Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [109]
Leliana blinked in surprise. Had something gone wrong with his spell?
"Cowards!" Gilkriz shouted at the empty space within their circle.
The Crones surged forward, hands raised. Fell magic crackled from their fingertips. At Leliana's shouted order the Protectors whirled to face outward, raised swords pealing as the priestesses cried out their battle hymns. Then the Crones were upon them.
As the Protectors fought with song and sword, Brindell slipped between the combatants and ran toward the temple, her sling whirling. She must have spotted something within the building. A moment later, a monstrous figure, twice the height of a drow and with spider legs protruding from her chest, burst from the doorway.
"Halisstra?" Leliana gasped. "But how …?"
Brindell hurled her stone. It struck Halisstra's chest dead center, between the scrabbling spider legs. Halisstra skidded to a halt and shouted something, but her voice was swallowed by the silence that clung to her.
A hand raked Leliana's side, tearing open an bloody wound-a Crone, taking advantage of the distraction. Leliana slashed, her sword severing the Crone's arm. The Crone reeled away, howling.
Leliana chanced another glance and felt the blood drain from her face. A ghostly form had risen out of solid stone directly behind Brindell-the translucent image of a Crone. The spirit they'd been warned about! The halfling had her back to the thing; she'd never see it in time.
Leliana dodged between two Crones and rushed the spirit, singing a battle prayer that made her sword shimmer. But even as her weapon swept down, the spirit threw back her head and wailed.
The sound stabbed into Leliana like an icy finger, breaking her stride. Her sword connected with something-a glancing blow, struck a heartbeat too late. Leliana staggered past the spirit, her heart fluttering in her chest. All around her, she saw her companions turn an ashen gray as they sagged to the ground. Leliana and Tash'kla remained on their feet, but only barely. Tash'kla was bent over nearly double, arms clutching her chest, her sword limp in her hand.
The spirit gave a ghostly, laugh. "Finish them," she whispered.
The Crones closed in.
* * * * *
Cavatina stared at the spiderlike figure up ahead. Large as an ox, it stood at the end of the thread-thin path of moonlight she'd been following. She'd seen its kind before: retrievers often ventured into the prime material plane to hunt down those who had drawn the ire of a demon lord. She wasn't surprised to find one guarding the portal.
What was surprising was that the retriever hadn't moved. She'd observed it for some time, and it hadn't so much as shifted a leg. It stood, rigid as a statue. It might have been poised there for a day, or for a millennium, waiting for someone to approach the portal.
Cavatina took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. The battle with Wendonai had left her drained. She was naked, armed only with her singing sword. She would have to be careful.
She approached the retriever warily, sword in hand. The portal was a hole in the ground a pace or two from it, a round pucker in the hard, cracked soil. Next to this opening lay a huddled body. As she drew nearer, she recognized him by his robe: Daffir, the human diviner.
Even from several paces away, she could see that the human was dead. Fire had burned away his hair and crisped much of his scalp, revealing charred bone. The lenses that once hovered in front of his eyes lay on the ground nearby. His robe was a shredded mess, soaked with blood. He lay with one arm thrust stiffly forward, the fingers of that hand curled tight around a small silver disk. Sunlight glinted from it.
Cavatina crept closer. The retriever remained motionless.
She stepped around Daffir's body, close enough to have touched the demon. She leaned forward and prodded one of its legs with the point of her sword.
The blade clinked against solid stone.
She glanced back at Daffir. "So you managed to turn