Realm of Light (13 page)

“No!” Caelan cried
hoarsely, but Elandra put her hand in the clasp of the Guardian. She flinched
and for a moment her eyes went blank. Then she was frowning and pulling free.

Caelan felt hollow
with despair at what she’d done. But it was too late now to stop her. He
couldn’t believe that now, at this final moment, he had failed to protect her.

Taking Elandra’s
hand, Caelan faced the Guardian. “Let us go,” he said angrily.

The Guardian
turned its back on them and glided away. Caelan followed, leading Elandra, who
was weeping. She covered her face with her free hand and would not look at him.

Ahead of them,
yellowish green light glowed between the two tall pillars. As before, when
Caelan gazed at it, his eyes began to itch and burn. What would happen when
they stepped into that light? What would it do to them? He did not want to
know, yet it was the only way out.

The Guardian drew
its cowl over its head, concealing its terrible visage at last, and stopped by
the gate so that the eerie light shone over its black robes. It raised both
hands, and the soldiers jumped to their feet, roaring a deafening torrent of
sound.

It was louder than
anything Caelan had ever heard in the arena, savage and lustful and triumphant.
He did not know why they were cheering. He did not think he wanted to know.

The roar went on
and on until the ground shook with it. The Guardian spoke, but its words could
not be heard in the din. Words appeared in the air, hanging there, burning
there for a moment, before fading with little wisps of black smoke.

The Guardian
pointed at the gateway, and Caelan drew in a deep breath. He held tightly to
Elandra’s hand, determined not to lose her now, yet knowing he already had.

“The Gate of
Sorrows,” the Guardian said, still pointing. “Go.”

Caelan glanced at
Elandra, who stood with her face averted from his. “Be brave,” he said, as much
to encourage himself as her. “We’re nearly there.”

She did not
respond.

Without further
hesitation, he stepped between the pillars and led her into the light.

He was cold,
terribly cold. Rousing slowly, at first he was conscious only of the stiff ache
of his muscles, of how tightly his arms were clamped to his sides in an effort
to conserve warmth.

Something
feather-light tickled his face. He frowned, struggling against the mist of
sleep. A pungent scent of pine needles filled his nostrils, awakening him
further. From overhead, he heard the sharp, raucous cry of jackdaws. The sound
and scent reminded him of home, except that he used to sleep warm and snug in
his chamber.

The tickling
sensation came again, brushing his cheek, his eyelashes, his nose.

Opening his eyes,
Caelan saw falling snow, the fat wet flakes spiraling down through a gray mist.
He was lying outside on the ground, and it was snowing on him. Small wonder he
felt so cold.

Then the fragrance
of evergreens registered fully in his muddled senses. He blinked and focused on
the nearby pines and spruces.

Abruptly he sat
bolt upright and looked around.

He was in a small
clearing, a recent one by the look of the freshly cut stumps still sticky with
golden resin. The ground of spongy forest earth and layers of brown needles
looked trampled and scraped by the logs that had been cut and dragged away.

And yet... and
yet... he knew this ominous sky that was the color of tarnished silver. Drawing
in another breath, he let the clean scents of snow and forest clear his mind.
The falling snow, fluffy soft, melting as soon as the flakes landed, greeted
him like an old friend.

He was home.

Caelan drew a
breath so rapid and sharp it hurt his lungs.

Digging his hands
into the soil, he lifted dirt and pine needles to his face and inhaled the
moist, earthy fragrance.

Then his hands
began to tremble, and the soil crumbled through his fingers. Kneeling, he
lifted his face to the sky, blinking a little against the falling snow, and let
tears fill his eyes.

To be in Trau
again. It was as if years had dropped away and he was a boy again. Just an
ordinary boy full of dreams and mischief, not yet tainted by evil or cruelty or
betrayal. A boy who had not yet killed. A boy not yet tested to the depths of
his scarred soul.

Hope filled him,
and he dared believe that by some miracle the shadow gods had returned him to
the past, where he could start again, try again, avoid the mistakes that had
cost him so dearly.

But then he
glanced down and saw the crimson folds of his cloak spread on the ground about
him. It looked like blood here in the mist and snow. He drew a deep breath and
felt the solid constriction of his armor. There was no going back, ever. There
was only the bitter present, harsh and worn. Trau legends said a man carried
his sins in a basket on his back, like firewood, and as each man walked his
path of life, collecting sticks, the basket grew heavier.

It was true.

“Caelan?”

The voice startled
him. Snapping his head around, he saw Elandra threading her way through the
stumps. In her cloak of golden wool and cream-colored gown, her auburn hair
streaming free over her shoulders, she looked like a maiden of the woods, as
golden and vivid as autumn itself. But there was a frown on her face, and as
she drew near, her eyes looked puzzled.

She stopped and
stared at him, still kneeling with a clot of earth clenched in his hand. “Are you
unwell?”

Embarrassed to be
caught like this, with his emotions exposed and naked, Caelan hastily shook his
head.

“Then rise and
tell me where we are. I have never seen such strange trees. And what is this
that falls from the sky? Snow?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I was told it
could snow in Imperia, but rarely. I have never seen anything like this.”

She looked
impatient and wonderstruck at the same time. He gazed up at her, captured anew
by her beauty and vitality, and lost his heart to her all over again.

Her presence drove
away the ghosts. He felt stronger and more in command of himself. “It will snow
all night,” he predicted, suddenly enjoying the opportunity to introduce her to
the weather of a real winter. “By dawn, you will no longer see the ground. All
will be covered in white snow, as though magic has been worked.”

Her frown
deepened, indicating that his description had failed to enchant her. “Magic?”
she echoed. “Yes, I would say it has been worked. Where are we?”

“Trau.”

Her mouth fell
open, but it was a moment before she spoke. “I don’t believe it.”

Caelan got stiffly
to his feet, then stood still for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over
him. As soon as it passed, he opened his eyes and squared his shoulders. “Trau,”
he said firmly.

“We are a thousand
leagues from where we need to be. What game did the Guardian play with us?”

Caelan had no
answer for her. “At least we are no longer in the realm of shadow.”

She gestured
impatiently and began to pace back and forth. “Yes, but that hardly matters now.
What of Kostimon? What of the army? How am I to join them if I am in
Trau?”

Caelan stopped
listening. Turning aside, he glanced up and saw the jagged peaks of the
Cascades looming high on the horizon. Caelan felt the wind in his face, gentle
as yet, but with a threat of sharpness. It had shifted since he first awakened.
It was blowing off the glacier now, and that meant a storm was coming. He
suspected it was mid-afternoon if not later, and they had little time to find
shelter. Then it was as though the sight of the mountain fully registered in
his mind. He let his jaw drop open while he stared.

“Caelan!” Elandra
said sharply, recapturing his attention. “Are you listening to anything I say?”

He turned to her
slowly, feeling stunned and not quite in possession of his wits. “I am home,”
he said, and even his voice sounded hollow.

Impatience crossed
her face. “Yes, and I am freezing,” she said angrily. “Of course you are home.
You have already said this is Trau.”

“No,” he said. A
chill that had nothing to do with the falling temperature ran through him.
“Home.
This is E’non land.”

She stared at him,
her eyes slowly widening. “Are you sure?”

He pointed. “There
are the mountains. Up there is the glacier I used to ride across as a boy,
loving the cold. I called it the top of the world.”

“Did you bargain
with the Guardian for this?” she asked. “When you communed with it in silence,
so that I could not hear what was said, is this what you asked for? Did you
think I would be a willing party to this abduction?”

He stared at her,
taken aback by her anger. “What?”

“Are you mad or
arrogant or simply a fool?”

His bewilderment
grew. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play the
simpleton!” she cried, sending startled jackdaws bursting up from the treetops.
“You tried to seduce me. You claimed to love me. Did you think that was enough
to make me willing to run away with you?”

Finally he began
to understand what she was saying. His own temper sparked. “I haven’t abducted
you.”

“Haven’t you? I
told you I wasn’t free. I thought that was clear.”

“Very clear.”

“Then why have you
brought me here?”

“It was not my
choice.” But even to himself, that defense sounded lame and clumsy.

“Wasn’t it?” She
glared at him. “Then whose choice was it? We stepped through the gateway, and suddenly
we are at the far end of the empire, in Trau, on your family’s land. How
convenient. When you made me a part of you, I experienced your emotions. I know
you desired to throw me over your shoulder and carry me off. Now you have, but
you’ll regret it. You—”

“I didn’t carry
you off,” he broke in, equally angry now. “You are wrong about everything.”

“Am I?”

“You witnessed my
talk with the Guardian. You heard.”

“Then explain this
trickery!”

“I can’t. I
thought we would come out on
Sidraigh-hal,
just as you did.”

“Then why are we
here?”

“I don’t know!” he
shouted. “In Gault’s name, I don’t know. Do you think I have forgotten your
obligations? Do you think I have ceased to care that the empire is under attack
by Tirhin’s new friends? I know how important it is to reach the main imperial
army and make certain of its loyalty.”

His fist crashed
against his breastplate. “Do I not still wear armor? Do I not still wear the
insignia of the Imperial Guard? Have I forsworn my oath of service?”

“You said you
would not serve me again.”

He saw tears
shimmering in her eyes, but her face was still angry, still doubtful. His own
temper, goaded now, would not be quelled by a few womanly tears.

“And now you think
the worst of me, that I am a barbarian and a liar.”

“I don’t know what
to think!” she burst out. “You change and shift, saying one thing, doing
another. You insisted I trust you, and now—”

“We escaped the
shadows. Isn’t that enough?”

“But look at where
we are! Why can’t you understand, Caelan, that I don’t want to be safe, kept
far away from the conflict? I want to keep my throne!”

Her words rang
loudly on the cold air. A strange expression crossed her face, and she fell
silent, pinching her mouth into a thin line as though her own admission had
frightened her.

His anger fell
away. “I know,” he said quietly. “I understand. But I swear to you I have not
betrayed you. I did not bring you here by design. If the Guardian looked into
my thoughts and sent me here to cause me more grief and heartache than before,
then it succeeded. Believe me, Majesty, this is the last place I would go.”

She stared at him.
“You are not happy to return to your home, to your family?”

He met her gaze
without flinching. “My family is dead,” he said flatly. “My home was burned to
the ground. I have been away six years. What is there to return to, but ghosts
and bad memories?”

With a frown, she
drew her cloak tighter around her, shivering and saying nothing.

Caelan returned
his gaze to the mountains and felt suddenly light-headed, as though the argument
had taken all the strength from him. Poor Elandra was frightened, lashing out
without thinking. He must reassure her instead of arguing with her. Just then,
however, he could find no words.

Gate of
Sorrows,
he thought. It was well named. And what of Elandra’s unholy
bargain that had freed them? It would seem she had sold her soul for this
trick. Small wonder she felt so angry.

“We had better
go,” he said to her. “There is not much daylight left.”

She did not turn
to face him. She did not answer.

“We cannot be
outside after dark. It is not safe.”

“What will hunt
us?” she asked. “Predators? What of them? You have fought off demons with your
powers.”

Stung by her
scorn, he said nothing.

She turned on him
so fast her cloak whirled around her. “It is said Traulanders are afraid of the
dark. You are all so big, so strong, and yet you turn into little children the
moment the sun goes down.”

“Trau is not
Imperia, or Gialta, Majesty,” he said. “Our nights hold things you do not want
to meet.”

“Can there be anything
worse than what I have already seen?”

Before he could
reply, she thrust out her arms as though to fend him off.

“Do not answer,”
she said. “Do not speak. I am sorry. My head is aching. I feel horrible, so
full of venom. It keeps spitting from me, and I do not intend it.”

His anger faded at
once. “Come,” he said simply.

She ran to his
arms, and he held her tightly, shielding her with his cloak.