Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,69
aura of all that was pure and good. None of them were the creature she sought.
“Eilistraee,” she sang. Her voice harmonized with Leliana’s, their music in time with their shared footsteps. “Hear our prayer. Send us a willing servant, in our time of great need. Send us the creature we seek.”
A sharp, acidic odor filled the room. The priestesses leaped back, their nostrils flaring, as a creature materialized in a burst of silver gold light. A delver!
Its fat, pear-shaped body nearly filled the chamber. Yellowish spittle drooled from its gaping mouth. Its two clublike arms were tipped with blunt black claws. Its head twisted back and forth as its single, glossy black eye swept the room. Then it surged at the pedestal, heaving itself up on its arms, the rest of its body following on a rippling underŹbelly. As it moved, it left an acid-singed patch of dead black moss in its wake.
A thick stench filled the air. Cavatina’s eyes teared, and her nose felt congested. On the far side of the room, Leliana wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Her expression, however, was exultant. The delver was doing its work. The gold-plated pedestal disappeared into its maw with a grinding noise, as did a chunk of the door. One bite at a time, the delver chewed at the stone. Rock dust filled the air, and the floor trembled. A head-sized hole appeared in the door, revealing the corridor beyond. As the delver gouged deeper, the hole widened. Chunks of brittle rock fell to the floor like scattered crumbs, hissing and bubbling from caustic spittle.
Suddenly the delver disappeared. The prayer that had susŹtained it had waned. Eilistraee’s magic could hold a celestial on this plane only for so long.
Cavatina strode forward. They’d done it! She crouched, ready to squeeze through the hole as soon as the rock stopped frothing. She heard a muffled peal: the alarms. She turned to Leliana. “Ghaunadaur’s fanatics must be inside the Promenade already.”
Leliana listened. “Sounds like they’ve come well past the spot where Qilué planted her trap.” She shook her head. “So much for them walking into it ‘meekly as rothe.’ “
Cavatina squeezed through the hole. Leliana followed. Together, they raced through the High House.
As they hurried down a corridor, Cavatina noticed the door to Qilué’s scrying room was open. She glanced inside and saw Meryl, standing beside a broken scrying font. The halfling was reaching for an object that lay on the wet floor: a metal cylinder as long as the halfling’s arm, with a knob at either end. Qilué’s blast scepter.
Was it Merylor a dretch?
Cavatina leaped into the room. Her sword flashed between Meryl’s fingers and the floor, preventing the halflingor dretchfrom picking up the scepter. Meryl jumped back, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Her mouth worked to form words, but none came out. She pointed at the scepter. “I couldn’t… the font… the demon …”
Cavatina glanced at where Meryl was looking. Bare, sickly-pale feet protruded from behind an overturned table: a dretch, lying prone and unmoving. A vial, its silver tarnished, lay on the floor nearby.
“My mother’s name,” Cavatina demanded, her sword point against the halfling’s chest. “What is it?”
Cavatina lifted her sword. This was Meryl. She walked around the overturned table and ensured the dretch was dead.
Leliana, who had run past, returned to the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
Cavatina waved her away. “It’s under control. Go. Find Rylla. She’ll need your help.”
Leliana nodded curtly and raced away.
Cavatina knelt beside the halfling. She noted the tears spilling down Meryl’s cheeks, and the bloody scratches on the little female’s arms and hands. Cavatina patted her shoulder. “Good work, Meryl. You fought well.”
The halfling sniffed. She picked up the blast scepter and held it out to Cavatina. “I couldn’t figure out how to work it. I had to use it like a club.” Her lips trembled. “That thing … scared me so. I wasn’t brave. Not like you.”
“Yes you were. There aren’t many who can stand up to a demon’s magical fear.” Cavatina gently took the blast scepter from Meryl. “Stay here. Lock the door. Don’t answer unless you’re sure it’s a priestess.”
“But how will I?”
“Get whoever knocks to sing a stanza of the Evensong.”
Meryl drew herself up and wiped away her tears. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go. You’re needed elsewhere.”
Cavatina saluted the halfling with her sword, and hurried away down the corridors, to the residence’s main entrance.