Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [49]
The blow slapped Lyraene's sword out of her hand. Keph drew Quick back, then jabbed out with delicate precision. Lightning crackled and Lyraene staggered against the rail, gasping as she clutched at the neat, smoldering puncture in her left hip.
Lyraene's cronies were shouting again, but their shouts soon turned to cries of alarm. Out of the corner of his eye, Keph could see Talisk and Starne menacing them with slashes of their own swords. Bracing himself against the swaying of the bridge, Keph raised Quick once more.
"Remember that cantrip!" he screamed. "It's going to be the last spell you ever cast!"
He thrust Quick down into Lyraene's right arm-and held it there, the rapier piercing the flesh of her forearm and grating along the bone. Lyraene's shrieks almost drowned out the snap of lightning as it lashed through her. Her muscles twisted as they burned, warping her hand and wrist into a dreadful claw. Keph wrenched Quick free. Lyraene fell to the floor of the platform, twitching and screeching. Keph planted a foot on her shoulder to hold her still and took aim at her left arm.
"Halt!"
The command rolled over and through him like thunder, locking his arm and stopping his blow. Keph gasped and looked up.
A man in fine clothing was racing along the walkway toward the other end of the swaying bridge. In his hand he held a long, delicate sword that burned with cold white light. The magical illumination shimmered on his silvery-white hair and on the silver medallion he wore around his neck. Baret leaped out to confront him, but the man barely paused in his pace. His free hand thrust out, fingers spread wide.
"In Selune's name, I bid you go from this place!"
To Keph's eyes, the man seemed to shimmer with power. He could only guess what Baret saw. The cultist shrieked louder than Lyraene, turned on his heels, and fled in terror.
A priest of Selune! Keph cursed.
The silver-haired man's command was already fading and he could move again. He stumbled away from Lyraene, twitching Quick to point at the priest as the man paused before the end of the swaying bridge. Keph risked a fast glance over his shoulder. Lyraene's cronies had regained some of their bravado while Starne and Talisk were retreating, glancing uneasily between cronies and priest.
Keph whirled and fled toward them, vaulting from bridge to walkway with a hoarse shout. He crashed into two of Lyraene's friends, sending them sprawling, then scrambled to his feet. As the other two spun around in surprise, Starne and Talisk turned and fled. Keph sprinted after them, lashing Quick at the cronies to drive them back.
There were stairs down to the depths of the Stiltways nearby. They raced down them and down the next set, too. Only when they were two levels and a full street away from the vengeful priest did they stop.
"Dark," panted Talisk. "What happened? Where did he come from?"
"It doesn't matter," Keph replied. He held up Quick. Lyraene's blood was still smoking on the metal. He kissed the blade. "Hail Shar, Mistress of the Night," he murmured, his voice thick with rapture. "Thank you."
–– --‹§)-
The old woman seated alone at a table for two pressed her hands to her cheeks as Mifano crossed the terrace of the Sky's Mantle.
"My dear," she gasped, "I was angry that you were so late, but I see that you must have reason!" She reached out and touched his doublet. "Is that blood?"
"Not mine, madam."
He sat down wearily and reached across the table for the decanter of wine. It was almost half empty and he gave the old woman a disapproving look.
"You are very late, Mifano," she said.
He shook his head and poured wine into a goblet.
"I was late when I left Moonshadow Hall," he explained, "and a good thing, too-I took a shortcut and ended up interrupting a duel." He gulped wine and shook his head again. "No," he corrected himself, "not a duel. Something closer to torture. I was able to offer the victim healing and she may recover the use of her arm."
"My poor, silver-haired dear!"