Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [58]
"Why do you attack me, priestess?" she gasped. "I've done nothing to you."
The priestess yanked a hunting horn from her belt and blew a strident plea for help. Halisstra knew no one would arrive in time. She'd deliberately chosen an ambush point on the outskirts of the shrine's territory.
The crossbow bolt had nearly worked its way free of Halisstra's ribs. She yanked it out and tossed it down. "Your companion tried to kill me," she told the priestess. "And yet…" She lifted the cleric's body and tossed it down. "I showed mercy."
The unconscious cleric tumbled through the branches, the sticky webbing that coated him slowing his descent. He landed with barely a thud on the forest floor.
The priestess frantically sang a protective hymn.
"Don't you know who I am?" Halisstra cried. "Why do you fear me?"
"Your tricks won't work on me, demon," the priestess shouted back. Though her sword was steady enough in her hand, her voice quavered. She bent to touch fingers lightly to her companion's throat.
The gesture told Halisstra everything she needed to know: the pair were more than fellow clerics. No one but a lust-addled fool would pause to check if her consort was alive. Halisstra had made the right decision in not killing the male outright.
"I came to beg your help," she told the priestess. "And instead of showing Eilistraee's mercy, you and your male try to kill me." She leaped to the ground, clutched herself as she landed, and pretended to stagger. She forced herself to vomit, filling the air with the tang of bilious blood.
To her credit, the priestess didn't flinch. Even though Halisstra loomed over her, she stepped between Halisstra and the paralyzed male.
"I mean you no harm," Halisstra continued. "I'm looking for Lady Cavatina. She promised to help me." She looked down at her misshapen hands. "I wasn't always a monster. I was a priestess, like yourself, until I was transformed by Lolth's foul magic."
Doubt showed for the first time in the priestess's eyes. "Who are you?"
"Halisstra Melarn."
"No," the priestess whispered-but the word held no conviction. She lowered her sword slightly. "By Eilistraee's silver tresses, is it true?"
Halisstra lifted a hand, hesitated, then held out fingers that were dark with blood from her wounds. "It's true," she sang.
Into those two brief words, she spun powerful magic. The priestess's expression softened. She sheathed her sword. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Had I known-"
Halisstra waved the apology away, spiderwebs drifting from her hand. "How could you have known? I was captured by yochlols and subjected to…" She lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper, "… unthinkable torments. For nearly two years, I languished in the Demonweb Pits before at last escaping."
The priestess frowned. "Two years? Lady Halisstra, it has been nearly five years since you set out for the Demonweb Pits with the Crescent Blade."
"And nearly two years ago that I escaped-and returned to the Demonweb Pits with Lady Cavatina, to slay Selvetarm."
"But…" The priestess's frown deepened. "It was Lady Cavatina who killed Selvetarm… wasn't it?"
"With my help."
"Then why do the odes say nothing of-"
"Aside from Lady Qiluй, only Cavatina knew that I still lived. And Cavatina has a Darksong Knight's pride. She would hardly have admitted to letting Lolth's minions capture me a second time, would she? Better not to mention my involvement at all. To pretend that I had died years before, during Lolth's Silence."
At the word "died," the priestess glanced down at the male. The cleric didn't look good; his eyes had fully rolled back in his head and his skin was turning gray. Halisstra reached out and lifted the priestess's chin, forcing her to look away. "It's only a weak venom," she lied. "You have plenty of time to heal him. Plenty of time, still."
"Yes," the priestess repeated softly. "Plenty of time."
Her eyes reminded Halisstra of another