Extinction - Lisa Smedman [87]
The humans were either bold-or stupid. They came through the woods with heavy, snow-crunching footsteps, not bothering to lower their voices, which, when Halisstra could finally hear them clearly, sounded strained. Occasionally they grunted, as if carrying a heavy load. As they passed by the base of the trophy tree and came into sight through the underbrush, Halisstra saw two of them, both human males with axes in sheaths on their backs, carrying a body on a cloak they held stretched between them.
The body of a female drow.
And not just any drow, but one who wore the moon-and-sword emblem of Eilistraee on a chain around her neck, and a cluster of miniature swords that hung from a ring on her belt like keys.
"Who are you?" Halisstra called out, dropping her invisibility spell. "What's happened to this priestess?"
She held her songsword at the ready-not because the men looked threatening but because, if the priestess was still alive, healing magic might be needed, and quickly. Stepping closer, she touched the woman's throat, but saw that it was too late for any spells she might have offered. The priestess's skin was cold, and the rhythm of life had stilled. Her closed eyes would see no more.
Both of the humans were thin and muscular, with pale blond hair and darker skin than most humans, suggesting there had been a drow somewhere among their ancestors. The older of the two men inclined his head to Halisstra. It was as much of a bow as he could manage while still holding on to the cloak that sagged with the priestess's weight. When Halisstra nodded back in acknowledgement, the two men gently eased their burden to the snowy ground.
"We two are from Velarsburg," the older man said. "I am the lumberman Rollim, and this is my son Baeford. We were cutting timber near the Howling Hills when we heard a woman calling for help. We followed the voice-some ways through the woods, from which I figure it must have been a magical sending-and found this Dark Lady outside a cave. She looked near death-she was breathing shallow, and fast. She couldn't speak, but she could still sign. She said she'd been attacked in the Realms Below and needed to get back to the temple."
Halisstra contemplated the dead priestess. She was a stranger, but Halisstra could guess her mission by the tiny swords that hung from the ring on her belt. She was one of the priestesses who traveled as missionaries into the Underdark, carrying the faith of Eilistraee to the drow who dwelled below. The tiny swords would have been handed out to the faithful, to serve as "keys" that would ensure them safe passage to the temple.
"Did she tell you what attacked her?" Halisstra asked.
Rollim frowned and replied, "Not 'what,' Lady, but who. When she was telling her story, she used the sign for 'she.' The sign that means 'drow female.' "
Halisstra winced.
"Did you see any sign of this other drow?" she asked.
"None," Rollim said. "There was only the Dark Lady's footprints-and we didn't dare go into the cave. The other must still be below."
"Stabbed in the back," Halisstra muttered, staring down at the priestess. "How typical."
Behind the two men-both had their backs to the spot where Ryld was hidden-she saw dark hands briefly flash: Or else abandoned to fight alone.
Even though Ryld's face was no more than a shadow under the hood of his piwafwi, Halisstra could see he was scowling.
"Not stabbed," Baeford interjected. "There wasn't a mark on her." He glanced apprehensively down at the body of the priestess. "It must have been magic that killed her."
Rollim ran a heavily callused hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat and dotted with sawdust. "A normal injury, we might have been able to do something about-we could have splinted a broken bone or stanched the bleeding of an axe