Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [77]
Doors banged open behind him. He spun around.
A woman in a swordfighter's costume strode through the ruins of Fourstaves House. Lyraene. No, Keph realized with a start, not Lyraene.
Adrey. Grown up.
"I want to be like you, Uncle Keph," she said. "I want to fight like you."
Shar's disk hung around her neck.
It was over in an instant.
The glare of Dhauna's magical moonlight vanished with Feena's attack. Conscious thought returned with a slap of clarity. Feena opened her jaws in shock. Dhauna's arm slipped free, and the old woman dropped to the ground and curled up around her torn arm. Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. There were voices:
"What's going on?"
"I don't know!"
"Did you hear that? Moonmaiden's grace-" "It's locked!"
"Stand aside! Bright Lady of the Night, lend me your strength!"
The clergy were coming in. Feena reached into her spirit. The wolf gave no resistance as she drew the woman back to the surface. The transformation felt like nothing at all-she shook herself back into human form just as the door of Dhauna's chamber groaned and tore out of its frame. Mifano shoved it out of the way and stumbled into the chamber-then froze. Clustered at the door, other priests and priestesses stopped as well, all of them staring in horror.
In the midst of shredded scrolls and torn clothing, Feena rose up above Dhauna's huddled, shivering form-naked, blood-smeared, and completely numb.
She drew herself up and moved toward the door. Mifano stood aside. Selune's clergy leaped to get out of her way. Feena walked past them all and out into the corridor, turning toward her room in silent, brittle dignity.
Blood dripped from her chin onto her breast. She stopped and turned to the nearest person-Jhezzail-and said, "Younger sister…"
Jhezzail made no reply. Feena continued anyway.
"The High Moonmistress must be taken to the infirmary immediately and given a sprig of belladonna to eat. A fresh sprig. It will prevent her from becoming a werewolf." She focused on the girl. "Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, elder sister," Jhezzail stammered.
Feena turned away.
Sounds forced their way into her haze. Shouting. Screaming. Crying. Her name-Julith was calling her. Feena didn't answer.
She reached her room, opened the door, stepped through, and closed the door. Noises still reached her, including Julith's frantic calls. Footsteps raced along the hall outside, drawing nearer-Julith again, she was certain of it. Feena shot the bolt on the door, then sagged down against the rough wood as Julith began to pound against it from the other side.
The high, keening whine that welled up from deep inside Feena's belly belonged more to the wolf than to the woman, but the despair and horror behind it were entirely human.
–-
Adrey moved across the rubble strewn floor like a serpent. As she moved, she reached across her body and drew her sword. It left its scabbard with a dry hiss. Keph gasped.
She was carrying Quick.
A dark smile flickered across her face as she saw his surprise.
"It seemed appropriate," she said. "You already have the knife you used to kill me."
Keph glanced down. Shar's sacrificial knife was in his hand. He jerked and flung it away.
"Adrey," he said, "I didn't kill you!"
"You might as well have." Her voice was as cold as a winter wind. She lifted Quick, holding the rapier in front of her face. "Storm's lash!"
The lightning that writhed around the blade, bitterly white, brought no light to the darkened hall. Fear trembled through Keph's belly. He raised his hand and the disk of Shar that dangled from it.
"Shar-" he gasped. "Shar-"
"Shar take me?" Adrey laughed. "Uncle Keph, she already has. Don't you know any other spells?"
Mistress of the Night, he prayed, guide me.
Keph didn't speak the words, but they echoed in the hall just the same. Keph's gut twisted. An orison. One orison. Shar's guidance had shown him nothing more than damnation.
Adrey sank into a dueling pose, and Keph stumbled back.
"Adrey, I didn't mean it!"
"False regret does not become Shar's chosen," she snarled.