Azure bonds - Kate Novak [7]
"You really think that piece of paper's going to be strong enough?" she asked doubtfully. Maybe I should put this off until morning, she thought. The Shrine of Oghma or the Temple of Deneir might have more competent help.
"This scroll was written by the hand of the Arch-cleric Mzentul himself, it should remove these horrors without delay." He stroked his chin thoughtfully and added, "It being such an old and irreplaceable scroll, perhaps you wouldn't mind, should you come into further funds.."
Alias gave an impatient nod, and Winefiddle undid the scroll's leather binding. With one hand on her arm and the other holding the scroll, he began to read.
"Dominus, Deliverus," he intoned. A cold shudder ran down Alias's spine, a feeling quickly overwhelmed by a burning sensation on her forearm. The pain was familiar, but she could not remember why. Is this how the magics felt that put the damned thing here?
The fire on her arm intensified, and she clamped her jaw shut to avoid crying out. She couldn't have been in more pain if molten metal had been poured over her sword arm.
"Ketris, Ogos, Diam-" Winefiddle continued, breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. Alias wondered if he could feel the heat of her arm beneath his hand.
Light beams arced from Alias's arm like water from a fountain, but instead of spilling to the floor, they wrapped around her until she was surrounded by blue light.
Suddenly, she wrenched her arm away from the cleric's grasp and reached down to her boot for her throwing dagger. As if she was in some horrible nightmare her arm moved of its own accord, like a viper she could not control.
The priest had ignored the swordswoman's arm jerking from his grasp. It wasn't really necessary that he hold onto it, and he could not afford to lose his concentration and break off his incantation. "Mistra, Hodah, Mzentil, Coy!" he finished triumphantly.
Winefiddle looked up at his client. She was still bathed in a blue light from the symbols, and her face was a mask of rage. A low, feral snarl issued from her lips. He caught the flash of silver as Alias thrust the knife toward him. With an unexpected dexterity, he shifted sideways.
The weapon sliced through his robes and bit into his flesh, but it was stopped by his lowest rib.
Alias looked down in horror at her hand-it moved with its own volition. Blood from the dagger bubbled and burned as it dripped over the glowing tattoo.
Suddenly, the scroll Winefiddle had been reading burst into flame, its magic used. The curate threw the burning page in Alias's face.
The swordswoman swatted the fiery parchment away, and the priest circled around her. Just as he reached the door, Alias felt an electric pulse run down her right arm. She tried to grab the wrist with her left hand, but she was too late. The arm hurled the dagger at the priest. The weapon whirred past his ear and buried itself in the doorjamb. Yanking the door open so hard that it banged against the wall behind it, the priest fled from the study.
Alias raced after him, no longer in control of any part of her body. She tried to pull the silvered steel weapon from the wood as she passed by, but the blade had buried itself too deep; she abandoned it so as not to lose sight of her prey.
Alias found Winefiddle climbing the steps to the silver altar. She leaped after him and grabbed at the back of the chain around his neck, the chain that held his holy symbol-the silver disk of Tymora. She yanked on it hard, trying to throttle him with it.
Winefiddle lost his balance and tumbled backward down the steps into his assailant, knocking her over as well. The priest's fall was broken by Alias's body, but the swordswoman was not so lucky. The crack her head made on the marble stone echoed through the temple, and the priest's great bulk on top of her forced all the air from her