Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [122]
From somewhere outside the room came a series of sharp cracks, followed by the sound of falling rubble. The ground trembled under Cavatina's feet. She heard a hail of thuds on the roof. White dust drifted down from the rafters, gritty as powdered bone.
Cavatina shook it from her hair. "Have you contacted Qiluй?"
"She's not answering."
If it were true, it didn't bode well. Cavatina concentrated on the high priestess's face and said in an urgent voice, "Qiluй?"
No reply came.
Kвras gave her a flat, I-told-you-so stare.
"All right, then," Cavatina pushed that worry aside. It helped that she'd had a taste of what lay ahead. She wasn't afraid to die. Not anymore. "We'll carry the battle forward on our own. Do what we can to stop… whatever it is the Crones are up to."
She wound the chain of her holy symbol around her wrist and secured it. Then she glanced down at Kвras. "Before we begin, I'll need you to disguise me." She smiled grimly. "Let's just hope I do as good a job of impersonating a Crone as you did at feigning paralysis, that time the revenant attacked us."
The corners of Kвras's eyes slowly crinkled. He touched fingers to his mask and cast his spell.
As a gray robe cloaked her body and silver rings appeared on her fingers, Cavatina shuddered. She could feel her holy symbol against her wrist but couldn't see it. "Masked Lady," she whispered. "Forgive me this blasphemy."
She sensed Eilistraee's approval. Or, at least, her recognition that this was necessary.
Kвras, also disguised as a Crone, eased open the door. Together, they crept outside.
The main part of the temple lay just around the corner. As soon as they rounded it, Cavatina's hopes sank. The flat space ahead was packed with Crones. They stood, side by side, chanting and waving ring-bedecked hands. In front of them was what remained of Kiaransalee's chief temple, reduced to rubble. Hovering above was a sphere of utter darkness: the voidstone Kвras had spoken of earlier. Drifting above it, leading the Crones in prayer, was the spirit Cavatina thought she had slain.
Cavatina was shocked. It should have taken days for the ghost to rejuvenate. The voidstone must have accelerated the process.
Even as Cavatina and Kвras watched, the sphere of blackness expanded. Within the voidstone, Cavatina saw shapes: a vast army of undead, jostling one another and prodding at the sphere from within. At the front of their ranks stood an enormous, undead minotaur, eyes blazing with unholy fire.
Fire that matched the Faerzress pulsing through the stone below.
Cavatina glanced at Kвras. His illusionary face betrayed the grimness he felt. Cavatina could see the lack of hope in his eyes.
She feigned an optimism she didn't feel. "The spirit," she breathed. "We need to destroy her. What could permanently lay Cabrath to rest?"
"Only one thing," Kвras whispered back.
Hope sparked to life in Cavatina. "What's that?"
"Killing Kiaransalee."
Cavatina laughed bitterly. With the Crescent Blade in hand, she might have been able to do just that. But that weapon was back at the Promenade, in Qiluй's keeping. Cavatina was unarmed.
"Let's do what we can."
Kвras nodded.
Side by side, they shouldered their way into the chanting throng.
* * * * *
Q'arlynd handed a kiira to each of his apprentices. Baltak, eyes glittering greedily, clenched his fist around the stone. Alexa peered into the depths of her gemstone as if trying to assess its worth-or perhaps its mineral content. Zarifar closed his eyes and rolled his back and forth between his palms in a series of short jerks, turning the hexagonal crystal one facet at a time, his lips silently counting.
Eldrinn stared warily at the kiira he'd been handed. "Is it going to feeblemind me?"
"It might," Q'arlynd answered truthfully. The boy was only a half-drow, after all.
Alexa and Baltak glanced up sharply.
Q'arlynd raised a hand. "This isn't a time for lies. Too much is at stake. None of you belong to a House that matches what you