The draegloth smiled a mouthful of daggers, looked at Halisstra, and said, 'My mistress has not abandoned me, heretic.'
Before Halisstra could answer, Danifae slammed the head of her morningstar into Halisstra's back. Ribs cracked, and flesh punctured. Her breath went out in a whoosh. Blood poured down her back. She stumbled forward and fell.
Halisstra understood it all then.
Danifae had manipulated her, feigned a calling by Eilistraee. Danifae had simply wanted
Halisstra to kill Quenthel for her. And Danifae had arranged for the draegloth to kill Ryld.
Halisstra had been blind, seeing what she had wanted to see.
Now she would suffer the consequences.
'Halisstra!' exclaimed Feliane and ran toward her.
Standing over Halisstra, Danifae said, 'Jeggred, kill that tiny elf bitch.'
The draegloth roared and charged at Feliane, cutting her off before she reached Halisstra.
Wracked with pain, weighed down by the burden of her own stupidity, Halisstra nevertheless managed to get to her hands and knees. In her mind, a series of words kept repeating, words aimed at Eilistraee:
You could have warned me. You could have warned me.
Halisstra looked up as the draegloth tore into Feliane, his claws slashing and stabbing. Feliane answered with her own blade but Halisstra saw the fear in the small elf's eyes.
'Don't,' she tried to say to Danifae, but the word barely made a sound. She had no breath in her lungs.
Danifae again slammed her morningstar into Halisstra's back. Her armor absorbed much of the blow, but pain still knifed through her, and she fell back to the ground.
Her former battle-captive grabbed Halisstra by her hair and jerked her head back. Halisstra tried to bring the Crescent Blade to bear, but Danifae tore it from her grasp and cast it aside.
'You have something to say, Mistress Melarn?' Danifae hissed into her ear. 'No? Then watch,' she commanded.
Halisstra closed her eyes and shook her head.
'Watch!' Danifae ordered and shook her head by the hair.
Halisstra opened her eyes as the draegloth tore a claw across Feliane's face. The elf staggered back but spun away from the draegloth's follow up strike. The elf's blade opened a gash on the half-demon's stomach, but it did little damage.
Roaring so loud it hurt Halisstra's ears, the draegloth rushed Feliane. She answered valiantly,
but she was too small, too slow, too weak. The draegloth tore a gash in her chest, nearly jerked an arm from its socket, and finally knocked her to the ground.
Feliane lay there, breathing heavily but stunned, unmoving.
Halisstra suddenly remembered Feliane's words to her atop the tor: I'm afraid.
The draegloth loomed over her. Without preamble, he pinned her arms to the ground and began to feed. Her screams of pain were lost in the half-demon's hungry snorts.
Halisstra bowed her head. Tears leaked from her eyes, angry tears, tears of regret. She could not find her breath.
Danifae saw them and mocked her. 'Tears, Halisstra? For the weakling little elf?'
She slammed her fist into Halisstra's temple. Sparks exploded in her head. Unconsciousness threatened but did not come.
Danifae kicked Halisstra over onto her back. She lay there on the ground of Lolth's
Demonweb Pits, bleeding, gasping, her former battle-captive standing over her.
Danifae spat on Halisstra's breastplate, fouling Eilistraee's holy symbol. Halisstra did not care.
Eilistraee had fouled her own symbol by failing to warn Halisstra. Her priestesses had been no match for the servants of Lolth.
Eilistraee was weak. And Halisstra was foolish to have followed a weak goddess. She looked up at the blurry image of Danifae above her.
'Why?' she mouthed.
Danifae's mouth curled with contempt. 'Why?' She reached under her cloak and withdrew a chunk of amber in which was encased a spider-her holy symbol of Lolth. She held it before
Halisstra's face.
'This is why, Melarn. You were always weak. It's fitting that you served a weak goddess in the end. I, however, do not.'
Halisstra stared hate at Danifae and managed, 'You are still a Houseless battle-captive.'
Danifae sneered, stepped back, and raised her morningstar for a killing blow. When it came,
Halisstra summoned all of her strength and rolled aside.
The head of the weapon smashed into the rocks.
Halisstra found her knees and scrabbled after the Crescent Blade. She couldn't see clearly, and the pain in her ribs sent stabs through her.
The morningstar slammed into Halisstra's ribs and sent her sprawling to the rock. The pain was nearly unbearable.
Danifae loomed over her again, holding her morningstar high.
Sickening sounds came from behind Halisstra-the draegloth feeding on Feliane, lapping her blood, chewing her flesh.
'Why do you toy so with your food, Jeggred?' Danifae said, smiling. 'The Pass of the
Soulreaver and the vintage blood of Quenthel Baenre await.'
At that moment, Halisstra wanted death, wanted it more than anything. She closed her eyes and waited for it.
Eilistraee had failed her.
Halisstra had killed them all.
'Good-bye, Halisstra,' Danifae said, and smashed her morningstar down on her former mistress's face.
Halisstra felt a flash of pain then nothing.
Danifae stared down at the bloody body of her former mistress. She had made her sacrifice,
and so she could enter the pass.
'Praise Lolth,' she said, and gave Halisstra a final kick. She looked to Jeggred, who was feeding on the elf priestess's flesh. The elf's hand closed, opened. Soft moans escaped her.
Danifae smiled at the pain she must have been enduring.
'Come, Jeggred,' she said. 'It is time to follow after your aunt.'
The draegloth looked up from his feast. Blood soaked his muzzle. Shreds of flesh hung from his teeth.
'Yes, Mistress,' he said.
He rose and loped to her side, obviously reluctant to leave off his still living meal.
'How long before you kill her?' Jeggred asked. 'Her and the mage?'
'In due time,' Danifae answered.
Together, they walked into the Pass of the Soulreaver.
Chapter Fourteen
Gromph stood on the portico outside the temple's doors and used a divination to analyze
Geremis's personal protections. One after another, Gromph moved gently through the mage's protective spells: elemental wards, a spell that made the Dyrr wizard's flesh as hard as stone, a death ward, and … a feedback ward. Gromph raised his eyebrows at that last. The archmage rarely saw feedback wards; the lichdrow must have taught it to Geremis himself.
The feedback ward would turn back on Gromph the effect of any directly offensive spell he cast on the Dyrr wizard. The archmage would have to get rid of it.
