Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [31]
He wore a sword that clanked at his side, but his most potent weapon was fear. He would use fear to grind her spirit into quivering pulp, as he would use his fists to grind her flesh and bones.
The fear that roiled off him in waves struck Mina, and she quailed and cowered beneath it. When she had faced the other death knight, Lord Soth, she had been armored with the power of the One God. She had carried in her hand the weapon of the One God. Soth had no power over her. He’d been buried beneath the rubble of his fortress.
Mina wore holy armor no longer. Chemosh had asked her to cast away her armor as a proof of her faith. She must face the formidable death knight in a rain-soaked shirt of wool that clung damply to her slender body, seeming to emphasize to her the fact that she was made of soft and quivering flesh and he was made of steel and death.
Fear paralyzed her. She could not move, but she hunkered down in the doorway, her stomach clenching, her leg muscles twitching in painful spasms. If Krell but turned his head, he would see her trembling in the doorway, craven as a gully dwarf. He would come raging at her and she would cower helplessly before him.
Mina shut her eyes, averted her gaze. The temptation to flee was overwhelming and she fought against it.
“I walked alone in the accursed valley of Neraka,” she said through gritted teeth. “I endured the trials of the Dark Queen. Takhisis held me in her arms, and her glory seared my flesh, yet now I tremble before this piece of excrement. Am I brave only when the god holds my hand? Is this the way to prove myself to Chemosh?”
Mina opened her eyes. She made herself look at Krell, stared at him hard. She stopped shivering. Her muscle spasms eased. She drew in a deep breath and another and relaxed.
Krell had not seen her or heard her. He walked straight ahead, cursing aloud at having lost his prey and swinging his fist in impotent rage. Whatever torment he had arranged for her, he was sorely disappointed at having missed his opportunity.
As he strode across the parade ground, his own torment beat and tore at him. The wind of the goddess’s rage buffeted him. He had difficulty walking against the furious wind, and he was strong and powerfully built. Black clouds boiled and fumed overhead. Lightning bolts struck at his feet, sending up chunks of rock and once knocking Krell to his knees. The almost constant boom of thunder shook the ground.
Staggering to his feet, Krell shook his fist at the heavens. He did not tempt the goddess further, however, but ran for the Tower of the Lily at a clumsy, armor-encumbered jog-trot.
Mina waited until he was halfway across the parade ground, then she followed him. She had hoped that the goddess might relent when she appeared, that the storm might abate for her. She was soon disabused of that notion. The moment she set foot on the parade ground, a gust of wind struck her, drove her to her hands and knees. Lancing rain pelted her with stinging, blinding force.
Zeboim was apparently not backing any favorites.
At least Krell was not inclined to stop in the midst of the cyclone to look behind to see if he was being followed. He was making for the Tower as fast as his lumbering stride could carry him.
Pushing to her feet, Mina battled her way through the storm in pursuit.
Krell was in a bad temper. The death knight was never in what one might call a good temper, but some days for Krell were better than others. Some days he was fortunate to have the living around to entertain him. Some days, if Zeboim was otherwise engaged, he could walk the parade ground and receive only a mild drenching. Today of all days, the Sea Witch must have planted herself directly overhead.
Fuming and dripping, Krell stalked into the library where he had everything set up in anticipation of his visitor, whose broken, bleeding body was now providing food for the sharks.