Bloodwalk - James P. Davis [133]
The hum reached a powerful crescendo, shaking the walls. Fractures appeared all over the chamber on Morgynn's side of the barrier as the thin lines of light flashed and raced toward the warded wall of energy. The crimson bolts slammed into the barrier, crackling and straining against its resisting power. Morgynn stood back and watched as the oracles fought against the spell's intrusion. She took care to note the patterns of the wards where they grew the brightest, memorizing the places of strength and contemplating how to weaken them.
Her mind drifted as she watched. Part of her imagined taking apart the temple's magic, while the rest of her imagined conquest beyond this simple town and its troublesome soothsayers. She envisioned her Order of Twilight crawling across Shandolphyn's Reach, her plague directed against Derlusk. She saw the Gargauthans inserting themselves in the port city, making way for her rule over the vast libraries within. Trade ships would become her secret armada, sailing the Lake of Steam to the cities along its coast, bringing them plague and inner turmoil, ripening them for her arrival.
Innarlith would be last, she decided. Ransar Pristoleph must know of her return long before her ships turn on his rule.
Idle thoughts faded as her spell died, having served its purpose, leaving the sanctuary in silence once more. She knew that nothing could be gained by wasting her magic on the oracles' defenses. Those weaknesses she might have exploited were defended by strengths other than the pattern of woven runes. Briefly, she wondered if her coming had been foreseen when those runes were crafted. She smiled at the thought as she stared at the layer of fine dust on the floor and the weblike cracks through the walls.
"I am impressed, ladies," she said suddenly, startling those whose ears still rung from the noise of the spell. "Though I trust none of you had a hand in their creation, the defenses here are quite astounding…"
She knelt and scooped up a handful of dust from the floor, letting it sift through her fingers before continuing.
"… if not for one minor flaw. This would be Rift marble, I assume? I've read about this, very strong and…" she looked up to the ceiling knowingly,"… heavy. It has traveled many miles to this place. Such a distance to serve as your tomb. You may keep your barriers and wards. Hold them as long as you are able. When I bring this temple down about your heads, your wall will be your only protection against being crushed."
Turning to carry out her threat, Morgynn caught the sharp scent of moisture and blood on a chill breeze across her back. Facing the doorway, she glared at the figure that stood there, silhouetted in flashing lightning from the windowed corridors beyond. The scars across her body itched as she tensed. Several vile spells came to mind as her blooded eyes met his opalescent gaze.
He smiled grimly and broke the silence between them.
"Funny things, prophecies," he said sardonically. "Sometimes they even come true."
* * * * *
"I remember this," Dreslya spoke under her breath, careful not to disturb the Ghedia's chant as they sheltered in the stone hut.
They sat within the confines of a rough circle of grass blades, in the dark, only dimly aware of the battle and storm so dangerously close. Dres felt weak, lending her strength to Lesani, whose casting had seemed to go on for days. Time was lost to her, but Lesani's voice made time, bringing images to her mind of a savage era. The rolling grasslands of the Shaar stretched out beneath her as she drifted with the chant. The smell of dry grass under a hot sun produced a primal awareness in her, a desire to hunt and ride free, to give thanks to the land as it gave her what she needed. And in her dreaming eye was the magic.
Pressed into the grass, overlaid with twigs forming symbols of the Dethek runes, was the most basic element of the Ghedia way: the circle.
Within the circle sat a hooded figure, chanting in Lesani's