Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [271]
Floating in the white eternity, Raoden’s mind tried to discard the image of Aon Rao. It was something from a previous existence, unimportant and forgotten. He didn’t need it any longer. Yet, even as he strove to remove the image, another sprung up in its place.
Elantris. Four walls forming a square. The four outer cities surrounding it, their borders circles. A straight road leading from each city to Elantris.
Merciful Domi!
The soldiers opened several barrels of oil, and Lukel watched with revulsion as they began pouring them over the heap of bodies. Three shirtless warriors stood at the side, singing some sort of chant in a foreign language that sounded too harsh and unfamiliar to be Fjordell. We will be next, Lukel realized.
“Don’t look,” Lukel ordered his family, turning away as the soldiers prepared Elantris for immolation.
King Eventeo stood in the distance, a small honor guard surrounding him. He bowed his head as Dilaf approached. The monk smiled, preparing his knife. Eventeo though he was presenting his country for surrender—he didn’t realize that he was offering it up for a sacrifice.
Hrathen walked beside Dilaf, thinking about necessity and duty. Men would die, true, but their loss would not be meaningless. The entire Fjordell Empire would grow stronger for the victory over Teod. The hearts of men would increase in faith. It was the same thing Hrathen himself had done in Arelon. He had tried to convert the people for political reasons, using politics and popularity. He had bribed Telrii to convert, giving no heed to saving the man’s soul. It was the same thing. What was a nation of unbelievers when compared with all of Shu-Dereth?
Yet, even as he rationalized, his stomach grew sick.
I was sent to save these people, not to slaughter them!
Dilaf held Princess Sarene by the neck, her mouth gagged. Eventeo looked up and smiled reassuringly as they approached. He could not see the knife in Dilaf’s hand.
“I have waited for this,” Dilaf whispered softly. At first, Hrathen thought the priest referred to the destruction of Teod. But Dilaf wasn’t looking at the king. He was looking at Sarene, the blade of his knife pressed into her back.
“You, Princess, are a disease,” Dilaf whispered in Sarene’s ear, his voice barely audible to Hrathen. “Before you came to Kae, even the Arelenes hated Elantris. You are the reason they forgot that loathing. You associated with the unholy ones, and you even descended to their level. You are worse than they are—you are one who is not cursed, but seeks to be cursed. I considered killing your father first and making you watch, but now I realize it will be much worse the other way around. Think of old Eventeo watching you die, Princess. Ponder that image as I send you to Jaddeth’s eternal pits of torment.”
She was crying, the tears staining her gag.
Raoden struggled toward consciousness. The pain hit him like an enormous block of stone, halting his progress, his mind recoiling in agony. He threw himself against it, and the torment washed over him. He slowly forced his way through the resistant surface, coming to a laborious awareness of the world outside himself.
He wanted to scream, to scream over and over again. The pain was incredible. However, with the pain, he felt something else. His body. He was moving, being dragged along the ground. Images washed into his mind as sight returned. He was being pulled toward something round and blue.
The pool.
NO! he thought desperately. Not yet! I know the answer!
Raoden screamed suddenly, twitching. Galladon was so surprised that he dropped the body.
Raoden stumbled forward, trying to get his footing, and fell directly into the pool.
CHAPTER 61
Dilaf reached around the princess to press his dagger against her neck. Eventeo’s eyes opened wide with horror.
Hrathen watched the dagger begin to slice Sarene’s skin. He thought of Fjorden. He thought of the work he had done, the people he had saved. He thought of a young boy, eager to prove his faith by entering the priesthood. Unity.
“No!” Spinning, Hrathen drove his