Ascendancy of the Last зкp-3

by Lisa Smedman

  Baltak had transformed his hair into the tawny mane of a lion and grown falcon wings in imitation of a sphinx. He kneaded the air, flexing his claws, reveling in the magical power that crackled through the night, proud to be a part of it. Zarifar, as always, was daydreaming. He stared up through the dome of force at the stars, drawing imaginary patterns between them.

  Alexa watched the spot where the teleportation circle had deposited them. She nodded to herself as a section of ground turned muddy-a sign that the cavern had flooded as planned, preventing anyone else from coming through.

  Seldszar cleared his throat. "Time to begin. Masters, please raise your fields."

  Q'arlynd thought he saw a flicker of movement, out beyond the dome of force. He peered in that direction, then decided it must be some creature of the World Above. Whatever it was, the dome of force would keep it at bay. And if it was a person out there, well…

  He touched his braid. The hair clip was still there, providing a solid, comforting presence.

  He returned his attention to the masters as Seldszar, Urlryn, and Masoj began their transmutations. Each pulled out a preserved eyeball dusted with powdered diamond, pricked his finger, and allowed three drops of blood to fall. The orbs on their palms spun, and three multicolored globes of magical energy sparkled into existence. As these fields spread, a hissing rose from each box they touched. The boxes rattled slightly, as if jiggled by a mild earth tremor. Ghostlike images danced above them like heat mirages, as enchanted rods, rings, potion vials, robes, and amulets were consumed. Q'arlynd glanced at Seldszar, wondering if the Master of Divination was wincing behind those dark lenses.

  Seldszar raised his hand. At his signal, each of the mages cast his spell. Seldszar crossed his hands against his chest, and flung them apart, shouting the abjuration that would shatter enchantments. The magical field around him exploded, streaks of energy shooting out into the night. Urlryn dropped to one knee with surprising grace for a male of his girth and slapped a hand to the ground, shouting a curse-negating spell. The globe of energy surrounding him coalesced into thousands of drops of light that fell to the ground like rain. Masoj cast the third and most powerful abjuration, his fingers twining like knots. The globe of magical energy twisted into a tight, dizzying tangle-then shredded as he tore his hands apart.

  Now it was Q'arlynd's turn. He took a deep breath-and felt each of his apprentices inhale as he did. He'd been nervous until this moment, but the touch of their minds steadied him. So did the cool presence of the kiira on his forehead. He sent his mind deep into it, and sought out the ancestor who had honored Eilistraee.

  Are you ready? she asked.

  Q'arlynd nodded.

  Sing with me.

  Words shimmered in the air in front of him-words that only he could see. It was like reading a spellbook. As his eyes fell on each word, its sound was conveyed to his mind, together with the note it sustained in the melody. He heard himself singing, and was amazed at the beauty of his voice. He'd never heard it so rich, so vibrant. His apprentices, their minds linked to his, provided the harmony: Baltak a bold bass, Eldrinn a higher tenor, Zarifar a soft falsetto that twined delicately around Alexa's alto. Directed by his ancestor, Q'arlynd touched thumb to thumb, forefinger to forefinger, forming Eilistraee's sacred moon. As he sang the final verse of the hymn, he raised his hands above his head to frame the moon in order to draw a miracle down from…

  He gasped as he realized the moon wasn't there. Had he miscalculated the time it would set? He shook his head, certain he hadn't. The moon had been there, just a moment ago. High overhead and "half-masked" as the Nightshadows liked to say. And now it was gone.

  It can't be gone! his ancestor insisted.

  Baltak, Eldrinn and Alexa mentally echoed her alarm. Zarifar, however, shook his head. He's right; the pattern's changed.

  Ridiculous! Q'arlynd thought. There must be some other answer. Sweat trickled down his sides, under his robe. He felt Seldszar, Urlryn, and Masoj staring at him. Waiting for the miracle. Q'arlynd's hands trembled above his head. "Negate the forcedome!" he shouted. "It's blocking the moon. I need to see it!"

  Urlryn barked out a transmutation and pointed. A thin green beam shot from his fingertip and struck the forcedome, disintegrating it. All three masters looked up, apparently unperturbed by a sight that would have turned cold the blood of any surface elf. The moon had indeed vanished. A dark hole, bereft even of stars, punctured the sky where it had been. Only Selune's Tears remained.

  Eilistraee! his ancestor wailed.

  "I… can't continue," Q'arlynd stammered. "Not with the moon gone."

  "What trickery is this?" Masoj said, his voice tight with suspicion. He wheeled on Seldszar and shook a bony finger. "I will expect payment, Master Seldszar. I performed my part of the bargain."

  "You shall have it," Seldszar promised.

  Masoj folded his arms, thrust his chin in the air, and teleported away.

  Urlryn glared at Q'arlynd, his face darkening. "You were supposed to call down a miracle, not bore a hole in the ceiling!"

  "That's…" Q'arlynd bit his tongue against the urge to tell the ignorant Urlryn that it was sky above them, not stone. He heard his apprentices' mental laughter. He shoved them out of his mind. "The disappearance of the moon wasn't my…" He faltered as he caught sight of the adamantine oval that adorned his wristband.

  The glyph was gone from his House insignia. Vanished, just like the moon.

  Seldszar drifted closer and stared at him over his dark lenses. "I was led to believe we would succeed," he said softly. From anyone else, it would have been a threat.

  "Your visions predicted success?" Q'arlynd asked. He wet his lips. "Then why didn't-"

  It will. But you must be willing to make the sacrifice.

  "I don't understand," Q'arlynd protested aloud.

  Trust in me, sang a female he hadn't heard before. The voice was soft, distant, and echoing. Take the next step in the dance. Leap!

  Q'arlynd could see it now. The future. The end to everything he'd ever known. One tiny step would take him there-take them all there.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in terror. He felt the same way he had the first time he'd dared a free-fall from Ched Nasad's streets. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Memories flooded back and were absorbed by the lorestone on his forehead. The step off the edge. The plunge through space, wind tearing at his piwafwi. The wild laugh that had burst from his mouth. The sudden, dizzying jerk as his House insignia halted him just in time, preventing him from dashing his brains out on the cavern floor that had, a few heartbeats previously, been so far, far below.

  So far…

  "And yet so near," he whispered.

  He squared his shoulders. Opened his eyes. "I'll do it." He lifted his hands and completed the prayer.

  Beside him, Seldszar smiled. Within the kiira, so did his ancestors.

  "Something's happening," Baltak bellowed a moment later. He pointed. "There!"

  "And there! And there, and there!" Zarifar cried.

  Q'arlynd lowered his hands and looked around. A faint green glow that crackled and wavered like Faerzress formed a circle around the spot where they stood. The circle of light broke apart an instant later into several sections, each of which collapsed into a circle itself, then to a point. A sapling sprouted from the center of each, uncurled, and opened glowing green leaves.

  Q'arlynd heard Zarifar counting. "… nine, ten, eleven."

  "The miracle?" Q'arlynd breathed.

  The miracle, his ancestors confirmed.

  Q'arlynd felt something warm and wet strike his head. Drops pattered against the ground, and the dry earth drank them in. The others started as the raindrops struck them. Q'arlynd smiled to himself. They'd probably never felt rain before. Then a drop trickled down Q'arlynd's face, to his lips. He tasted blood.

  Startled, he wrenched his head back-and saw that the rain was falling only on this spot. Falling, as if being poured, from that terrible w
ound where the moon had been. He suddenly shivered, worried he'd sung the prayer incorrectly. Done something wrong. Was this the Dark Disaster, all over again? The legends said the sky had wept blood…

  He heard a pop of in-rushing air-Urlryn, teleporting away. Of the three masters, only Seldszar remained. He stared at Q'arlynd through those dark lenses. "Let him go. This no longer concerns him."

  Q'arlynd nodded. He watched, fascinated, as the saplings grew tall as the Darkfire Pillars. The trees bent inward, their branches twining together to form a dome overhead.

  "They're caging us in," Baltak growled.

  "Should we teleport away?" Alexa asked.

  Eldrinn turned to Seldszar. "Father?"

  The Master of Divination patted the air. Wait.

  Zarifar stared up at the sky. He raised a hand above his head, fingers and thumb curled to form half of the moon-symbol Q'arlynd had just made. "The pattern's changed," he said. "Just like the moon."

  Q'arlynd realized the blood rain had stopped. All that remained were drips, falling from the intertwined oak trees above. He looked up through their branches and saw that Zarifar was right. The moon had returned. It hung in the sky, a slim crescent of white, surrounded by a glittering halo that flickered from blue, to green, to lavender…

  "Just like faerie fire," Eldrinn breathed.

  The boy stood just to Q'arlynd's right, but Q'arlynd couldn't see him. He wondered why Eldrinn had cloaked himself in magical darkness, but realized the final transformation had at last come about. He could barely see any of his apprentices. Nor could he see Seldszar clearly, or the oak trees that had regrown in the shape of the temple, nor the forest beyond them. Everything was dim, and dark, and indistinct.

  "What's happened?" Alexa's voice asked. "I can't see you-any of you!"

  "Show yourselves!" Baltak roared.

  Q'arlynd concentrated, and pointed at Baltak, but nothing happened. The faerie fire that should have outlined his apprentice failed to materialize. Instead he used an evocation. A flicker of fire danced above his outstretched palm.

  He stared, wonderingly, at what the wavering light revealed. His skin was no longer black. It had turned brown. And his hair, when he flicked the braid forward over his shoulder, wasn't white any more. It had turned a glossy black.

  He was no longer a drow.

  Judging by the way his apprentices were fumbling about, they'd all been transformed as well. He laughed, realizing now what had drawn him to them, and to Seldszar: They shared a common ancestry.

  "What's happened?" Baltak shouted. "Tell me!"

  Seldszar's voice came from the darkness to Q'arlynd's left. It sounded cool and unruffled. "Our casting was successful. We've broken our link with the Faerzress. Just as the ancestors promised. We've undone the Descent. We're dark elves again."

  The two shapes that were Eldrinn and Alexa gasped. The larger shape on Q'arlynd's left that was Baltak growled softly.

  "Out of the darkness and into the light," Q'arlynd said. He felt triumph-they'd just reversed the magic of the Descent! Yet he also felt a looming dread. By transforming, they'd also condemned themselves.

  Not condemned, but freed.

  He caught a glimpse of moonlight glinting off glass: the dark lenses Seldszar was wearing. He smiled, realizing they hadn't been intended to shield his eyes from the light of the World Above. They were magical lenses, like those the surface elves needed in order to see when they ventured into the Underdark.

  "You knew this would happen," Q'arlynd told the other master. "Didn't you? You saw what was to come, in one of your visions."

  "Not quite," Seldszar said with a chuckle. He touched his forehead. "They told me."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Q'arlynd cried.

  We did, his ancestors answered. You agreed.

  "Ease yourself, Q'arlynd." Seldszar said. "All is as was foretold."

  "But we're blind!" Eldrinn blurted. "Helpless as surface elves. How can we possibly survive back in Sshamath?"

  "We won't be returning there," Seldszar said. "Preparations have been made. The College of Divination is already relocating as we speak; the necessity of fueling our casting with magical items provided an excellent screen for getting out much of our wealth. We're going to start afresh on the surface, in the City of Hope. The College of Ancient Arcana will do the same. We'll be welcome, there. The sharn have promised me that."

  Q'arlynd had no idea who the sharn were-but he had the feeling he was about to find out.

  "What about the others?" Alexa asked. "In Sshamath… and elsewhere? Have all of the drow changed?"

  Not all, the ancestors told Q'arlynd. Only those few without taint. Miyeritari, such as yourselves, and those who follow the dance. By Eilistraee's grace, they too will have transformed.

  Q'arlynd glanced at his House insignia, then up at the changed moon. "Are you certain about that?"

  Before his ancestors could answer, he heard the whisper of a thrown dagger. He grunted as it slammed into the back of his neck.

  CHAPTER 13

  Halisstra lifted the blood-smeared Crescent Blade so Eilistraee could see it. "Wendonai said you would come. He said you couldn't bear to lose your high priestess." She smirked. "He was right."

  "I came for another reason," the goddess replied. "To offer you redemption. Your heart aches for it." She held out a hand. "Reach for it!"

  Swift as a hunting spider, Halisstra struck. The Crescent Blade flashed, and fingertips fell. They pattered to the floor beside the decapitated Darksong Knight.

  Eilistraee's eyes blazed red. A bolt of braided light and shadow burst from her forehead and slammed into Halisstra's chest, rocking Halisstra back. The pain was intense, but it lasted only a heartbeat. Halisstra shook it off and menaced the other goddess with her weapon.

  Eilistraee, however, didn't press her attack. She squeezed her hand shut and sang. A nimbus of moonlight played around her fist, and the blood flow halted as her wounds sealed shut. When she opened her hand again, however, the fingers were shorter than they had been.

  Once again, the hand extended. "Come. Rejoin my dance."

  Halisstra swayed forward-then angrily shook off the enchantment the other goddess had tried to ensnare her with. This time, she told herself, she would be stronger. She wouldn't kneel, wouldn't grovel. Not like she had before Lolth.

  "I don't need your redemption," she snapped. "I'm stronger than you."

  In one sense, it was true. Though Eilistraee glowed with an unearthly light, Halisstra wasn't blinded by it. She didn't wince and fumble about like a mortal drow. And though the high priestess's body had enlarged when the goddess stepped into it, Halisstra still stood head and shoulders taller. Eilistraee was the weak one, not her. Halisstra was stronger, swifter, and armed with the Crescent Blade. The other goddess was frightened of her. She didn't dare attack Halisstra.

  "You can't kill me," Halisstra taunted. "If you could, you would have done it already."

  "Are you certain of that?" A glint of blue danced in Eilistraee's moonstone eyes. She pointed at Halisstra's chest. "It looks as though Lolth is no longer healing you."

  Halisstra glanced down. It was true. Black, tarry blood seeped from the wound Eilistraee's magic had bored-a wound that should have closed by now. That frightened her, more than she cared to admit. If she died, her soul would fly back to the Demonweb Pits. Back to Lolth's cruel embrace.

  "I don't need Lolth!" Halisstra shouted. "I'm a demigod!"

  "Then why do you pretend to be Lolth's champion?" Eilistraee whirled, her hair lifting like a skirt. When it settled again, tiny knots were in it. Inside each, a tiny figure writhed. "That's what these priestesses thought, wasn't it? They worshiped you as Lolth's champion, not as a goddess in your own right." She whirled again, and the knots disappeared. "And now they've gone to face Lolth's wrath."

  "That's a lie!" Halisstra screamed. "They worshiped me! Through subservience to me, they'll be reborn."

  Eilistraee's voice was soft and mocking. "If you're a demi
god, then why do you need the Crescent Blade?"

  "To kill you," Halisstra spat.

  "Why haven't you used it? What's staying your hand?" Green-tinted eyes stared at her from behind the mask. "Could it be mercy?"

  "Hardly that!" Halisstra laughed and brought the weapon to her lips. She licked Cavatina's blood from it, and smiled. "I like to savor my victories. I notice you weren't able to regenerate your fingers. I think I'll cut you apart, a little at a time. Make you suffer, just like I did."

  Eilistraee didn't react to the jibe. "You're not Lolth's," she continued relentlessly. "You never were. You swore an oath to me. By song and sword. You bear my crescent on your knee."

  "That was another me!" Halisstra snapped. "The mortal I once was."

  Her knee, however, suddenly stung, as if freshly cut. She glanced down at the faded gray scar-the tiny nick Ryld's sword had made, when she danced around the blade to fool Eilistraee's priestesses. Ryld. The lover who had followed her into Eilistraee's faith, only to die. She shook her head. She hadn't thought of him in years.

  "Do you remember my song?" Eilistraee asked.

  Voices sang in Halisstra's memory. Trust in your sisters; lend your voice to their song. By joining the circle, the weak are made strong.

  Had there been voices singing that outside her temple, just a moment ago?

  Halisstra glared at Eilistraee. "Lolth did claim me for a time, but no more. I'm not hers-and I'm not yours. You abandoned me in the Demonweb Pits. You stood and watched as Lolth degraded me, consumed me. You watched and did nothing!" She was surprised at the vehemence that boiled out of her. She hadn't thought it would still sting. She gripped the Crescent Blade tightly, reminding herself that her mortal life was over. Done. She was Lolth's plaything no longer. She'd never have to look upon that gloating, Danifae-faced goddess again.

  Until she killed her.

  "Yes," Eilistraee said, softly as a sigh. "Kill Lolth. That's what the Crescent Blade was forged to do. That's what you were destined to do. You faltered, the first time…"