Shadow War - Deborah Chester [71]
Once before she had entered the Penestrican stronghold between rows of women holding candles. That time, she had been attacked by a Maelite witch and blinded. It had been weeks before she regained her sight, and then she had been told her true destiny.
With a sinking feeling, Elandra could not help wondering if yet more surprises awaited her inside this small, shabby temple.
It was the ancient Penestrican temple, a place closed and deconsecrated centuries before during the purge. The Vindicants had wanted it torn down, but Kostimon refused because Fauvina’s remains were buried there.
At the top of the steps, Elandra’s escort halted before the small, plain altar fashioned of stone. A wreath of flowers lay on it, along with a clod of earth and a simple clay vessel of water. The sisters began to chant, and with deep bows both the officer and the executioner backed away, moving down the steps with care.
Elandra was left alone.
She stood facing the altar, gripping her cloak to her throat with both hands to conceal their trembling.
The chanting grew louder. It was an elemental, primitive sound that sent shivers up her spine.
Beyond the altar hung a curtain the color of the sky. It was drawn open by an unseen hand.
Dry-mouthed, Elandra walked around the altar and ducked beneath the fold of curtain. She passed into the gloom beyond.
She found herself in a tiny room, very dark after the daylight outside. Candles burned in numerous niches around the walls. The air was dry, musty, and cold, overlaid with incense.
Before her a hole yawned in the floor. Steps of crumbling stone led down into a shadowy unknown. Removing her veil, Elandra pushed back the fur-lined hood of her cloak and gathered up her long skirts. Slowly and cautiously she descended the steps, her hem dragging behind her with a soft rustle.
Candles burned at the foot of the steps. Thus, she descended into light, blinking as the illumination grew stronger.
At the bottom of the steps, she found herself in a circular chamber lined with stone. The tamped earthen floor was decorated with a five-sided star drawn with red sand. The serpent box stood in the center of the star, its lid firmly closed.
The chamber was very warm, although she saw no fires burning. Only the candle flames, flickering steadily, reflected in the somber eyes of the sisterhood gathered around her.
Elandra swallowed, but her mouth remained dry. The silence was daunting, and she lacked instructions in how to proceed. Yet the time she had spent with the Penestricans had taught her to exhibit patience and calm in the face of uncertainty. She tried to do so now, waiting without speaking or moving, gazing back at this group of impassive women with an assurance she did not feel.
After what seemed like an eternity, the women parted before her to reveal a doorway. Elandra walked toward it.
When she stepped through, she found herself in total darkness. Startled, she turned around, but it was as though a door had been closed behind her. She had heard nothing, but she could not retreat. Nor could she go forward. When she turned about again, she bumped into a wall. She was enclosed in a tiny cylindrical prison that was barely big enough for her to turn around in, nothing more.
The darkness was the most frightening aspect. She tried to stay calm and not panic. She did not want to be blind again. It was cruel of them to do this to her, knowing what had happened to her in the past. They could have at least given her a candle to hold for illumination and comfort.
But already she guessed that comfort was hardly a factor in what was about to befall her.
The floor moved beneath her. To her surprise, she realized she was being lowered yet deeper into the bowels of the earth. By what means she did not understand, but when she stretched out her hands to the walls she could feel them scraping against her gloves as she went down.
Then her progress stopped with an abruptness that