Ascendancy of the Last - Lisa Smedman [93]
The demon's lip curled, yet he did as he was commanded. As he dropped to his knees, one cloven foot kicked over a candle. Its flame guttered and went out. The wizard-coronal tensed, and his hand tightened around a spider-shaped amulet that hung from his neck. The demon drew its foot back inside the eight-sided star, and the wizard relaxed again.
Your name, demon, he demanded.
The demon stared him in the eye and bared his jagged teeth in a feral smile.
Wendonai.
These are dark times, the wizard told the demon. Our enemies press us on every side. You will help us turn the tide, Wendonai. The brutal conquests of Aryvandaar must be halted, or we Ilythiiri shall all be slaughtered.
It will be my pleasure, Geirildin, the demon answered.
The vision ended. The jungle and ruins returned.
Laeral shivered as she realized what her vision had just revealed. This was where it had happened, nearly thirteen millennia ago-the event that had precipitated the descent of the dark elves of Ilythiir into madness and shadow. Qiluй had spoken to Laeral of this before. She'd related enough of the early history of these dark elf ancestors of the drow for Laeral to understand what she'd just seen. According to everything her sister had read, the Ilythiiri had been a greedy people, bent on conquest and determined to achieve victory at any cost. Their noble Houses had embraced the corruption of the Abyss, in order to win the wars they'd waged with neighboring elven kingdoms. Yet Qiluй questioned whether they had truly been as ruthless as the histories painted them-or whether they had instead been desperate victims. The vision seemed to hint at the latter. Whatever the coronal's motivation might have been, the summoning Laeral had just witnessed had been his people's downfall. Wendonai was the balor demon who had corrupted Qiluй's ancestors-the demon who now lurked inside the reforged Crescent Blade.
The demon whose taint Qiluй 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 Qiluй had also missed? The plan she'd so cryptically outlined to Laeral seemed sound, on the surface. Qiluй would draw in the demon's taint, and then Laeral would cleanse it from Qiluй 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 Qiluй had made a cryptic reference to in her brief communication. Laeral would temporarily step outside of time, leaving Qiluй 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? Qiluй 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 Qiluй 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 Qiluй's imminent arrival. Laeral braced herself. An instant later, Qiluй appeared. She landed in a crouch atop the block of weathered stone that had been the seat of the throne, the Crescent Blade