Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [89]
The trees thinned out, and the air grew progressively drier and cooler until a sharp wind blew constantly and the air felt thin and hard to breathe.
When they reached the top of the mountains, Elandra lifted weary eyes to the heavens and saw the stone walls of a stronghold rising up above the narrow road. Something about the architectural lines of the structure made her hair rise on the back of her neck. It looked extremely old and primitive.
Indeed, with the sheer walls of the cliff faces rising up around her, Elandra felt hemmed in and increasingly trapped. She could not explain her feelings; they were deep fears, primitive and inarticulate. The age of the place filled her with uneasiness. Carved into the cliffs were ancient symbols that seemed almost familiar, although Elandra was certain she had never seen them before. Whenever she stared at them too long, a sensation of dizziness would force her to turn her gaze away.
She told herself it was the thin air that made her feel so ill, hut inside she was less sure.
Equally disturbing was the fact that they came to no village. The stronghold stood alone, completely isolated at the top of this long, treacherous road. Even then, when the road abruptly leveled out in a sort of clearing and stopped, the stronghold towered high above them. The only way to reach it was via a steep series of steps carved into the solid rock of the mountainside.
The Imperial Guard galloped ahead, banners streaming. Trumpets blared, sending up a summons that echoed loudly. The Gialtans circled the elephants, grouping them into a bunch. Thus, Elandra found her palanquin unexpectedly next to Bixia’s.
The two half-sisters glared at each other.
Bixia leaned over and said, “This time you will not usurp the honors due me. You will wait. You will keep your place. Am I clear?”
Elandra looked down, feeling humiliation burn the back of her throat. She clenched her hands in her lap and nodded silently. She didn’t trust her voice.
The trumpets blared again, and this time a gong was struck in the stronghold in reply.
Figures robed in black appeared on the ramparts, gazing down in silence. The absence of welcome and fanfare made a sharp contrast to the streaming banners and fluttering saddlecloths below.
Both generals dismounted. As they approached the steps, a single figure in black descended to meet them.
Elandra felt a chill shiver through her. She had chased such a black-robed woman in her dream. To her knowledge she had never seen a Penestrican before. Nor was she someone with the gift of foretelling. How had she known what these women would look like?
Servants scurried about the elephants, bringing ladders to help the passengers dismount.
Conscious of the need to avoid further mistakes, Elandra sat still, making no move at all until Bixia was safely on the ground. Then Elandra descended as quickly as possible. The wind plucked at her veil, sending it streaming out to one side. She found herself conscious of her travel- stained and very wrinkled gown. Her muscles ached, and her eyes were gritty from insufficient sleep. She felt wind- blasted and unkempt.
Hecati moved quickly around Bixia, straightening her gown and brushing away wrinkles. Magan did the same for Elandra, who gave the maid a tired smile of gratitude.
Then the generals, gleaming in burnished armor, swords clanking at their sides, returned from the steps.
Both bowed first to Bixia, then to Elandra.
General Handar, his plumed turban powdered with dust and his spurs jingling with every step, dropped to one knee before Bixia and bowed even more deeply with his hand over his heart.
“My lady,” he said in his deep voice, “permit this servant to wish you all the blessings of the gods in your future. I have discharged my duty in bringing you safely to the hands of the Penestricans. With my honor have I guided you to this place. With my life have I protected you. May peace follow your name. I request of you my farewell.”
It was a beautiful speech, spoken with all the honor and sincerity