Realm of Light (22 page)

For a second
Elandra could only stare. She had never seen such a cloud before. As it roared
closer, it seemed to fill the very sky. Only then did she realize how immense
it was, how powerful.

It could suck her
up inside itself and shred her to pieces. Had Hecati released
this
against her?

Horrified, she
picked up her skirts and ran.

Sucking up dust
and stones and spewing them high, the cloud veered after her as though in
pursuit. Elandra screamed, and ran faster, to no avail.

It was gaining on
her. She darted in a different direction, but the cloud followed her. Feeling
its tug, Elandra stumbled and fell to her knees.

Desperately she
tried to claw her way upright, but the wind toppled her off balance. Her hair
streamed up into the air, and her clothes plastered themselves against her
body.

Breathing hard,
her throat uttering a mindless noise of terror, Elandra saw objects swirling
within the cloud—weapons, horses, pieces of armor, helmets, and men themselves.
Their clothing was strangely old-fashioned, and many of the objects were
peculiar and old, like the ancestral belongings of previous generations that
her father had preserved for the family. It was like watching history winding
itself around a giant spindle.

Black, angry
clouds massed overhead in the sky. Lightning suddenly flashed, and a second
later the crashing boom of thunder made her duck with her hands over her ears.
She was blown flat to the ground, and rain pelted her, soaking her to the skin
in moments.

The force of the
winds ripped at her clothing and slewed her around bodily. She felt herself
lifting into the air and screamed again, her fingers clawing at the muddy
earth.

“Goddess mother,
protect me!” she screamed aloud.

The cloud roared
past her, pelting her with rain and dislodged stones, throwing mud over her,
deafening her, and pummeling her. But it did not suck her up into itself after
all. Moments later, it was gone.

Shaken and
battered, Elandra lifted herself slowly and stared after it. The swirling cloud
left the ground, rising into the sky like a rope, and now its immense force
seemed to be unraveling. Elandra saw men, horses, pieces of buildings, stools,
chests, and weapons raining from the sky, scattering across the blighted plain.

As these objects
hit the ground, they exploded into dust and were melted into nothing by the
rain.

More lightning
raked the sky, cracking and booming loud enough to make Elandra clap her hands
over her ears. The air reeked of fire and magic. Then abruptly the black clouds
vanished. The rain ended as swiftly as it had come, and the roaring monster
dissipated.

Breathing hard,
Elandra tried to collect her wits. Pushing her muddy hair out of her face, she
closed her eyes and said a quick prayer of gratitude to the goddess mother. She
still held a handful of mud. Now she allowed it to spill from her fingers.

There had to be a
way to escape this terrible place. She knew of only one thing to try.

Pulling out her
topaz, she cupped the golden stone in her palms and stared into its depths. She
tried to put aside her fear, tried to clear her mind of everything except the
face of the Magria. Closing her eyes, she reached out in the way the
Penestricans had taught her.

“Magria,” she
called, “I need your help. You came to me before when I was in great
difficulty. Again, I call to you. Please, help me.”

No voice spoke a
response to her mind.

Elandra opened her
eyes and saw nothing but bleak desolation in every direction. Just as it had
been before.

Her spirits sank
within her.

But she refused to
believe that Hecati was her only hope. There had to be some way to escape.

Wearily Elandra
climbed to her feet and told herself she must try something else.

“I am here,
Elandra,” a voice said to her.

It was a clear
voice, a familiar one.

Startled, Elandra
spun around and found a slender young woman with long, very straight golden
hair standing less than five strides from her. Robed in black, her pale arms
bare, her blue eyes direct and intense, she was a welcome sight indeed.

Relief flooded
Elandra. She smiled and barely kept herself from hugging the Penestrican.
“Deputy Anas,” she said, “how glad I am to see you!”

The Penestrican
did not return her smile. “I am deputy no longer.” Lifting her left hand, she
tossed a slim serpent onto the ground between them. It immediately began to
slither toward Elandra’s feet. “Don’t move,” she said sharply as Elandra
gasped. “There is nothing to fear if you are who you claim to be.”

Elandra
immediately froze in place, but memories of other tests—some of them quite
painful—made her frown. “You know who I am, Anas. Why do you test me?”

“If you are the
empress, you should not be here,” Anas said in a blunt voice. “You have no
means of coming to this future.”

“I was brought
here.”

The snake had
almost reached the frayed toe of her slipper. Elandra forgot the rest of what
she’d been about to say and stood tense and wary as she watched the serpent’s
tongue flicker rapidly. The snake had the wedge-shaped head of a viper; she
believed that Anas could command it to strike with venom if she chose. The
Magria, always more gentle than her deputy, would not have brought a poisonous
snake for this test of truth. The Magria would have been more compassionate.

Elandra found it
difficult to swallow. When Anas did not respond to her last statement, she
glanced up and met the cold appraisal in those blue eyes.

“I was brought
here,” Elandra repeated. “Against my will. I can tell you by whom and for what
purpose.”

“Silence,” Anas
snapped. “Do not disturb the serpent of truth.”

Before Elandra
could protest, the serpent slithered away from her.

“Very well,” Anas
said. “The truth has been spoken.”

A surge of heat
filled Elandra’s face.

“How dare you
doubt me!” she shouted furiously. “I am not to be tested like one of your
novices! You do not command me, Anas!”

Anas’s blue eyes
blazed back at her. “I am the Magria now,” she snapped. “Take care.”

For a fleeting
second Elandra was appalled. “You are the Magria?” she said, heedless of the
dismay her voice betrayed. “But she dismissed you from the succession.”

Resentment
flickered in Anas’s blue eyes and was gone. “The former Magria relented,” she
said.

“Oh.” Elandra
frowned, trying to absorb this news. “I had not heard that her Excellency had
stepped down. When did she—”

“The former Magria
is dead,” Anas said, every word tight and hostile.

Genuine dismay
flashed through Elandra. “Oh, I am sorry!” she said. She had liked the old
woman, formidable though she had been. Elandra had suspected that possibly the
Magria had liked her. But she and Anas had never found any common ground.

Even now Anas
still stared at her coldly, unappeased by her sympathy.

Frowning, Elandra
tried again. “This is disturbing news. I respected her very much.”

Stiffly Anas
inclined her head. “She was worthy of much respect. She has returned to the
dust whence she was made.”

Elandra made a
formal gesture, feeling as though she had lost her last ally. Still, Anas had
come in response to her cry for help. She must remember to be grateful for
that.

“Please,” Elandra
began. “I must ask—”

“Silence,” Anas
said sharply. She bent and picked up her serpent from the ground. The creature
coiled itself around her wrist, and Anas shot Elandra a look of suspicion.
“Something is wrong. You are the empress, but you smell of death and shadow.”

An involuntary sob
escaped Elandra before she could control herself. She pressed her hand to her
lips, struggling not to hurl herself at Anas’s feet. “The Guardian said I would
have to pay a terrible price if he let us leave the realm of shadow. And now—”

“Wait!” Anas
commanded, extending her other hand. “Speak slowly. You have been in the realm
of shadow? You have confronted the Guardian?”

Elandra nodded.
“It was a trick. We were supposed to follow Kostimon through the hidden ways—”

“Ah!” Anas said.
“So that is how he escaped from the palace. Kostimon’s blasphemy never
stopped.”

“Caelan got us to
the Gate of Sorrows, and then the Guardian ... I was bitten,” Elandra said, her
fear spilling from her despite her attempts to stay coherent. “I have the
darkness. I am going to die.”

A strange
expression crossed Anas’s face. She stepped closer to Elandra. “Repeat your
words,” she said, sounding almost afraid. “What bit you? Did the Guardian send
you here?”

Elandra shook her
head. “We were in Trau—”

“This is Trau. As
it can become.”

Elandra glanced
around in fresh horror. “But—”

“Never mind. Tell
me what happened.”

“A
shyriea
came out of nowhere. Before Caelan could kill it, it bit me. That is why the
witch Hecati brought me here. She offered to take the poison from me if I—”

Elandra found her
voice breaking. Her fear twisted harder inside her, and she could not finish.

“Look at me,” Anas
said.

Elandra’s eyes
were burning. She was on the verge of tears, and she fought them, not wanting
to break down in front of Anas.

“Kill me,” she
pleaded. “I would rather pass to the dust than become the living dead.”

Anas gripped her
shoulder. “Look at me,” she commanded again.

Elandra dashed
tears from her eyes, and lifted her gaze obediently. She found neither pity nor
condemnation in Anas’s eyes, but instead only concern and brisk competence.

“Put aside your
fear,” Anas said with unexpected gentleness. “Can you look past our personal
differences and trust me?”

Elandra could only
stare at her in astonishment at first, then in rising hope. “Can you help me?”

“If you will trust
me.”

Elandra thought of
Caelan, who had held her tightly in the realm of shadows and asked her the same
question. How frightened she had been of him then, and yet a part of her knew
he would never willingly hurt her. Now she gazed into Anas’s blue eyes and knew
this woman was made of the same fiber as the old Magria.

Something in
Elandra relaxed and reached out. “I do trust you,” she whispered, daring to
hope. “If you will help me, what must I offer?”

“Silence!” Anas
snapped. “Compassion is not for sale.”

Intense relief
flooded through Elandra. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over. “Thank
you!”

“Don’t thank me
yet. Nothing has been accomplished. You will gaze into my eyes, Majesty. You
will look into the depths of my eyes and nowhere else. You must not blink. You
must not move. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Elandra
said breathlessly.

“You will empty
your mind in the way you were taught. When it is empty of all thought, I will
enter. In your time at our stronghold you resisted this. Now it could mean your
life. Can you do it?”

Elandra thought of
Caelan, how he had shared with her, how they had become one spirit, one mind.
She had resisted him also, but he had shown her there was no loss in such a
union, only much to gain.

She drew a deep
breath and met Anas’s gaze. “I will do it,” she replied.

Anas nodded, and
concentration tightened her face. “Begin.”

At first it was
difficult to focus. Elandra’s mind was jumping from one thought to another,
refusing to settle, refusing to obey. She held her gaze steadily on Anas’s,
thinking of their blue depths as blue topazes, not so very different from her
golden one. Anas would help her. All she had to do was try ... and trust.

Gradually her
thumping heart slowed down. She remembered to regulate her breathing. She
remembered not to blink. She found herself drawn into Anas’s blue eyes. How
clear they were, how compelling and intelligent. They were such a different
shade of blue from Caelan’s, flecked with gray and green in the depths.
Compassion and kindness lay in their depths, swirling with the colors, reaching
out for Elandra so that no longer was she alone, no longer was she aware of the
howling wind, no longer was she aware of the ugly, seared landscape of what
might be.

Elandra dropped
into a clear, empty place, and Anas slipped into her mind as gently as the warm
splash of a summer raindrop. Almost at once she was gone, as though she had
never been there.

Disappointment
filled Elandra, shattering her concentration. She drew back physically,
blinking hard to hold her composure. “You couldn’t help me,” she said, feeling
hope crash from her.

“I—”

“Hush,” Anas said,
drawing Elandra into her arms and hugging her tightly. She stroked Elandra’s
hair as Elandra wept, unable to be strong now. “Hush. Don’t talk. Let the tears
cleanse you.”

But after a few
wracking sobs, Elandra’s fear choked off her emotions, and her tears stopped.
She clung to Anas a moment, grateful for her kindness, then pushed herself
away.

Bleakly she tried
to remember she was the daughter of a warrior. Warriors did not cry. They did
not dishonor themselves with cowardice. They faced what had to be done, and
they did so quickly.

“I have no
dagger,” she said, fighting the unsteadiness in her voice. “Have you? A knife
thrust is the quickest way to end—”

“Will you kill
yourself now that you are cleansed?” Anas asked in amazement.

At first Elandra
did not believe she had heard correctly. Then she lifted her gaze to Anas.

The Magria gave
her a fleeting smile. “It is done.”

Elandra couldn’t
believe it. “But how? You were so quick, I didn’t think it—How?”

“That is why I am
a Magria and you are not,” Anas replied, but for once her arrogance did not
offend Elandra. She pointed at the ground, where a small black puddle smoked
ominously. “It can harm nothing here. But let us not linger in this place, for
it can draw things to it that we would rather not meet.”