Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [169]
At the last moment, the bird veered away, its wing feathers brushing her face with a gentleness that was oddly familiar. It seemed to anticipate the drow's attack; Liriel's bolt of killing magic sizzled harmlessly into the night sky. She struggled to focus on the bird. It was a raven, with eyes the color of a winter sky. In some distant part of her mind, Liriel remembered the time that Wedigar had fallen upon her and Fyodor, clad in the form of a giant hawk. That hawk's eyes had been gray-like Wedigar's. At last she understood the nature of the avian beast.
So also did the power that gripped her. Rage, fierce and possessive and all-consuming, rose in Liriellike flame. As the giant raven circled around for another pass, the young drow priestess felt the inexorable demand of her goddess for the sacrifice required of all who walked the pathways of Lloth. Before Liriel could protest, the killing flame crackled ready at,her fmgertips. She watched, helpless and despairing, as Fyodor came steadily toward his death.
But the words of the shaman, spoken not long before, cut through the fog that clouded the drow's benumbed thoughts. "i'Our dealings with the gods are more honest. We name a bargain. If the god doesn't hold up his end of the deal, we call it off and go our own way. Why should we hold mortals to higher standards than gods?"
"Victory," Liriel murmured, taking strength from Ulf's remembered words. "i'Queen of Spiders, i promised you a victory; in return, you demand the death of one who above all others could help ensure it!"
With her last vestige of physical strength, the young drow tore the obsidian pendant from her neck and hurled the hated thing toward the sea. The fire magic that danced ready at her fingertips sped after it, flashing down into the sea and sending a geyser of salty steam jetting into the night sky;
"i'i have fulfilled my pledge to you, Mother Lloth," she whispered. "i'i am priestess no longer. From this moment until the time of my death, i wili have nothing more to do with you. This i swear, by all the power i call my own." Suddenly cut off from the evil power that had both sustained and tormented her, Liriel began to plummet toward the rock-strewn coast. Giant claws closed around her with startling gentleness; utterly spent, the drow allowed the blue-eyed raven to bear her away.
Despite the tumult of battle, Rethnor noted the mysterious fall ofhis berserker nemesis. As his warriors engaged the Holgerstead fighters, he stalked up to the dark-haired youth. This was not the battle he had craved, but it would have to do. Rethnor was not one to let an opportunity pass. The Luskar captain raised his sword high, preparing to cut down the defenseless fighter in a single stroke.
A woman's furious shriek startled him into immobility. Rethnor barely had time to swing his sword into defensive position before a familiar, pale-haired girl hurled herself toward him, armed only with a knife such as might be used to gut and clean a large fish. Rethnor instinctively parried the strike.
"Ygraine?" he muttered, staring with consternation at the illithid's slave.
"i'Dagmar," the girl spat.
The Luskar smiled grimly. He knew of this wench. Although he did not often fight women, it would give him pleasure to cut her down. Her cold ambition, her willingness to kill even her own sister to appease her ambitions, was enough to sicken even the hardened High Captain. But Dagmar did not yield to death so easily. With a fury that defied even his expert swordsmanship, the Northwoman pressed Rethnor back toward the rail.
"You have failed-all is lost!" she shrieked at him. "Ygraine lives; i am disgraced! You have commanded this from the start. Take me away from this place, promise me a place of power in your land, or die now at my hand!"
As she spoke, one of the Holgerstead berserkers tossed away his sword and strode toward the embattled girl.