Realm of Light (42 page)

When she was
finally able to drag her gaze away from the army, she looked up at the sky and
saw a wall of black cloud stretching across the horizon—something she hadn’t
seen since she left Imperia.

Fresh fear swept
through her. It suddenly seemed to her that this massive, silent force that had
come from nowhere was in fact the army of Beloth, risen at last from the realm of
shadow.

As she stared,
their crimson uniforms changed to vestments of black. She stared down at the
snorting, pawing horses and instead saw terrible steeds that snorted flame and
reeked of destruction.

“It has come,” she
whispered, her voice raw with panic. “It has come at last!”

She pushed herself
back from the balcony, her gaze still mesmerized by the vision. Her heart
thundered inside her. She felt dizzy and cold as though she might faint.

“Elandra!”
Caelan’s hands gripped her shoulders from behind. Spinning her around to face
him, he shook her until she regained her wits. Once again the soldiers looked
like ordinary soldiers, mortal men in crimson and steel.

She shivered and
pressed her face against Caelan’s chest. For a moment he held her tight, murmuring
reassurance into her hair, and she could pretend that all would yet be well,
that they still had a chance, that they could get away and find refuge
elsewhere.

But her fantasies
were in vain. If she ran away, she would not be able to live with herself. She
would carry with her the guilt and shame of her own cowardice. There could be
no refuge from that. If she ran away, the imperial army would label her father
a traitor and tear his palace down. He would die in disgrace, stripped of
everything because of her. Gialta itself would be plundered and burned, the
peasants dragged away into slavery, the land impounded under imperial
ownership.

How well she knew
the imperial wrath.

“Pier must have
known they were coming,” she said hollowly, shivering. “While Father lay
unconscious, Pier—”

“It doesn’t matter
now,” Caelan said. “They are here.”

“Is no one loyal
any more?” she asked. “Has all honor and courage vanished from the world?”

“Men are afraid,”
Caelan said. “Their minds are twisted and rendered confused by things that
should be simple and are not. The darkness comes. Look at the jungle, Elandra.
Look at the river.”

Only now did she
look past the army to see birds streaming out of the trees in huge flocks as
though driven. Monkeys on the move chattered, teeming in the trees. Animals,
even the large predator cats, fled to the river, swimming across to bound out
on the other side into the paddies and fields.

The jungle was one
of the most savage places she knew. The predators were fearless. Every creature
in it was a master of survival. But animals fled their natural habitat only in
times of great disaster, such as fire or annihilation.

She looked again
at the cloud, awed and afraid of the menace it represented. “Does it stretch
all the way from Imperia?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Caelan
lifted his head high, his eyes studying the cloud. “I feel its power. I hear
the whispers within it. The darkness comes, Elandra. It is engulfing the light
and all that lives in it. We are running out of time.”

She clutched at
his surcoat. “What are we to do?”

“Meet our
destiny,” he replied in a grim voice.

“To Imperia,
then?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “It is
the quickest way. All of this is centered there.”

“I must be their
prisoner, but you can evade the soldiers,” she said. “You must stay free.
Quick! Let me show you the hidden passages—”

“No.” Caelan gazed
down at her. His eyes were gentle upon her, loving her, already telling her
farewell.

She clutched him,
wanting to cry out. “You must not argue. You are the hope of—”

“I am to be
arrested,” he said. “I lingered behind you long enough to overhear some of the
terms. The Lord Commander is here on Tirhin’s direct orders. You are to be
escorted back to the capital in your full sovereignty, and I—”

“You’re his
scapegoat,” she finished, hating Tirhin to the depths of her soul. “That
pathetic coward!”

“He has
outmaneuvered us.”

“No!” she said
fiercely. “I won’t submit to him. I won’t! I don’t care what the Lord
Commander’s orders are, you will not go back to Imperia in chains. You must
escape.”

“I will not run
away.”

“Then fight—”

Caelan touched her
hair, stroking it. Resignation lay in his face. “And give them an excuse to
destroy your father? Why should I sacrifice a piece of myself to heal him, only
to bring about his execution now?”

She let out a sigh
then, struggling not to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I keep saying the wrong
things. I haven’t even thanked you properly for what you did before—”

“Hush,” he said
softly into her hair, resting his chin on top of her head.

She slapped tears
from her eyes, angry at herself for being so emotional. “I never used to cry
like this. I used to have control.”

“If you had no
fears now, I would not trust you,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Do you
still hate me?”

She shook her head
and hugged him tightly, trying to become part of him, unwilling to let him go.

Finally he pulled
away, loosening her fingers when she held onto him. “We must face this,” he
said. “We must be brave for the others’ sake.”

“I don’t want to
be brave!” she cried. “I don’t want to lose you!”

Voices carried
through the palace. Hearing them, she stiffened and tightened her grip on
Caelan. Everything was ending. She could not bear this.

“Oh, my love,” she
whispered brokenly, sobbing freely now. “I cannot give you up. I love you so
much—”

He kissed her,
deeply, possessively, until her thoughts were spinning and she was drowning in
the emotions he wrought in her.

“We are one,” he
said, cupping her chin between his hands. His eyes held hers, although her
tears caused her view of his face to blur. “We shall always be one. Believe
that, my dearest, no matter what befalls us.”

“Empress!” called
a voice from the room within.

Elandra turned
that way, then glanced over the railing of the balcony. They were trapped. She
still could not accept this defeat. Her heart raged at the injustice of it. She
did not know how Caelan could be so calm.

“Compose
yourself,” Caelan urged her softly. “Let them see an empress.”

“I am a woman,”
she protested, sniffing and trying to dry her eyes, “and I am losing all I hold
dear.”

“We are not
defeated yet,” Caelan said.

“And when I am
married at spear point to that traitor?” she retorted in fresh fury. “When I am
forced to his bed? Will you be so calm and able to speak of strategy and—”

“Majesty.” A
soldier appeared, one of her father’s men. “Compliments of Lord Albain, and
will you please go to your apartments? I am to escort you there personally.”

Elandra opened her
mouth, but Caelan took her hand.

“Come,” he said.
“I will walk with you there. Your father wants you to wait for them with
dignity.”

His voice and gaze
were filled with warning. Elandra did not want to go, but he was right. All
that she had left now was her pride, and if even it was failing her, then she
must pretend to have it.

Alti and Sumal were
waiting for her at her apartments, looking big-eyed and worried. Caelan opened
the door for her and led her inside.

“Make your
preparations,” he said. “Be ready for whatever comes.”

She felt her lips
tremble anew. “Can’t we—”

“Remember that I
love you. As long as the gods give me breath and the strength of my arm, I
swear I will not fail you.”

He kissed her,
grave and unhappy, and went out.

As the door shut
behind him, she buried her face in her hands. She wept long and bitterly,
feeling the sourness of defeat. Everything she had hoped for, everything she
had planned for, was ending. She could feel the hand of Fate on her, and she
hated it. What was the good of wearing a crown and having people call you
Majesty, if in the end you were only a pawn in a larger political game, to be
pushed here and pushed there? She would have been better off to have spent her
days still doing the mending and scrubbing floors.

A faint noise
brought her out of her misery. She looked up, frowning, and turned around.

She saw a large
sack of coarse homespun lying on the floor. Its bulging contents shifted and
moved. Another faint noise, almost like a whimper, came from within.

Elandra held her
breath a moment, then approached it cautiously. Drawing her knife, she wondered
if it was a trap placed here by her enemies. There had been attempts made on
her life before. This sack could hold anything from a bundle of cobras to a
demon.

But she
thought—she hoped—it held something else. She decided to take the chance.

With her knife,
she slashed across the sack, slitting the cloth, then jumped back.

Nothing happened
at first; then an eye peered cautiously out. She caught a glimpse of golden
skin and knew swift disappointment.

It wasn’t the
jinja
she’d hoped for.

She stepped back
and put away her knife, intending to call Alti to take it away.

But a small hand
reached through the slit and ripped it wider. A head emerged, swiveling around
to reveal a triangular face, dainty pointed teeth, large defiant eyes, and
pointed ears.

It was a
jinja,
after all, but she had never seen one that wasn’t green. This one climbed out
of the sack and crouched there, clearly wild and terrified. Its gaze darted in
all directions, and nothing reassured it.

There should have
been handlers. There should have been some preparations, a bit of initial
training to the creature to gentle it prior to the bonding. She did not know
where or how Alti had managed to get one captured from the wild on such short
notice, but he had.

Now that it was
out in the sunlight that streamed in through her windows, she could see that
its golden skin had a greenish undertone. It was much smaller than the usual
jinja,
not even reaching to her waist. She wondered if it was fully grown.

“Little one,” she
said softly, reaching out her hand.

The
jinja
panicked. Screaming, it zigzagged about the room, darting madly, knocking over
furniture and objects, leaping at the windows like something crazed, only to
fall back into the room as the screens held.

Panting, it lay on
the floor and moaned to itself.

Elandra dared not
approach it, fearing it would go into another frenzy and do itself serious
harm. Not knowing what else to do, she drew out her topaz and held it up so
that the light could shine on it.

“Jinja,”
she said softly, crooning to it, “golden like this jewel, golden in my chosen
colors. Good
jinja,
rare and valued
jinja,
brought to me as an
omen in this day of trial and sore need.”

The creature rose
up on its haunches, its gaze fastened on the jewel, which had begun to shine.
The topaz seemed to gentle it, mesmerize it, exactly as it had done to the
dragon.

“I will not hurt
you,” Elandra said to the creature. “I will keep you fed. I will give you
pretty things. You will sense the magic for me. You will keep it from doing me
harm.”

The
jinja
swayed, its large eyes glowing. It reached out one hand. “Give rock.”

“The topaz is
mine,” Elandra said with gentle firmness. “And you will be mine. My possessions
are together, close, but I am mistress of them. Come and bond with me, pretty
jinja.”

She put away the
topaz, and the
jinja
hissed in disappointment. Angrily it bounded away.
Elandra sighed and settled herself in a chair, forcing herself to pretend
patience she did not feel.

Finally, after
tearing apart a pillow and scattering the stuffing everywhere, it came back to
her and crouched just out of reach.

It stared at her
long and hard. She stared back. She could feel magic crawling about the room,
but whether it came from the
jinja
or from another source she did not
know.

“Hurt me,” the
jinja
said, eyes flashing.

“The trapper? I am
sorry. You have been frightened too. You are far from your jungle temple and
the caves which should have kept you safe.”

The
jinja
drew back and rocked itself, looking awed.

“Yes, I know of
your home,” Elandra said. “I am very great among the humans. I have much
consequence. You will have consequence too. Everyone will see how pretty you
are, because you are mine. Will you bond with me?”

“Bonding mean
serve.”

“Yes.”

“Trapper make do.
Trapper hurt.”

“If you will not
bond, I will not force you,” Elandra promised. “If you will riot bond, I will
have you released back into the jungle.”

“No!” the
jinja
said in alarm. “Not safe. Danger!”

Elandra thought of
the fleeing animals and birds. “Are you safer with me?” she asked, and again held
out her hand.

The
jinja
tilted its head to one side and studied her a long time. Then it glided closer,
its tiny feet not even touching the ground.

“You bond with
wild
jinja
? No tame. No sorcerer touch.”

“I need help,”
Elandra said. “I need a good
jinja
to serve me and protect me.”

The creature bared
its pointed teeth conceitedly. “I best
jinja.
Best!”

“Then we are
together?” Elandra asked it.

The creature took
her hand and lifted her fingers to its face. It began to hum, a sweet eerie
sound that vibrated through Elandra’s bones. She shut her eyes, trying not to
fear the sound. A peculiar feeling washed in and out of her, and the humming
stopped.