Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [17]
The pain grew more intense, stabbing and hot, until his face dripped with sweat and he thought he must scream from it. Then it ebbed enough for him to catch his breath. He opened his eyes. As his senses came back to him, he realized the pain was focusing itself now into one central spot just below his throat.
The emerald . . .
He loosened the thong holding his amulet bag and pulled it over his head in a swift yank. Then, with fumbling, unsteady fingers, he opened the bag and poured out his talisman. Originally there had been two emeralds, one thumb-sized, the other smaller. They had been given to him by his younger sister Lea shortly before he had been captured by Thyzarene raiders, never to see her again. Later, on the hillside of Sidraigh-hal, the two emeralds had fused together into a single, irregular-shaped stone, somehow becoming larger in the process.
Now, the lumpy gem was glowing here in the darkness, as though possessing a life of its own. And as soon as he dumped it on the ground, it grew again, swelling into a fist-sized gem that flared angrily with radiant, pale green light.
The pain in his chest faded swiftly. Limp with relief, Caelan pressed his palm against the spot and drew in deeper and deeper breaths. He felt clammy now in the cold air blowing through the passageway. His sweat was drying on his skin; his clothing stuck unpleasantly to him beneath his armor. Wiping his face with a corner of his tattered cloak, he thought he heard a footstep in the distance.
His head snapped up. “Elandra?”
She did not reply, and he knew even as he uttered her name that the sound had come from behind him. Elandra was ahead of him, lost already in the darkness beyond the dim light cast by his emerald. It v/as as though the shadow forces were separating them, one by one, from each other. Divide and conquer. Isolate and kill.
The soft scraping sound came again, furtive and quick. Hair prickled on the back of Caelan’s neck. He pushed himself to his feet, drawing his sword, and gazed behind him.
In the eerie light of the emerald, he saw nothing, but he believed the force that had come to life in the stone was drawing the attention of something he did not want to meet.
Caelan did not understand the magic contained within this emerald. He only knew it somehow responded to the shadow forces, fed on their power to mysteriously augment its own. Sometimes it served as a protector; sometimes not. He did not know how to direct it, how to use it. And now it was too large to be concealed in his amulet pouch. He would have to find another way to carry it.
Using a corner of his cloak as a pad against the heat thrown off by the stone, Caelan scooped it up and hurried on. With every stride he listened for sounds of pursuit, but whatever lurked behind him did not follow.
The pain in his chest was gone now, but it had drained him. He knew he was not fast enough, not as alert as he should be.
Sighing, he rubbed his chest and felt old, tired, and mortal. His ambitions had been driven out of him, and now he could only look back at them with wonder and amazement. Why had he even fantasized that he could accomplish such things?
It was time for him to leave Kostimon and Elandra to their fates and go home to Trau. He had unfinished business there, old scores to settle, old ghosts to make peace with. Even if E’nonhold had been destroyed, the land remained. He should claim it before the provincial governor awarded the deed to a purchaser.
And as this determination settled within him, the ambitions faded from his heart. The heat inside his emerald gradually cooled until once again it felt cold and lifeless like any stone. The light it cast went out, and Caelan was once again plunged into the darkness.
He stumbled to a halt, frustrated and discouraged. With all his will, he tried to reach into the stone and reawaken its magic. It remained unresponsive in his fist.
Ahead, however, he heard the plodding hoofbeats of Elandra’s horse. Straightening his shoulders, he reminded himself of his duty to protect