Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [113]
"Selune!"
Velsinore gasped and tried to duck, but she wasn't fast enough. Feena's arm caught her around the chest. The two priestesses slammed to the floor, locked in struggle. Moonlight winked out. Feena managed to get an arm around Velsinore's neck in a chokehold, but Velsinore slid her arms free. One hand scrabbled for her medallion. Feena growled and snatched at it.
Too late. Velsinore's fingers closed.
"May Selune's touch turn against you!" she gasped with her last breath.
Her arm snapped up, slapping the hard metal of the medallion against Feena's neck just at her shoulder.
Feena screamed as pain split her flesh. Under her robe, she could feel wounds opening, gushing blood. The magic tore into her, sinking deep into her flesh. Something ripped inside her chest. Her grip on Velsinore loosened. The traitorous priestess started to slip free.
Feena clenched her teeth and tightened her hold, clawing with her other hand for a new grasp on Velsinore's head.
"By my faith and for Mother Dhauna," she gasped, "Bright Lady of the Night give strength to my arms!"
The prayer hadn't even left her mouth before Selune's power descended on her. For just a moment, it seemed that she was whole and uninjured. Magic thundered in her muscles. With a wild cry, she jerked them tight.
Velsinore's head wrenched around and her neck snapped with a loud crack. Her body shuddered once, then went limp.
Heresy died.
Feena clutched a dead weight in her arms. She pushed Velsinore away. The effort sent new pain ripping through her. Feena choked and toppled onto her back. Velsinore's final twisted curse had done something awful inside her. A cough wracked her and she could feel warm blood spatter across her lips. The borrowed strength of the goddess was already slipping away. Like a dream in the distance, she could hear the frightened shouts of Moonshadow Hall-and a sudden fierce cry: the charge of Shar's cult.
Moonshadow Hall needed her, if not as High Moonmistress, then at least as a warrior. She tried to move her arm, to reach for Selune's medallion. She tried to force the words of a prayer-Bright Lady of the Night, lay your touch upon me!-out of her throat.
Her arm didn't move. Her prayer drowned in blood.
ran through streets that seemed darker than he had ever known them. Was it just his imagination or was it some foul magic of Variance's? Did Shar's gaze rest upon Yhaunn? He could almost believe it did. He could almost believe he had brought disaster down on the entire city.
Sweat streamed from his forehead, catching in his eyebrows and dripping into his eyes. It poured down his back. His shirt was plastered to his skin. His breath came in huge, thick gasps. It felt as though his chest was ready to rip itself apart; cramps cut into his sides. Anyone who glimpsed him must have thought he'd gone mad.
He didn't dare to stop or even to slow down. Variance had studied him, and his family, too well. The attack of the shadow mastiffs on the Stiltways would be too much for the city guard to handle, especially combined with an attack on Moonshadow Hall. Faced with a threat to the city, Strasus Thingoleir wouldn't even hesitate before throwing himself and his entire family into the fight.
It didn't seem possible for his knotted guts to twist any tighter, but Keph could feel them clench with the hollow, watery feeling of new fear. The wizards of Fourstaves House would save many lives in the Stiltways. He knew that. They would drive the black dogs back-but not without risk to themselves. A vision of monstrous Rax flitted through Keph's mind. If Strasus, Dagnalla, Malia, Krin, or Roderio was hurt or killed because of what he'd caused____________________
But he couldn't leave Jarull in Variance's grasp either. His family had a chance at least. They were powerful. They had magic. Jarull was already a prisoner, mad and tortured solely because Variance had needed something to hold over Keph's head.
He choked and tried to run a little faster. You idiot, he cursed himself, you stupid, stupid idiot!
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