Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [175]
Raegar was lying, of course. He looked down at the faces gazing up at him, faces that had been pale with fear but were now flushed with hope. They needed to believe Aelon was still in control, still watching over them.
His voice boomed and thundered around the hall. “It is true that countless numbers of our people have been killed. It is true that much of Sinaria lies in ruins. I have heard that our beloved Empress may be among the dead. My faith wavered. I doubted in Aelon. Yes, I admit it!”
His gaze swept those in the Temple. No one spoke. No one dared to breathe.
“I was given to know the truth. My faith is being tested. Aelon is asking me if I am strong enough to go forward in faith, carrying his banner, to complete the destruction of our foes!”
The crowd cheered. No more sneers, no more insults. These fine people were ready to follow him, the slave, the barbarian.
“Our enemies are now escaping Sinaria with a great treasure in their possession! A treasure they stole from us when their gods murdered the Priest-General. I say we go after them and take it back! Who is with me?”
The cheering was thunderous. Raegar had a difficult time forcing people to quiet down long enough to listen to his plan.
“Our path will not be easy,” he told them. “We will have to leave this place of safety and endure the flood and the fire. But be assured, as I am, that Aelon is with us, that his hand will guide us.”
He issued commands and men hastened to obey him. As for Raegar, his faith was restored. He had no doubts. Somewhere in heaven, Aelon vowed revenge.
CHAPTER
18
* * *
BOOK THREE
The dragon, trailing fire from its wings and hurling bolts of lightning, swept over the city, the flames burning so hot that the deluge of rainwater could not put out the fires. The wind-whipped inferno leaped from building to building. Those trapped inside rushed out, only to drown in the flash floods that had turned streets into rivers. The barricades caught fire and were swept away. Burning wreckage swirling on top of blazing water surged down the streets setting fire to everything it touched.
Skylan saw at once that riding into the city was to ride into certain death. Acronis realized the same and turned his horse’s head. Without a word, they followed the Legate. They galloped across grasslands, rode through olive groves, trampled vineyards. They saw farm houses in flames, cattle and sheep and pigs running wild or lying dead in the fields. They found bridges washed out and had to ford raging streams.
Skylan immediately lost all sense of direction and he wondered how Acronis knew where he was. His way lit by the flaring lightning and the lurid glow of blazing pine trees, Acronis rode on unerringly, pausing at the tops of hills and rises to get his bearings, then leading them on. When the fire-streaming wings and hideous roar came close, Skylan and his comrades sought shelter in ravines, hunkering down, enduring the terror until the dragon had flown on to wreak havoc somewhere else.
They rode and rode until they came upon one of the man-made sluices that carried waste from the city. Skylan saw objects bobbing in the water. At first he thought they were logs and then a sheet of lightning swept across the sky. He saw faces and he realized that the logs were corpses, hundreds of corpses. He sat on his horse gazing into the murky water, into the staring eyes and gaping mouths, the straggling hair and cold flesh, and he knew he would see this terrible sight until his own eyes closed in death.
The bridge across the sluice was gone. They would have to ride through the dreadful river of carnage. Acronis led the way, urging his horse to keep going even when the bodies bumped into the beast, causing it to shudder.
“Don’t look, Treia,” Aylaen said, urging her horse forward.
“Look, Treia!” Skylan wanted to shout. He wanted to seize her and force her to look at what she’d done. Treia rode slumped over, her head