Extinction - Lisa Smedman [88]
Halisstra nodded. "You did well to bring her here," she told them. "I'm sure the priestesses will reward-"
"They already have," Rollim said. He raised his right hand, palm up, toward the sky in a reverential gesture, then let it drop to his side. "If it wasn't for the Dark Ladies, Baeford wouldn't be alive today. He had the pox soon after his birth and nearly died, but Eilistraee healed him." He glanced at the dead priestess, and his expression grew grim. "I only wish we'd been able to repay that kindness."
Baeford-whose face did have pock marks-shuffled his feet nervously.
"Lady," Baeford asked, "shall we carry her to the sacred circle?"
He looked as though the last thing he wanted to do was pick up the body again.
"No," she answered. "I'll take her. You may go."
"You'll carry her alone?" Rollim asked, eyebrow raised.
He bowed hurriedly when he saw Halisstra's frown. She still didn't appreciate a male questioning her authority.
"As you wish," Rollim quickly said. Then, to his son, "Come, Baeford. We've done all we can."
As they left, Ryld slid silently out of the branches.
Should I follow them? he signed.
Halisstra shook her head.
"No. There's something amiss here, but though the younger one could sense it, he doesn't know what it is. Whatever it is, they weren't the cause of it."
She knelt beside the body and studied it, shifting it slightly to observe the woman's back. As Baeford had said, there were no obvious signs of injury. The priestess's skin was unbroken, and her tunic and boots showed only normal travel wear. Just as all of Eilistraee's priestesses did-especially when venturing into the Underdark-she wore a chain mail shirt. Its links were undamaged, and her sword was still in its scabbard.
On an impulse, Halisstra grasped the hilt and tugged. The sword slid out of its scabbard easily, its blade keen and bright-had it been used, it might have been sticky with blood. As Halisstra reached once again over the dead woman to resheath the weapon, her face came close to that of the priestess. Detecting a faint but acrid odor, she bent closer and sniffed. The smell was a distinctive blend of the sulfuric fires of the Abyss combined with rotten spiderweb.
Halisstra swore softly, "Eilistraee protect us."
"What is it?" Ryld asked, tense.
"She was killed by a yochlol," Halisstra said. "I can smell its stink on her skin and hair."
Silver flashed as Ryld drew his greatsword. He assumed a ready position, eyes darting around the forest.
"Do you think it followed her?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I doubt it."
As she spoke, Halisstra pried open the dead woman's mouth. The priestess's jaw opened easily. She had not been dead long. As Halisstra had suspected, the smell was stronger when the woman's mouth was open. The yochlol must have assumed gaseous form and flowed into the priestess's lungs, choking her and rendering her unable to retaliate with either sword or spell. Which meant that the yochlol had gotten close to her-close enough to take her completely by surprise. It had done so either by using a spell to dominate her, or by the simple subterfuge of assuming one of its most innocent-looking forms, that of a female drow.
A "drow" who had, Halisstra guessed, pretended to be a petitioner seeking to join in Eilistraee's worship. The yochlol must have toyed with the priestess, secretly gloating at what was to come while accompanying her to the cavern that led out onto the World Above. Then it struck.
"This was no random attack," Halisstra concluded. "The yochlol chose its victim deliberately."
"Do you think the demon was summoned?" Ryld asked, his brow creased in a worried frown. "If it was…"
The warrior didn't finish his question, but he didn't have to. Halisstra knew full well what was on his mind. The yochlol were demonic creatures that served the Queen of the Demonweb Pits. The handmaidens of Lolth could only appear on the prime material plane if summoned by her priestesses. It was possible, however, that one had already