sky to brush T'lar's shoulder. She looked up, and saw a spider-headed female staring down at her. Lolth! Behind the goddess stood a balor demon, his bat wings wreathed in flame. Lolth's true champion. T'lar understood that, now.