Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [18]
Jogging on legs that felt leaden with fatigue, Caelan mentally gave thanks for the years of tough conditioning and training for the arena that enabled him to keep going. The walls of the passage began to glow softly, very dimly at first, then strong enough to see by. The illumination came from streaks of a pale, slimy substance on the walls. He dared not touch it, but he was glad to finally be able to see where he was going.
Ahead, Elandra’s horse had stopped and stood with its head down. Elandra’s hands rested on her horse’s neck. The reins dangled free from the bridle.
He staggered up to the animal, taking care not to startle it, and gripped the dangling reins with a sigh of relief. The horse snorted and rubbed its head against him as though seeking comfort. Caelan stroked its muzzle and scratched its ears, too tired to murmur to it.
Sitting a little slumped in her saddle, the empress looked wan and unearthly in the peculiar light. Her long auburn hair had blown across her face and hung there, half concealing her features. Her mouth was slack, and her eyes held nothing at all. It worried him, to see her like that. He did not know how long the spell would last, or whether it would ever wear off.
“Elandra?” he said very softly to her. “Majesty, are you all right?”
She stared into the emptiness ahead of her. She did not blink. She did not move. Her lips remained slightly parted. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest told him she was even alive.
“Majesty,” Caelan said again, knowing he should not try to break the spell that protected her here, but unable to silence himself, “can you speak?”
She remained silent.
Frowning at himself, he shoved his worries away. He urged the horse forward, and together they trudged on.
He could feel the aches of battle: sore muscles grown stiff, the stinging discomfort of scrapes and cuts, the flaring tenderness of bruises. He was hungry. He longed to rest, yet dared not stop.
Gault of infinite mercy, he prayed wearily, guide our way and keep us from harm.
It was a fool’s prayer, he knew. He was a long way from the realm of light, but he repeated his prayer anyway.
A splashing sound and the cold wetness of water filling his boots startled him.
Halting, he peered ahead. At first he could not see the water he stood in, so black was it.
It ran swift over his feet, as icy cold as a glacial stream. Bending over, Caelan splashed it onto his face.
It burned his skin, making him nearly cry out.
Gasping, he staggered back a step and rubbed the water from his eyes. His face still stung, but he was awake now, fully alert again.
With burning eyes, he squinted at the stream. The streaks of glowing illumination were few and far between here, casting only the palest of shadowy light over the black water. He could not judge its width in the gloom.
The water ran swift yet silent, with none of the usual rush and roar of a river. He could smell the water now, and despite the rapid current that should have kept it fresh, it stank like stagnant pond water.
Wrinkling his nose, Caelan severed his nearly overwhelming thirst, putting it aside. This was not drinkable water.
The horse dropped its muzzle to the dark surface of the water as though to drink, but flinched back, snorting and rolling its eyes. It put down its muzzle again, only to refuse to drink. Nervously, the animal backed up.
Caelan jumped at it and succeeded in catching the dangling reins before it could turn around and bolt back the way they’d come.
“No, you don’t,” he said softly through his teeth.
They would have to cross. Better to do it now and get it over with. He hesitated a moment, still trying to calm the unsettled horse, then touched Elandra’s foot briefly.
“Majesty,” he said with respect, “if you can hear me, then see that you hang on tight. I don’t know how deep the water is. We may have to swim, and the current is swift. Take care you don’t let it sweep you from the saddle.”
He looked at her, but she gave no sign of having heard him. Sighing, he took her hand and entwined some of