Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [32]
He stood there as though his feet had frozen, and had an unwanted vision of Beloth sitting on that throne, towering over his suppliants. Dark coils of smoke belched forth from openings in the ground. Shyrieas perched on the tall back of the throne like pets, their wings folded, talons dark against the bright gold. A gaming table stood before the shadow god, and tiny humans stood upon the squares, crying piteously.
“Free me,” said the voice of Beloth.
Caelan staggered back into the cliff wall. The jolt, however, did not free him from the terrible gaze of Beloth. It felt as though fire was blazing inside his skull, turning his thoughts inside out. Sweating, he writhed, unable to break away.
“Speak my name aloud, and free me,” Beloth commanded. “You have the power to sever my bonds. Speak!”
Caelan screamed.
“Caelan!” Elandra cried out. She gripped him and shook him hard.
Jolted from the vision, Caelan blinked and saw her face instead of Beloth’s. He shuddered and covered his eyes with his hands.
“What is it?” she demanded in alarm. “What is wrong? Why do you stare at the ruins? What do you see there?”
The forbidden name felt heavy on Caelan’s tongue. He suddenly wanted to say it aloud to make it ring through the air. He wanted to tip back his head and shout it.
The sound of Beloth’s deep voice echoed through his mind. Panting hard, he stared at the mound of earth that marked the god’s tomb and felt himself shaking violently all over. His mouth clamped shut in fear, and he battled the urge to speak until Beloth’s unspoken name burned in his mouth and felt branded on his tongue.
Sweat popped out on his forehead. He could not fight this. His strength was nothing against the force of the god’s will. He was being crushed from inside. His heart was jerking, no longer able to beat. He could not breathe. Fire was consuming his veins.
“No,” he gasped. “No. No!”
But the darkness was reaching for him, engulfing him, and he could not fight it, could not even sever himself to flee it.
Screaming, he went down.
Chapter Six
The emerald blazed inside his pocket. With his last scrap of conscious will, he grasped it, hoping it would protect him.
But Beloth’s visage filled his mind anew. Caelan could not command his fingers enough to even hold his emerald. He was dying in the flames of torment, and in agony he rolled on the ground.
Desperately he clutched the scoured earth, digging up one handful and gripping it until his fist shook.
Kneeling beside him, Elandra scooped up soil and sprinkled it over him. “Oh, great mother goddess of the earth, have mercy on us who are trapped within thy folds. Protect us from this taint, this sore within thy side. Strengthen us, that we may not fail thee.”
Through the roaring flames inside his mind, Caelan heard the words of her prayer and clung to them with desperation, although worship of the earth mother was not for men. Yet he was born of a woman, and brother to a woman, and loved a woman. These connections were his hope, and after a moment the agony within him eased. Beloth’s image faded from his mind, as did the crushing pressure to speak. He felt himself released, and with a moan, he rested his forehead on his arm and dragged in shuddering breaths of relief.
Elandra still knelt beside him, her hand hesitantly on his shoulder. “Can you speak?” she asked after a moment. “Can you stand?”
They were not safe here. He realized it had been a mistake to pause. If Beloth could sense their presence, anything else in the realm of shadows could. They had to go.
He pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off Elandra’s hand. She retreated from him, and he staggered