Realm of Light (21 page)

“But what is it
for?” Caelan asked, ready to veer onto any topic as long as it was not
confronting Beloth. “What does it do?”

“It has given you
hope,” Moah said, tilting his head to one side. “Is that not enough?”

“But—”

“It is time for us
to take the stone and work with it on your behalf. Will you allow that?”

“Yes,” Caelan
said, not sure what the Choven was talking about.

“Then there is no
more to say. You have taken learning from me. This time is finished, and we
must return.”

Caelan looked at
him in alarm. He had more questions, specifically regarding Elandra. “Wait!
There is the empress and—”

Again he felt the
sensation of exploding into glittering bits of light, spiraling down from that
lofty center of calm tranquility, returning unwillingly back to the chaos of
problems, doubts, and trouble.

With a jolt, he
opened his eyes. He expected to find himself back in the Choven camp with Lea
bending over him. There would be another chance to talk to Moah and ask him for
help.

Instead, he found
himself in the forest, standing in the gully near the ice cave where he had
left Elandra. He was clothed again. Exoner hung heavy in its scabbard at his
hip. His dagger was tucked in its belt sheath. But for the sword, he might
never have believed any of it had happened. Even now, he couldn’t be sure.

The conversation
with Moah seemed a long time ago and very far away. But his destiny was drawing
closer with every passing moment.

Elandra awakened
in a strange place. Not certain whether she was dreaming or having a vision,
she sat up and found herself in a tiny cave. A circle of black ashes showed her
where a fire had once been lit, but had long lain cold. Sunlight shone in from
the cave’s narrow mouth, providing faint illumination.

Following it
outside, she stood in the bottom of a narrow gully next to a frozen stream.
Drifts of snow spilled down the banks, looking white and soft. The air smelled
of clean, pungent scents unknown to her. She thought of Gialta with its steamy
jungles and heavy fragrances of rot, damp, and exotic flowers. Trau was so
different, so cold and austere.

She walked out
farther from the cave, her feet unsteady and slow. The clearing beyond the
gully lay empty. She heard no sound other than the soft swaying of the trees.
Loneliness filled her, and she wondered where Caelan had gone.

Uneasy, Elandra
gazed about a moment, then picked up her long skirts to jump the stream. As she
leaped, the world seemed to fold itself in half, taking her with it.

Crying out, she
fell sprawling and expected to land in the water. Instead, the stream had
vanished entirely.

With it were gone
the gully, the cave, the trees, and the snow. In their stead stretched a
desolate plain of barren soil and rocky outcroppings. A rough wind blew
steadily, whistling in her ears and whipping her long hair into her face.
Elandra climbed again to her feet and looked around in wonder and rising fear.

In every direction
she saw only bleak emptiness. No plants, no insects, no life. She was swept by
a feeling of terrible loneliness, as though she were the last person in the
world who remained alive.

“Welcome to the
future,” said a voice from behind her.

Startled, Elandra
whirled around and found herself face to face with Hecati, the malevolent woman
who had raised her in her father’s household and made her early life such a
misery.

At first Elandra
could only stare, stunned by the sight of an enemy she’d never expected to see
again. Hecati’s face had grown more sour and wrinkled than ever. She wore a
black wimple that blew in the wind. Her eyes burned into Elandra’s with
contempt and hatred.

Elandra felt as
though all her courage had been knocked from her in one sharp blow. She felt
twelve years old again, skinny and unprotected, about to be punished by Hecati
and her willow switches.

Dry-mouthed, she
blinked hard, but Hecati did not vanish. “Hecati,” she said at last, managing
to stammer out the woman’s name.

“Elandra,” Hecati
replied, her voice thick with sugary sweetness. “My, how changed you are from
when I saw you last. You overcame my parting gift. How clever of you.”

Elandra felt cold
inside. Hecati had blinded her on the steps to the Penestrican stronghold
before the sisters could intervene. Elandra had spent weeks without her sight,
a harrowing experience she would never forget.

Anger mingled with
her fear, warming her, strengthening her. She lifted her chin, refusing to let
Hecati think she could still be intimidated.

“Yes, I can see
again,” she replied coolly, giving thanks now for the long lessons in
deportment and palace protocol. She was no longer the ragged, illegitimate
daughter of a busy provincial household, tyrannized and abused. She was an
empress, and she would act like one.

Her gaze met
Hecati’s, betraying none of her inner fear. “The Penestricans restored my
sight.”

“Yes, and now you
are their puppet.”

Elandra’s delicate
nostrils flared. “You will address me as your Majesty.”

Hecati’s eyes
narrowed, and a light flush appeared on her face. “Fool!” she said. “You dare
rebuke one of Mael’s chosen? I can char you to ashes where you stand!”

Elandra’s topaz
was glowing warm and hidden within the curl of her fist. She tried to draw
strength and reassurance from it, although her heart continued to pound.

“If that were
true, you would have done it already,” Elandra said with defiance. “Why have
you brought me to this place? What do you want?”

“This is the
future! Look at it,” Hecati commanded maliciously, spreading her hands wide.

Elandra kept her
gaze on the witch’s face, refusing to look at the blighted landscape. “What do
you want?”

“I want to see
your fear.” Scooping up a handful of soil, Hecati hurled it at Elandra’s
skirts. “You are empress of a dead land.”

“You say it is the
future,” Elandra said. “But because it does not yet exist, the future can
change an infinite number of times. That means there is hope of an
alternative.”

Hecati glared at
her, looking displeased. “Someone has taught you philosophy and logic,” she
said at last in grudging acknowledgement.

Elandra smiled.

The sudden smell
of something burning was the only warning Elandra had before Hecati threw what
looked like a black ball at her. As it came through the air, it uncoiled into
the long, slender form of a serpent.

There was no time
to think. Elandra lifted her hand instinctively, and the light emanating from
her topaz shone upon the serpent.

Just before the
serpent struck her, it exploded into ashes that blew away in the harsh wind.

Hecati screamed as
though hurt, but only fury showed in her withered face. She lifted her hands,
curling them into claws. “Damn you!” she cried. “You witless bastard, who gave
you a Jewel of Sovereignty?”

Elandra had no
intention of telling her the truth. Defiantly she faced the witch. “Am I not
the empress sovereign? Do I not share my husband’s reign?”

“You are nothing!”
Hecati shouted. “You have an unconsummated marriage. You love a slave of such
low lineage he cannot even be found in our auspices. You are a penniless exile
from your own palace. And you carry the poison of darkness in your veins, which
will soon render you one of the living dead. Oh, yes, Elandra the Illegitimate,
hold yourself high with pride. But what does so much pride avail you? You are
nothing!”

Tears sprang to
Elandra’s eyes, and it was all she could do to hold them in check. Even now,
Hecati’s sharp tongue could still leave wounds. She had the unerring ability to
find every vulnerability, and stab deeper into it.

But Elandra was
not the girl she had once been. No matter what her emotions, she would not
bend. “What do you want from me?” she repeated quietly. “Why did you bring me
here for this meeting?”

Hecati stepped
forward, and it was all Elandra could do not to flinch back.

“I have brought
you here to strike a bargain.”

Elandra frowned,
suspecting a trick. “What kind of bargain? I have nothing you could want.”

“Are you
interested in survival?” Hecati asked. “Are you interested in being cured of
the poison in you?”

Elandra drew in a
startled breath and turned her back on the witch. Inside, she was a seething
mass of horror and temptation. How did Hecati know so much? Terrified, Elandra
clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid of what she might say.

“What do you know
of the living dead?” Hecati asked in a quiet, almost conversational voice.
“Most people cannot detect them, except by their yellow eyes. They act much the
same as when they were alive, but their souls belong to Beloth—”

“No!”

“Yes, Beloth,”
Hecati said, her sugary voice in horrible contrast to the nightmare of her
words. “And they must obey the commands of the dark god. Even if it is to tear
out the beating heart of their own child, they have to obey. Their blood turns
black, and eventually they are eaten from within by the demons they carry. It
is a terrible fate. What a pity. You are doomed, unless I help you.”

Elandra closed her
eyes, trying to shut out Hecati’s voice. But her words echoed and reechoed in
Elandra’s mind. No matter how much she distrusted the woman, Elandra knew this
time Hecati was telling the truth.

“What do you
want?” she asked a third time.

Hecati chuckled
triumphantly. “Your allegiance to Mael.”

Elandra blinked
and turned around, staring. This was insane. “You would save me from becoming
Beloth’s minion, but in exchange I must belong to—to Mael instead?”

She could barely
say their dire names. To speak them at all was to utter blasphemy. She half
expected to be incinerated on the spot.

Hecati looked
impatient. “Yes.”

“But there is no
difference!”

“There is a great
deal of difference.” Hecati stepped forward, but this time Elandra backed away.

“Listen to me,”
Hecati said. “You would not be mindless, soulless. You would be an ally, not a
puppet.”

Elandra released
her breath, trying to keep her wits about her. “I don’t—”

“Hear me. You are
empress sovereign. Your position is second only to Kostimon’s, but in reality
you have no power at all.”

“The warlords gave
me their oaths of fealty.”

“That means
nothing, girl! Nothing! If you do not realize that, then you are naive as well
as a fool.”

Elandra tightened
her lips and said nothing.

“The warlords will
turn to anyone but you. Do you expect them to take up arms in support of a
woman?”

“They vowed they
would.”

Hecati snarled an
oath. “Why can you not understand—”

“I understand
perfectly,” Elandra broke in coolly. “You need not explain politics to me.”

“Mael will give
you an army—”

“I thought the
goddess of shadows intended only to release me from the effects of the poison.”

“Your rewards can
be multiplied. You are more useful to us in a position of power.”

“What kind of
allegiance would I be expected to give?”

Elandra asked. Her
hands were shaking at her sides, and she thrust them behind her to hide them.

“Building temples
to the goddess for a start. Allowing her to be worshiped without hindrance.
Showing public example.”

This time Elandra
couldn’t conceal her horrified revulsion. “Such actions would help release the
goddess from bondage.”

“Of course! You
will weaken her chains, just as Kostimon has done much over the centuries to
free Beloth.”

“No.”

“Don’t be stupid.
You have no choice in the matter. Don’t worry, girl. It is not too difficult to
learn the proper rituals. I shall give you guidance, help you reach decisions,
and make policy. I was prepared to do this for Bixia. Now I shall assist you.”

“I refuse.”

Hecati looked at
her in astonishment. “Nonsense! You cannot.”

“I can, and I
will. My answer is no.”

“Fool!” Again
Hecati hurled something at her, and again Elandra raised the topaz in time to
deflect it. No serpent this time, but a spear with a wickedly barbed point. It
landed harmlessly at Elandra’s feet, and Hecati swore words that burned and
smoked visibly in the air.

Elandra cringed
back, afraid to hear such words. There had to be a way out of this place. Even
if she ran and was forever lost in this wasteland, it would be better than
facing Hecati.

“Do not run,”
Hecati said sharply before she could move. “You coward, stand fast and listen
to me. There is little time left to you. Do you understand that you will die
without my help?”

“Better to die
than be damned,” Elandra retorted.

“Bah! You are
already damned, you fool! Your enemies are powerful, but you could have
unlimited resources if you would just agree—”

“No!” Elandra
shouted in panic, backing away. “No, I will not agree. I will not!”

“Wait!” Hecati
called, but Elandra turned and ran for her life, choosing no direction, just
running as fast as her legs would carry her across the barren, stony ground.

With Hecati’s
furious cries behind her, Elandra scrambled up a low, rocky ridge with the wind
tearing at her hair and clothing, glanced back, then stumbled down the other side.
Halfway down she lost her balance on the loose shale and went sliding and
tumbling.

She landed at the
bottom in a cloud of dust—bruised, scraped, and winded. Wearily she lay there a
moment, tense and listening, but she could no longer hear Hecati calling her
name.

Instead, she heard
a peculiar sound—something between a whistle and a roar.

Climbing to her
feet, Elandra turned around and saw an enormous, whirling cloud crossing the
desert toward her. Dust and debris swirled around it, constantly being drawn up
into its core. It moved parallel to the base of the ridge, and it was coming
incredibly fast.