Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [93]
Anas’s blue eyes blazed. “Violence breeds violence. Spill your blood on these steps and let evil take hold practically within our gates? Let her go!”
Hecati circled around Elandra as though to take the escape permitted her. Then she paused and stared deep into Elandra’s eyes.
“No!” Bixia called, still unable to get through the press of Penestricans blocking her path. “Aunt Hecati, don’t leave me! I need you. I need you! Please, please. I don’t understand!”
Hecati did not even glance back. Her evil gaze went on boring into Elandra. “You think you’ve won,” she whispered. “I would have gained entrance here if not for you. Oh, you’re a clever girl. Clever. But the dark goddess will not forget your interference this day. No, she will not forget.”
As she spoke, Hecati lifted her hand as though to slap Elandra.
Elandra flinched reflexively, but instead of a physical blow, an intense white light struck and blinded her. Then something else hit Elandra, knocking her into the wall with stunning force. She must have cried out in pain and shock, but she could hear nothing for the roaring blast around her. It was as though the cliffs had exploded.
The roaring went on and on until she wondered if it was the end of the world finally come upon them.
Then the roaring stopped, and feeling returned to her bit by bit. Her head stopped ringing, although it ached fiercely. She felt the hardness of the steps beneath her, stone edges digging into the side of her left breast and hip. She smelted dust and a scorched scent of magic and some kind of bitter herbs she could not identify. The wind was still blowing, and the women around her were chattering with a mixture of fury and consternation. She could even hear Bixia wailing in the distance.
But despite all that; Elandra could see nothing. Instead of the shifting shapes and colors of vision, she was surrounded by a strange, unsettling whiteness. Like fog, only bright, like the glare of sunshine off the white walls of her father’s palace in summer. A painful, glaring whiteness. Not the usual dark of having her eyes closed. Not that.
Gentle hands lifted her and smoothed back her hair.
“Are you hurt?” It was the voice of Anas that spoke to her.
Elandra stared at nothing, her wits slowly returning, although what they had to face was too terrifying. She opened her mouth and could not find the words to speak. What would become of her now? How could she live her life, crippled in this way? Could anything be done?
“Get back. Give her air,” Anas commanded. “The Magria must be informed. Resta, I shall deal with you soon. You were careless, allowing a Maelite so near to us.”
“But, Deputy—”
“Hush! We cannot discuss it here. Come to my chambers later.”
“Yes, Deputy.”
Footsteps and more chatter. A cool hand on Elandra’s brow was comforting, although nothing could remove her shock and rising panic.
“Are you hurt?” Anas persisted. “Can you answer, Elandra? The witch is gone. You will not be harmed by her again. I promise that.”
A promise. Elandra swallowed back bitter laughter. Oh, a promise. She had already been harmed enough; what more did she have to fear from Hecati now? As for this self-pity flooding her, what good was it? Elandra found herself choking on the unwanted emotion, hating it.
She coughed, still supported by Anas’s kind hands, and felt tears slip down her cheeks. “I—I—” Her mouth was too dry. She choked again and bowed her head.
Someone else came.
“Be gentle with her,” Anas said quietly. “It is spell- shock. She cannot yet speak. Take her inside. No, carry her. Speak softly and make no sudden movements. We were careless, sisters. We were all careless, and see what it has cost us. The Magria will be most displeased.”
No one answered that stinging rebuke. The fact that Anas’s voice carried self-blame as well as censure made little difference to Elandra.
Two sisters carried her between them. Elandra let them do as they wished. Her mind was filled with memory and a gamut of tangled emotions. Hecati—hate-filled and vindictive—had had the last