The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [139]
Groaning unconsciously, he knelt beside Brigit, gently reaching out to touch her cheek. Her eyelids were shut, and no sign of breath disturbed the golden strands of hair that had fallen over her mouth and nose.
But she was not dead-not quite yet, in any event. Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, fluttered open, and she looked up at him in a mute expression of her love. And when he clasped her small hand in his, he felt the slight returning pressure of her grip.
Then, as his heart broke, she died.
* * * * *
Tristan confronted the one-handed troll as the monster raised his toothed sword. When the beast leaped at him, the king slashed deeply into one of his legs, knocking him to the ground. Grim and implacable, as the monster wriggled at his feet, screaming, the High King drove the tip of Trollcleaver through the troll's foul heart.
A circle of the monsters had collected around him, standing well back from his gory blade, silently staring at the dead body of their leader. Tristan wasn't certain whether they intended to attack or flee, but the question quickly became immaterial as Grond Peaksmasher extended a stony arm and brought the massive, rock-studded club of his fist to earth, crushing the monsters in a single, smashing blow.
Too surprised to wonder about the colossus's apparent change of sides, the king turned back to his companions. Then, closer, he saw Deirdre and Robyn facing each other. Racing to them, he stumbled in between the two.
"No!" shouted Robyn. "This is my fight!"
"There won't be a fight!" he shouted back. "This is Deirdre-your daughter!"
"She is not our daughter! She has become the sword of the New Gods!" Robyn screamed back.
Deirdre lunged, swinging the axe into an arc that would have cut through Tristan and into Robyn had it landed. But stone fingers dropped from above with surprising quickness, plucking the diamond blade from Deirdre's fingers. Grond raised the axe, the artifact looking insignificant and tiny in his hands. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he crushed it to dust.
The dark-haired princess shrieked in rage, her face distorted beyond humanity. Like a deranged banshee, she raised her hands, spitting the initial commands to a destructive spell.
Before the incantation was complete, the tip of a steel blade erupted from Deirdre's chest in a fountain of blood. The princess looked down, gaping without comprehension, before slumping face forward to the ground.
Her sister, High Princess Alicia, stood behind her, blood still trickling down her blade while she stared at Deirdre's body in uncomprehending shock.
* * * * *
Exalted Inquisitor Parell Hyath stood upon the brink of pitching chaos, his hands held over his stomach in a posture of reflection and contemplation. This goddess, this Earthmother, was a deity of power beyond his calculations. Clearly it was time to summon his chariot, to return to societies more fertile to the dogma of Helm.
But before he could cast that spell, another man stepped from behind a tree. Hyath recognized Keane.
"It was you," said the wizard, his voice level. "I know that now. Once before I saw a spell cast in that pose, hands clasped over a fat belly. It was you!"
"What are you talking about?" demanded the priest
"It's the earthquake that made me remember," Keane explained, slowly approaching the cleric. Hyath took a step backward, frightened by some vague menace in the magic-user's demeanor. "I saw you during another one, another earthquake, but not so great as this."
"Explain yourself!" shouted Parell Hyath.
"In Baldur's Gate," the wizard continued, his voice still low and calm. "You cast the spell that consumed Bakar Dalsoritan. You killed him!"
The inquisitor's face went pale. "You're mad!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with terror, a terror that revealed beyond doubt to Keane that his memory was correct
The cleric suddenly pulled a hand from beneath his cloak, raising three fingers toward the magic-user in a desperate attempt to cast a spell, any spell that might