Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [90]
She had been fighting lycanthropes most of her life, though. There were other ways to kill a werewolf.
Pinning Dhauna's forelegs with her body, she clamped a hand around her muzzle, forcing it shut. Her other hand snatched up a wadded piece of linen and pushed it down over the wolfs nostrils.
Dhauna began to thrash almost instantly. Feena leaned hard on her, a dead weight on her twisting body. Her hands clenched tight… tighter. Dhauna's snarls and growls became desperate, frightened whines. Feena's vision blurred with tears but she didn't let go. Even when Dhauna's whines and thrashing faltered and her body went limp, she didn't let go.
Finally, Dhauna's body shifted under hers, old wolf fading into elderly woman. Feena choked-and let go. Gathering Dhauna into her arms, she held the dead priestess close and sobbed.
The clerics of Moonshadow Hall caught them at dawn.
At first their pursuers had been nothing more than a glow of moonlight in the fields behind them. Then they had been a storm of hoofbeats. No matter what Keph and Julith tried, no matter where they fled, that storm followed. Every time Keph glanced over his shoulder, the Selunites had been a little bit closer, grim faces hunched low over their horses' shoulders. And Keph would crouch a little lower in his own saddle and urge the animal to greater speed.
They must have been halfway to Ordulin when his horse stumbled and went down. Keph landed on his side, facing east toward the rising sun-and the approaching pursuers. His horse was somewhere close, staggering and groaning. Hooves rang and slid on the ground just out of his vision; Julith reining in her mount and coming around. Keph twisted and forced himself up onto his knees. His palms were scraped raw. Blinding pain shot through one ankle at the slightest pressure and almost sent him down again.
"Keep going!" he gasped at the priestess.
"There's no point," Julith said. She passed a hand over her face and her own features returned. "It's over. Feena's had all the time she's going to get."
Hooves thundered on the ground, and they were surrounded.
Keph didn't think he'd ever seen priests and priestess, not even Bolan and Variance, look as dangerous as the Selunites did. The silver-haired dandy and gray-robed stork-Mifano and Velsinore, Keph guessed from Feena's descriptions-who rode at their head seemed ready to spit fire. Especially when they realized who it was wearing Feena's clothes.
"Julith!" howled Mifano.
For a moment, the priest was a silhouette against the glare of dawn. Then he moved closer, staring at Keph, and the young man got a better look at his face. Keph's stomach dropped.
Beshaba's arms, he choked silently.
Mifano was the priest who had interrupted his attack on Lyraene. He should have guessed. How many silver-haired priests of Selune could there be in Yhaunn?
It looked like Mifano hadn't forgotten him either.
"Hold him!" the priest snapped. "Take his sword!"
Three of the larger Selunites jumped down and grabbed him while others crowded around, spells ready if he tried anything. All Keph could do, however, was yelp as the Selunites hauled him to his feet and pain flared in his ankle. It was broken or at the very least sprained. As he swooned, a priestess pulled Quick and his belt pouch away from him.
Velsinore urged her horse forward, stopping in front of Julith. Her eyes were narrow.
"Iraelathe's Escape?" she asked. Julith nodded, and Velsinore's face twisted in anger. "Where's Feena?"
"Well away from you," Julith answered.
"You'll be banished from Moonshadow Hall for this."
Julith sat up straighter and said, "I wouldn't stay anyway. Not with you in charge."
Velsinore sucked in her breath, but her hiss of rage wasn't nearly so loud as the gasp of surprise from the priestess who had taken Keph's pouch. She had the pouch open. In her palm lay