Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,101

spider’s quivering body. All the while, Halisstra and Quenthel remained kneeling. Halisstra, Q’arlynd saw, had her eyes tightly shut. Her lips moved. Q’arlynd wondered if she were whispering Eilistraee’s name. His sister held a sword in her hand—a straight-bladed sword. It should have been the Crescent Blade, according to what Leliana had told him. Halisstra, she’d said, had taken the Crescent Blade into the Demonweb Pits to kill Lolth, during the Silence.

Was that indeed the Crescent Blade, disguised by a glamor? If so, why hadn’t Halisstra used it, instead of kneeling meekly before Lolth’s throne? Had she lost her nerve, once in the godŹdess’s presence? That was easy to understand. Even viewing the Spider Queen at a distance—and removed in time—sent a hollow chill through Q’arlynd.

The spiders and yochlols finished their grim task and stepped back. Within the remains of the spider they’d torn to pieces, a form stirred. Then it rose, revealing itself to be a spider with Danifae’s face.

Was this the Lady Penitent? Was it Lolth, reborn?

The Danifae-headed spider turned to Quenthel and spoke to her, but the patter of the fountain obscured the words. Quenthel’s face twisted with fury, but she bowed her head. Then she stood, turned, and departed.

That left only Halisstra. She looked up at the Danifae-headed spider, said something, and tossed her sword to one side. She threw herself face-first on the floor. The Danifae-headed spider leaned over her, smiled, and sank her teeth into Halisstra’s neck.

“No!” Q’arlynd cried, despite himself. He watched, fists balled, as the seven lesser spiders lurched forward and sank their fangs into his sister. When each had left a bloody puncture, the Danifae-headed spider lifted Halisstra’s limp body and twirled it round, spinning her into a cocoon. Q’arlynd, looking on, told himself that this couldn’t be Halisstra’s death he was watching. His sister had lived beyond the events he was viewing. She’d led Cavatina into the Demonweb Pits, three years after these events. She’d survived this.

Q’arlynd wondered if he would have been strong enough to do the same.

The Danifae-headed spider dropped the cocoon to the floor. For several long moments, nothing happened. Then something poked at the cocoon from within, and tore it open. Q’arlynd leaned forward, cheering his sister on as she defiantly tore at the sticky silken threads. “That’s it, Halisstra,” he urged. “Tear free. You can—”

The words died in a croak as he saw what emerged from the tattered remnants of the cocoon. It wasn’t Halisstra in there, but a demonlike monster. The creature was twice the size Halisstra had been, with a hideously deformed face, spider jaws emerging from bulges on its cheeks, and eight spindly spider legs protruding from its chest.

Q’arlynd reeled back from the pool in alarm as the creature turned in his direction. He caught only a momentary glance of its face, but it was enough. The demon-thing that had emerged from the cocoon was indeed Halisstra, transformed.

“No,” he whispered. Yet there was no denying it. The creature he saw in the pool was the “monster” he’d seen emerging from the Moondeep Sea, during the expedition to the Acropolis of the death goddess. That had been only two years ago—after his sister had helped Cavatina kill Selvetarm. Had the Darksong Knight seen what Halisstra had become? Why hadn’t she told Q’arlynd this?

He shook his head. T’lar had gotten it wrong. Halisstra hadn’t been killed by the Lady Penitent. She’d been transŹformed into something… demonic.

“Eilistraee,” he whispered in a choked voice. “How could you have let this happen to one of your faithful?”

He backed away, unwilling to see more. He felt rough stone against his back and realized he was inside the cleft in the rock. A spray of water arced past his shoulder, into the second of the Fountains of Memory. Mist from the spray struck his face, and trickled down his cheeks like tears.

He wiped them away. His sister was lost, beyond redempŹtion. There was nothing he could do for her now. He needed to focus on the future, not the past.

He turned away from the terrible vision, and entered the cleft in the rock.

T’lar swung gracefully up onto the ledge. She was exhausted from her long climb. Her arms and legs shook, but she didn’t let that blunt her caution. She lifted the dark-lensed glasses that protected her eyes from the World Above’s harsh light, and looked cautiously around. Half a cycle had passed since she’d spotted her target on this ledge—the sun had set, and the moon had risen