Shadow War - Deborah Chester [78]
An enormous serpent, perhaps eight or ten feet long, lay coiled on the other side of the altar. As Elandra approached reluctantly, the serpent lifted itself into the air until its head was at her eye level. It swayed there, its forked tongue flickering, with the altar between them.
“Choose a stone,” the serpent commanded.
Shivering in fear, Elandra closed her eyes a moment. She was still too close to the dreadful army. She wanted to keep on running and never stop. She had no time for this.
“Choose!” the serpent commanded.
She tried to go around the altar, but her feet were frozen again.
“I don’t want to choose!” she cried furiously. “I must run and warn the others. There is no time.”
“Choose!” the serpent commanded. “You will not pass by me until you have chosen.”
Impatiently she swept her gaze across the gems again.
Ruby. Sapphire. Topaz. Emerald.
Each was beautiful. Each was flawless, worth a king’s ransom.
“Only one may you take,” the serpent told her.
She felt hurried and flustered. This was some sort of test, but she could not reason it out. There was no time. She had to run and warn the others of what was coming.
“I don’t want any,” she said.
“Then you will stand here forever.”
An unearthly howl lifted behind her. The hairs on her arms prickled, and she felt herself shrink inside with fear. The armies of hell were coming closer. She dared not glance back.
“Choose!” the serpent said. “Quickly.”
The ruby she did not want. She hesitated over the others, not understanding the significance they represented.
The howl came again, louder and closer. One of the dragons swept over her, and she felt the hot scorch of its flaming breath.
Without further hesitation, she reached out and plucked up the topaz.
There was a tremendous explosive sound around her— blinding light and deafening noise. The world went white, then black, and once again she was falling.
Chapter Ten
In the honeycomb of chambers beneath the temple of the Penestricans, the night had passed and dawn lay near. The candles were burning low with tired flickers. The chanting had stopped hours ago. All was silent, and in that silence anxiety stretched so strong it nearly became a sound itself.
The Lady Elandra lay on a slab of stone, straight and stiff, with her hands folded across her stomach. Robed in simple white, her unbound hair spread out beneath her, she remained unconscious and still. Her breathing was so slight she might have been dead. Her pale face was drawn, and a frown knotted her brows.
On one side of her stood two of the sisters, looking frightened and anxious. On the other side stood Anas, almost as pale as Elandra. And at Elandra’s feet stood the Ma-gria, her old face very grim indeed.
With angry eyes, she swept the faces of the others. “This has been badly handled from the start,” she said, her gaze stopping on Anas. “I told you to be kind to her. Have you grown so efficient, so cold, so brutal, Anas, that you have forgotten how to be gentle? Have you forgotten the meaning of kindness?”
Anas looked mulish and upset. “You blame me for this?”
Denial was always a clumsy line of defense. It showed how rattled Anas was.
“You pushed her into the memories,” the Magria said. “You pushed her too far.”
“The memories are an important part of the cleansing process,” Anas said half angrily, defending herself like a child. “I did not know she would go past them. We screened her before, when she was with us. She exhibited no abilities to have visions then.”
“But she has had one now,” the Magria said. She sighed, feeling every year of her age. It had taken all her strength to pull Elandra back. Even now, as she thought of what she had seen through Elandra’s vision, she shuddered. It was fearsome indeed, as clear and vivid as any of Ma-gria’s own visions, and all too likely to come true.
“The child was not prepared for this. She has had no training. She could not protect herself.”
“But you