Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [116]
The others might, in time, figure out the truth. Q'arlynd doubted it would matter. In his vision of Eldrinn opening the door-the vision he hadn't shared with them-Eldrinn had traced a different symbol on the door. A different House glyph, Q'arlynd surmised. Likely that of his own House.
Kraanfhaor's Door, he suspected, would open only to someone who knew how to use his own, very personal, knock.
Q'arlynd understood why he had hidden his hand from view. Why he would hide his hand from view.
"Right," he said. "Time to get this thing open."
He handed the staff to Eldrinn then turned, faced the door, and raised his hand.
CHAPTER 13
Halisstra stared at the ghost that floated a few paces away. The spirit stared back at her with hollow, haunted eyes. Behind the ghost, a drow female in gray robes and skullcap slipped quietly out through the door, exiting the ruined building.
The spirit's voice was a chill whisper. "You serve Lolth?"
Halisstra gave a feral grin. "I was the Lady Penitent. But no more. I'm dead."
"Dead?" The spirit laughed softly. "No. You live."
Halisstra blinked in surprise. She was alive? She glanced down at herself and saw her bruises fading, the slow knitting of the flesh she'd scraped in her tumble from the portal. The sight sent a chill through her. She hadn't died on the Negative Energy Plane. Lolth, once again, had forced her to live.
"No," she snarled in dismay.
The spirit drifted closer. "You wish to die?"
Halisstra took a step back. "Where am I?" She glanced around. "What is this place?"
"The Acropolis of Thanatos."
Halisstra noted the rings on those ghostly fingers. "You serve Kiaransalee."
"Yes."
Through the ghost's translucent body, Halisstra spotted a tiny spider on the wall behind the spirit. Her eyes widened. Lolth's sign-in Kiaransalee's stronghold. Halisstra hadn't arrived by chance. The Spider Queen had sent her.
A test!
Halisstra flexed her claws. Her eyes locked on the spirit. Before she could spring, however, a commotion erupted outside. Halisstra heard several female voices, singing a hymn, and a male voice, shouting an insult. The ghost started, let out a whispered curse, then slipped through a wall, disappearing.
Halisstra hurried to the doorway and peered out.
Five priestesses of Eilistraee stood in a circle, swords in hand. With them was a male wearing cloth-of-gold and a skullcap. They were surrounded by more than a dozen of Kiaransalee's priestesses. Gray-robed Crones bore down on them, cackling and chanting.
Halisstra hesitated. What did Lolth expect her to do? Slay the living? The dead? Both?
One of Eilistraee's priestesses-a halfling-burst from the circle, whirling a sling over her head. Halisstra had been spotted! That decided it. She leaped from the ruined building. She, too, could fight with song-with her bae'qeshel magic. But even as she began to sing, the halfling's stone thudded into her chest and smashed to pieces against her hardened skin. Silence enveloped her.
The halfling halted and fitted another stone to her sling. She didn't see the spirit-Crone rising out of the stone behind her. Another of Eilistraee's priestesses spotted it and rushed the spirit, sword raised. Before she could get close, the ghostly Crone opened her mouth in a wail Halisstra couldn't hear. Like stalks of scythed wheat, the priestesses of Eilistraee fell.
Halisstra snarled, envying them.
Now only the Crones remained. No matter. Halisstra would still do her best to prove herself. She lashed out with a fist, snapping the neck of a nearby Crone. She tore a second to pieces with her claws.
The ghost-Crone turned, her pale face a study in rage. Her features stretched, thinned, became even more ghastly. When the priestess shrieked, Halisstra could feel waves of magical fear billowing toward her. Her body, however, was a rock that parted this chill current. The magical fear skewed off to each side, leaving her unscathed.
Halisstra taunted the spirit in silent speech. Kill me. Lolth dares you to try.
Mention of the goddess's name maddened the spirit. She howled loud