Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [174]
“The Venjekar!” he bawled at Acronis, moving close to be heard. “We have to reach the Venjekar!”
“And I must go home to Chloe!” Acronis yelled.
Fighting the wind, they managed to drag themselves onto the horses. Treia was starting to moan, regaining consciousness. She opened her eyes, staring around dazedly.
“Give her to me!” Aylaen had to shout to be heard.
Keeper glanced uncertainly at Skylan, who shrugged, knowing it would be useless to argue. The ogre hoisted Treia up into the saddle behind Aylaen. She grabbed her sister’s hands and drew them around her waist, holding them fast.
Treia blinked her eyes and stared about in confusion. She had no idea where she was or what was going on. Aylaen kicked the beast into motion and Treia nearly tumbled off the back. She grabbed hold of Aylaen more out of terror than because she knew what was happening.
They rode out of the bowl of the arena. Once they reached the top of the hill, all they could see was rain and smoke, fire and death. They rode on.
Raegar ran through the city streets toward the shrine of Aelon, where the warrior-priests were gathered. He prayed as he ran. “Aelon, I can help you fight this battle, but you must help me! You must keep me alive!”
He said the prayer over and over, and either the god granted his prayer or Raegar was blessed by being far taller and stronger than most men. He waded through flood waters that carried others away. He shoved aside heaps of rubble that impeded his path. Hit by flying debris, he shrugged off the pain and kept going.
The streets had turned into rivers. Bodies floated past him, bumped up against his legs. Here and there, some wretched survivor floundered in the water, searching for loved ones, crying out for help. Many of the buildings had collapsed or were collapsing.
Raegar ran on. Xydis was dead. Probably the Empress was dead, as well, as were many of the nobles who had been with her in the grandstand. Raegar was wounded, but he was alive. Sinaria was wounded, but she, too, would survive. Sinaria would need a leader, someone to take charge in this time of crisis, someone to stand defiant, someone to fight back.
When Raegar reached the Shrine, he saw, with fast-beating heart, that it was still standing. He found men and women gathered outside, pounding on the doors, which were bolted fast, keeping the unworthy from entering.
Raegar shoved people aside and beat on the doors, shouting, “I bring word from Xydis!”
They opened the door to him and he plunged through it. The wretched people outside tried to cram their way in. The warrior-priests pushed them out and slammed the door shut.
The Shrine was filled with Temple guards and warrior-priests. They had gone out to man the barricades and do battle, but when the dragon struck, they gave up the fight to seek refuge with the god.
Raegar was astonished at the relative quiet inside the Shrine. His ears rang with the din of the chaos outside, and for a moment the ringing drowned out the voices of those who gathered around him demanding news.
Raegar needed everyone to hear him, and he began to shoulder his way through the crowd. Mounting the podium, Raegar assessed the situation. He could not have asked for better. No one was in charge. No one had taken command. No one knew for certain what was going on. Rumors were flying; the latest being that the ogres were on their way to slaughter everyone.
He raised his hands and a hush fell. His imposing height and impressive appearance served him well. He was accustomed to the acoustics of the building, knew where to pitch his voice to gain the maximum effect.
“It is my sad duty to report that Priest-General Xydis is dead,” Raegar announced. “He died in my arms of wounds suffered battling the dragon.”
Gasps and cries rippled through the crowd.
“We commend his soul to Aelon,” Raegar continued, his voice strengthening, “but now is not the time to grieve. Now is the time for action. The ogres set fire to our city. Their evil gods flooded our streets. The dragon summoned by Aelon did battle