Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [176]
A strange wind rose up, blowing across the square. The hem of Mael’s dirty rags fluttered against Caelan, and even their touch was like a burning brand pressed into his skin.
He gritted his teeth and rolled onto his side, trying one last time to raise himself and strike. One final blow could take her at the knees and send her toppling back to whence she came. He strained until his vision danced with black, and the sword scraped across the ground.
With a laugh, Mael stamped her foot upon his neck, pinning him. “Die, mortal,” she said. “And so shall the land die with you!”
Elandra crouched next to the fallen ruins of the pavilion. She was still dizzy from the lump on her head and stunned from the spells and dreadful forces that had raged in the square as Caelan and Beloth fought. Now Caelan lay pinned by the horrifying Mael herself, and everywhere people were moaning and sinking down in their tracks, dying already in the goddess’s presence.
She saw Agel fall, and Iaris. She saw Pier go down, and her father stagger. The Penestricans scattered like birds, separating to stand next to certain individuals as though to shield them from harm. The Magria came hurrying toward Elandra herself, but just then Elandra heard a shrill, warbling, ferocious sound rise into the air.
Goose bumps rose across her flesh. It was a war cry such as she had never heard before. Who was making such a noise? Women? But not the Penestricans.
Then the outcry stopped, and a chant low and fierce started up in its place. Elandra frowned. She had heard those words before. They were Mahiran words, spoken to her long ago.
Chiara kula na. Woman of fire.
She remembered the legend told to her. She remembered the second destiny foretold to her by the Magria. Now, at long last, she understood. Rising to her feet, she drew forth the embroidered pouch that contained her topaz.
The Magria reached her, gripping her arm in an effort to pull her down. “Stay low,” the Magria said to her. “I shall try to protect you.”
A cry of agony wrenched from Caelan’s throat. Elandra whirled and saw Mael plunging her distaff through him once again.
Mindless fury possessed Elandra, driving out all fear and caution. Shaking off the Magria’s grasp, Elandra ran straight at the goddess of death.
“Mael!” she shouted. “Begone from us! We will not worship you! We will not fear you! We will not submit to the death you bring!”
The goddess paused in her torture of Caelan and lifted her deadly gaze to Elandra. Her lips skimmed back from stained, rotting teeth, and she shouted a curse that buffeted Elandra.
Staggering to a halt, Elandra felt her mind go numb. She nearly fell, but the jewel pouch in her fist was burning her palm even through the cloth. The pain of its heat restored her wits. Breathing raggedly, she dug the topaz from its pouch.
“Puny mortal!” Mael shouted. “You can’t—”
Elandra hurled the topaz at her with all her strength. The jewel struck Mael in the chest. Explosive flames engulfed her. Screaming horribly, Mael writhed back. She drew the distaff from Caelan’s body and swung it blindly through the air. The flames fed on her immortal flesh, so hot and intense that Elandra was forced back. Unable to breathe the hot, stinking air, Elandra lost her footing and dropped to her knees, shielding her face with her arms.
Mael’s body burned to a skeleton, some of the bones shattering from the heat. She dropped the distaff into the chasm. With a final scream, the goddess toppled over and fell in also.
The earth shook and shifted, throwing Elandra flat. A terrible thunderous roar shook the world, toppling the few remaining walls and buildings into dust, finishing the last of the city.
Clinging to the ground that heaved and shifted beneath her, Elandra prayed for mercy. Terrified that Caelan might also fall into the chasm, she crawled in his direction and caught him by his sword belt just as he started to slide over.
A bald, burly man she did not know came running to her aid and helped her drag Caelan to safety just before