Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [37]
As the words were spoken, Beva’s face melted as though it had become hot wax, his features sliding down the skull bones to fall, hissing, on the ground. For a second a bleached skull with terrible glowing eyes stared at Caelan, and now it was no longer Beva’s calm, flat voice that issued from the gaping jaw of this apparition but instead a voice like thunder, raw and savage.
“Is this better?” it demanded.
Caelan’s heart pounded so fast he felt dizzy. His wits felt like charred bits of paper, blown and scattered. Hanging onto his last shreds of courage, he forced himself to nod in answer. “It is more truthful.”
“Truth?” the Guardian roared, making the ground shake under Caelan’s feet. “Is this truth?”
Again its visage changed, the skull suddenly on fire, flames bursting forth through eye holes and nostril slits, charring the bones until they were black and crumbling. The flames grew brighter, hotter, until instead of a head there was only a blazing ball of fire and light, too bright to look at.
Elandra cried out in fear, and Caelan turned away, shielding his eyes.
“Don’t look at it!” he told her. “Whatever you do, don’t look directly at it.”
He couldn’t keep from staggering back. He believed it was going to engulf them in flame and destroy them on the spot. He drew his sword, but suddenly the blade was on fire, blazing up like a torch. The hilt grew too hot to hold, and with a cry he was forced to drop it. Beneath his feet, the ground itself began to burn. Little tongues of flame popped forth from the soil, reaching hungrily for the hem of Elandra’s gown.
But where they touched her cloak, they fell back as though extinguished, and burned no more.
A moment later, the air cooled to a bearable degree. The ground also cooled. The flames disappeared. Caelan’s sword lay misshapen and partially melted on the ground. The light emanating from the Guardian’s head dimmed, and once again only a bare skull with glowing eyes gazed at Caelan.
“Who is this woman?” it asked him.
Its voice no longer reverberated with deafening volume, but it sounded blurred and scratchy and deep. Danger lay real within its tone.
Caelan wiped the sweat from his face and straightened up. He felt breathless, as though he had run a long distance. His heart still went too fast. They had come very close to death.
“Who is this woman?” the Guardian demanded again. “She did not burn. She wears protection, spell-woven garments.”
Caelan pulled himself together. “She is my heart,” he answered.
“Say her name.”
Caelan said nothing. Elandra shrank close against him; he could hear the quick rasp of her breathing and remembered how earlier she had begged him not to speak her name aloud. Now he sensed the danger closing around them. To speak a name as commanded here transmitted great power. He dared not obey.
“You know everything else!” Caelan said to the Guardian, putting a jeer into his voice. “You know my life, my memories, my secrets. You know who she is—”
“She is known. But she is protected. Say her name and release her into my power.”
“If I resisted your master, I can resist you,” Caelan said. “Let us leave.”
“The gate is forbidden to all of the realm of shadow.”
“We are not shadow!” Caelan said sharply. “We are light.”
The Guardian pointed a bony digit at him. “Take great care, donare. Your tongue can be burned from your mouth.”
“Let us leave.”
“Speak the name of the woman.”
It was not a choice. He refused to consider it. Caelan told himself he would find another way of escape.
Elandra tugged against him, and fresh fear filled him.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, feeling his strength fading again. If she panicked and fled, he would lose her. “For the love of light, stay with me.”
“Guardian,” Elandra said.
“No!” Caelan cried, turning on her. “Don’t.”
“If you are told my name, will you let us leave?”
“No one leaves the realm of shadow.”
She gazed up at the monster and never hesitated. “Kostimon, emperor of the world of light, passed through the realm of shadow and left it. He has done so many times.”
A dry, rasping noise filled