Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [12]
“Not against barbarians of our world,” he replied. “Go.”
It was as though he gave her permission.
“And what of you?” she asked worriedly. “Will you also take this journey?”
He shook his head. “I will hold them as long as I can—”
“Don’t be a fool!” she interrupted angrily. “Your death will not serve me.”
“He fears to walk the hidden ways, Majesty,” Lord Sien said, mocking them even as he remained too much a coward to face them physically again. “Yes, even a warrior like him comes eventually to his own limit. Call it cowardice if you wish, but he will not take the path to safety. He will not pay. its price.”
“What price?” she asked in alarm. “What do you mean?”
Caelan’s gaze shifted to watch the Madruns, who were entering the large cavern cautiously, almost fearfully. A crease appeared between his brows, but he remained aloof, as though nothing could touch him, as though he were encased in ice, without feelings. Yet she knew he was capable of feeling deeply, beneath his icy surface.
“What price?” she asked again. “What lies waiting in there?”
“Only the mysteries,” Lord Sien replied. “Will you take the cup? I can guarantee your safety no other way.”
The unnamed priest held up the goblet to her again.
“I do not trust you,” she said. “I will stay here, and take my chances with the kind of danger I understand.”
Sien’s voice made no reply, but it was Caelan who turned on her.
“Don’t be foolish!” he said angrily, surprising her. “You are needed elsewhere.”
“I will stay.” With you, she wanted to say but did not quite dare.
He glared up at her. “Then you make worthless everything that was done tonight! Every man’s death was for nothing—”
“I will go if you go!” she shouted back, equally angry. “Otherwise I will not.”
“You—”
“Did you not rebuke the emperor’s men for refusing to serve me?” she said over his words. “Did you not take the same oaths as they?”
Caelan’s face darkened. He met her eyes furiously. He said nothing.
She met him look for look, afraid and stubborn. “Unless you hold the bridle of my horse and enter that darkness with me, I will not go.”
“You put all of us in danger!” the priest suddenly said. “Beloth’s curses on both of you. I will not wait here to be torn to bits.”
As he spoke, a war cry rose from the Madruns.
It chilled Elandra’s blood. She looked and saw them coming now, as though they had finally seen their quarry. Pointing and brandishing their war clubs, they came at a run.
Elandra’s heart filled her mouth, and her hands tightened involuntarily on the reins, making her horse back up. All her courage drained away. She did not think she could carry out her bluff with Caelan, and she was ashamed of herself, bitterly ashamed.
But just before she whirled her horse to bolt through the portal, Caelan gave her a curt nod.
“As you wish,” he said ungraciously.
“The cup,” the priest said quickly. He held up the goblet. “They will be on us in a moment. Drink it now.”
Frowning, feeling as though she were surrendering her soul, Elandra took the goblet. The gleam of triumph in the priest’s eyes frightened her anew. She took a tiny sip, and instantly her mouth was on fire. Choking, she thrust the cup away, almost dropping it so that part of its contents splashed over the side.
Her mouth was on fire, but in its wake came a strange numbness that crept through her face, then down her throat and into her limbs. She found that everything looked strangely crooked and out of perspective. The portal seemed very far away, yet she was already riding through it. Her hair brushed the top of the opening, and she ducked just in time. She entered a darkness as cold and as encompassing as the grave.
Caelan shook his head when the priest offered him the cup. With a curse, the priest fled through the portal ahead of them.
Elandra’s hands rested on the neck of her horse, slackly holding the reins. She listened to the strange and steady boom-boom-boom of her heartbeat.
I am going to the dark god, she thought to herself and was horribly