Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [118]
Halisstra waved the sword over her head, still shouting—but at the same time looking nervously over her shoulder at the approaching fortress.
“Slay it!”
Selvetarm shifted his grip, still trying to bear down on Cavatina with his fangs. He’d yet to raise his head fully;
Cavatina swung back and forth, just over Halisstra’s head.
Cavatina realized what Halisstra was shouting. Not “slay,” but “take.” She held the sword by its point, blood dripping from her hand where she gripped the blade, offering the hilt to Cavatina.
Realizing that, Cavatina nearly cried. With an effort that took every bit of her will, she forced a numb arm to move. Leaden fingers spread. As she swung past Halisstra, she seized the hilt of the sword.
Selvetarm straightened, and Cavatina nearly dropped the sword. Slowly, with intense concentration, she forced her other hand to also close around the hilt. She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer with numbed lips …
And she could move again.
Selvetarm’s eyes widened.
Now! the sword howled.
Twisting in Selvetarm’s grip, she bent the upper half of her body forward, toward the god’s head. At the same time, she swung the Crescent Blade.
“Eilistraee!” she screamed. “Do not fail me!”
The Crescent Blade flashed toward Selvetarm’s neck, glinting red in the eerie light of the eight stars clustered above.
Selvetarm’s eyes widened.
The breeze that blew incessantly across the Demonweb Pits stilled.
Spiders halted in mid-scurry as the blade bit into flesh—and cut clean through it, in a spray of dark blood.
The neck was severed.
The head fell, at last releasing Cavatina.
“Eilistraee be praised!” Cavatina cried, exultant. “Selvetarm is dead!”
She twisted in mid-air, halting her fall with her magical boots. The demigod’s head slammed into the ground and shattered into bloody pieces, his body belatedly crumpling to a heap beside it. Cavatina threw back her head and laughed, tears streaming from her eyes. She’d done it! Slain Selvetarm.
Killed a demigod.
It felt incredible—a greater thrill than any she’d ever experienced. She raised the Crescent Blade above her head, triumph surging through her. For just an instant, her body flared with the moon-bright white of Eilistraee’s holy moonfire. On the ground below, spiders scurried away in terror, seeking shadows.
This, Cavatina exulted wildly, must be what Qilué feels each time she calls on Mystra’s silver fire.
It was incredible. Indescribable. Glorious.
Yes, the sword whispered. This is what it feels like to be a god.
The words startled Cavatina, brought her back to the here and now, reminding her that she was in the Demonweb Pits. Lolth’s domain. She saw the Spider Queen’s fortress hurtling toward her at an impossible speed, hastened to fury by the flare of moonlight that was Eilistraee’s sign.
Cavatina gripped the Crescent Blade firmly then decided against testing her luck a second time. Killing one deity had taken a miracle. Trying to kill a second would be demanding too much, especially if that god was Lolth, fully cognizant of what had just happened and protected within her fortress of iron.
Cavatina looked around. Halisstra was nowhere to be seen. Had she already escaped through the portal? Cavatina hoped so. She realized now that she’d been wrong about Halisstra. Even someone twisted into an evil caricature of her former self could, it seemed, be redeemed.
“Halisstra!” Cavatina shouted. The wind was rising, and spiderwebs snagged at the edges of her open mouth.
There was no reply.
Lolth’s fortress drew nearer. Halisstra or no, Cavatina had to leave.
Shaking her head at the sheer wonder of what she’d just done, she sprinted for the portal and leaped into it.
Dhairn cried out in triumph as he brought his blade down in a killing blow. The light pouring from