Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [8]
Elandra’s mouth fell open, but she said nothing. Others stared at Caelan in open astonishment. As for Elandra, she wondered if he knew what he risked by accusing Sien so openly. The priest had been Kostimon’s most trusted adviser for a long time. Only a fool or a very courageous man would dare speak against the priest.
Kostimon’s mouth clamped in a thin line. His yellow eyes blazed with anger and impatience.
The guardsmen watched, the whites of their eyes showing in the torchlight. Murmurs rose among them.
“Lord Sien,” called Kostimon, “I call on you to serve me now.”
The priest did not answer, nor did he appear. Realizing she was holding her breath, Elandra released it. Then she sent Caelan a look of fresh wonder. It seemed he had indeed cowed the priest into staying away.
“Damn!” Kostimon said angrily, twisting about in the saddle. “Where is the man?”
“He can not come,” Caelan said again, his voice very terse.
Kostimon glared at him. “Is he dead?”
“No, Majesty.”
Another eerie sound came from Paz’s corpse. Kostimon glanced at it and scowled. “There is no more time to wait for him. I shall have to do this myself.” He lifted his free hand into the air while the other gripped the reins. “I, Kostimon the Great, call on the hidden ways! Exalted ruler of the shadows, show mercy upon thy subjects and reveal the ways to us.”
Several of the men gasped at his request. Elandra felt coldness squeeze her own heart. Suddenly she was short of breath, and everything about her did not seem quite real. Kostimon was calling on the powers of darkness, the forbidden knowledge. Openly, with all of them as witnesses, he was committing blasphemy.
“Dear Gault,” Elandra whispered aloud in her horror, “watch over us and keep us safe.”
Caelan’s gaze met hers. “Gault does not rule here,” he said in warning.
Across the cavern, the shadowy darkness curled back as though parted by an unseen force. Eerie light not cast by fire appeared in soft radiance. It hurt Elandra’s eyes to look at it. Blinking, she squinted and turned her face away. Her heart was beating faster now. Her mouth was dry. She felt deathly afraid.
A doorway stood revealed in the strange light. The wall surrounding it was carved into the shape of a beast’s snarling mouth. As they watched—disbelieving, horrified, some muttering prayers and others hastily making warding signs—the door swung silently open to expose a yawning darkness beyond it.
A dank, ancient smell came to Elandra’s nostrils. She shivered, and her horse whinnied nervously.
“Do not fear!” the emperor called out across the confusion. “Ahead of us lies safety. At our backs grows the danger of Beloth.”
As he said the unspeakable name, something shrieked behind them.
Crying out involuntarily, Elandra looked back and saw a shape rising from the black pool surrounding Paz’s body. The shape looked slender, almost like a child or a woman. Now it was unfurling wings that dripped and splattered the black fluid. Each splatter on the floor spread into a miniature pool of its own, rapidly spreading and growing.
“Ela!” Kostimon shouted. “Don’t look at it. You’ll draw it to you. Hurry and pin this to your cloak. It will protect you.”
As he spoke, he drew a metal disk from his pocket and thrust it at her. She saw that he wore a similar disk pinned to his own cloak. Some trick of the torchlight made its polished surface gleam as though it emitted fire.
But when the disk touched her gloved palm, a searing flash of light and heat shot out. Sparks flew between the disk and her glove. She cried out and dropped the disk, which went clattering across the ground.
It rolled up against Caelan’s boot. He stooped and picked it up as though in wonder.
“You!” the emperor shouted at him, barely controlling his plunging, half-rearing mount. “Give that back to the empress. She must wear it. It’s her only protection against the shyrieas.”
Fresh fear leaped into Elandra’s throat. She couldn’t help looking again at the monsters that were forming. They shrieked