Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [63]
Pain speared the back of the Magria’s skull. With a scream she threw herself back in her chair.
The gold serpent raced across the sand, pursued by the green and the blue. The black snake tried to follow but found itself cut off by the gray speckled one. The two fought furiously until at last the black twisted free. It reared up, seeking the gold serpent, but before the gold serpent was round I he white snake of death uncoiled its mammoth, sluggish body. It rose up, stretching high above the dais itself. And it swallowed the Magria.
* * *
Hours later, she awakened on the stone of revival, the granite smooth and cool beneath her back. Around her stood the rough walls of the small, private chamber cut into the rock just beyond the sanctum. The air was cool and refreshing. She could feel dried sweat on her skin. Her body seemed weightless, as though only her spirit anchored her to the stone. Exhaustion had melted her bones to nothing.
Someone came to her and laid a cool cloth across her forehead. The Magria could smell restorative herbs scenting the water that had moistened the cloth. She closed her eyes to seek the multiple points of relaxation. Cool hands continued to minister to her. Soothing hands.
After a short time, the Magria opened her eyes and looked up into the face of her deputy.
She forced open her lips, felt them tremble. “Anas,” she whispered.
“Gently, “Anas soothed her. She spread a blanket across the Magria and smoothed its folds. Then she washed the Magria’s face gently with cool clean linen. “Take your time. I have brought wine for you.”
The Magria nodded, sitting up, and Anas brought the cup to her lips. The Magria drank deeply of the golden liquid. It was dry, yet rich with flavor, supremely restorative.
She sighed, feeling strength flow back into her veins. But her fear and disquiet did not lessen. Taking the cup, she gestured Anas away.
The deputy folded her hands within her sleeves and stepped back. Well trained, she waited with serene eyes.
The Magria pushed away the blanket and climbed off the revival stone. She leaned cautiously against it for moment until she had tested the strength of her legs. She was drained entirely. She longed to sink back into oblivion and sleep for a thousand years.
Then with a blink, the Magria’s memory returned. She recalled the vision and its terrible message. Her mouth went dry, and when she tried to sip more wine her teeth chattered against the cup.
“There is no hurry,” Anas said. “Rest longer, Excellency, until you are stronger.”
The Magria turned her head sharply to look at the deputy. “Did you see it?” she demanded. “Any of it?”
Anas hesitated, then lowered her gaze. “I saw blood,” she admitted.
The Magria hissed and slammed down her cup. “Anything else?”
“No, Excellency.”
The Magria glared at her and said nothing. After a moment Anas raised her eyes and met the Magria’s steadily.
“You know the danger of that,” the Magria said, deliberately letting anger fill her voice.
Anas did not flinch. “I could not withstand all of it. Blood seeped from the walls. It ran among us, filling the floor. The hems of the sisters’ robes were soaked with it.”
The Magria turned away to hide her own fresh rush of fear. “Did anyone else see this?”
“No. All remained veiled.”
Relief steadied the Magria. That at least was a mercy. She was in no mood to conduct a purge. Not now when there was so much to do. “The sisterhood has grown lax,” she said, keeping her voice harsh. The tone masked much, and she did not intend for Anas to know anything other than what she chose to reveal. It was not easy to come to terms with a vision of her own death. She needed time for that, time that she did not have.
When she turned back to the deputy, she was in command of herself again. Her gaze was icy, and this time when she raked it across Anas, she had the satisfaction of seeing her deputy frown.
“Forgive me, Excellency,” Anas said. “I alone transgressed.”
“You have been trained better