Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [65]
“I was drow,” the creature continued, flexing its newly repaired fingers. “Now I am the Lady Penitent.”
The title meant nothing to Cavatina. “What is it you do penance for?” she asked.
The creature watched as its fingers healed. When they were whole again, it flexed them then lowered its hand. “Everything,” it said, “but most of all, my weakness.”
“What weakness is that?”
The creature said nothing.
“Come down from the branches,” Cavatina suggested. “Let’s finish this.”
The creature shook its head.
Cavatina knew what the creature was doing: stalling. Already, Cavatina could feel the effects of the glowing platform. Her legs had started to tremble, and her very bones felt wobbly. The glowing stone’s fell magic was affecting her. Even looking at the platform out of the corner of her eye made her feel slightly nauseous. Stepping off it, however, would mean floundering about in deep water that probably concealed more of those rot-creatures. She might be able to drive the monster who gloated down at her away with a spell, giving her time to recover her boot, but Qilué had ordered her to learn as much as she could about it, and a Darksong Knight followed orders. Cavatina whispered a restorative spell. Divine magic flooded into her, negating the effects of the glow.
The creature must have caught the quick look Cavatina had given the glowing green stone and heard her whispered prayer.
“That’s right,” it taunted. “It’s made of sickstone. Appropriate, don’t you think, for a temple to Moander?”
Cavatina knew the name well, despite the god’s relative obscurity. Moander had been a deity of corruption and decay, a god who had been slain, not very many years ago, by a mere mortal—a bard named Finder. For whatever perverse reasons, Lolth had adopted Moander’s name as one of her aliases, possibly to claim his human worshipers.
“Is that why you led me here?” Cavatina asked. “Is this spot now sacred to your goddess?”
“Which goddess is that?” the creature asked. It flicked a hand, sending a spray of tiny spiders into the air. “The Dark Mother, or …” she touched forefinger to forefinger and thumb to thumb to form a circle, “her daughter?” Webs flowed from her fingers like pulled taffy as she pulled her hands apart, laughing.
Cavatina’s anger rose inside her like a banked fire. “You dare,” she whispered.
She hurled her sword, snapping out a prayer as it flew through the air. Her aim was true. Guided by the goddess’s magic, the singing sword plunged into the creature’s chest, burying itself nearly hilt-deep. The creature let out a shriek and flailed its spider legs as Cavatina moved her hand through the air, yanking out the sword and preparing for a second thrust.
The creature glared down at Cavatina. “You can’t kill me!” it raged. “Nothing can kill me. She keeps …” It coughed, doubling over, “sending …” another cough, one with bloody spittle, “me back.”
That said, it sprang from its treetop perch with a leap that sent the dead tree crashing over backward. Cavatina tried to send her sword after it, but the creature was too fast. It scrambled away through the treetops and disappeared from sight.
Cavatina called her sword back into her hand and cast a second restorative spell upon herself. The sickstone on which she stood had once again sapped her strength. Then she waded to the spot where her boot floated. The water rose to her chest before she reached it, and she had an awkward moment of balancing on one foot in the muck while trying to pull the boot on. Foul-smelling water soaked her clothes and slimed her skin. When she at last levitated out of it, the stench clung to her clothing and armor. She cocked each leg, letting the water drain from her boots. Then she set off in pursuit of the creature.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice—she’d make sure she kept her feet well away from its grasping hands.
The creature was easy to follow. Once again there was a clear trail of broken branches. That trail, however, led in a big circle, back to the ruined temple.
Cavatina kept well