Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [73]
I had to find help! The lightning danced around us, the wind grew stronger. Pellets of ice stung my face, bruising and cutting my flesh. All was total darkness now, except for the brief intervals of terrible day when the lightning lit the sky. And then I saw through the slashing rain the flashing red light, blinking on and off, apparently unaffected by the storm. Perhaps there were people there, gathered around a fire, using their magic to keep it alive. Lifting Gwen in my arms, I carried her toward the red light, praying the first unselfish prayer I probably ever uttered—that the Almin would send someone to save her.
Who was I expecting to find by that fire? I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have been much surprised to see angels or devils. I would have welcomed either one. We could not survive this storm long. It was increasing in ferocity, and I had the dim, almost dreamy thought that comes sometimes in the midst of terror that it was battering against the Border of the world, trying to break it down.
There were times I literally could not move against the tremendous force of the wind, times when I had to use all my strength just to stand, clasping Gwen’s cold, motionless body close to my own as the wind buffeted me and the rain and ice drove like sharp needles into my skin.
By sheer effort of will, I struggled on. Eventually, I came to the red light. It was not a fire. There was no one around—devil, angel, no one. The red flashing light came from an odd-looking object sticking out of the rain-soaked earth, and it was not even warm to the touch. Frustration and despair overwhelmed me. The strength in my legs gave way, and I sank, with Gwen in my arms, to the ground.
At that moment, above the noise of the storm, I heard a rumbling sound. It grew louder as I listened. I could feel the ground shake. The lightning was almost incessant now. Peering through the rain, I saw—illuminated by brilliant flashes—a huge monster crawling toward us. It had a squat, angular shape with two great flaring eyes in front, and it was bearing down on us with incredible speed!
So this is how it ends, I thought. Torn to bits by some foul beast. I gave myself up to the darkness inside me. My last remembered thought was one of thankfulness that Gwen was unconscious and would slip into death without knowing these final moments of terror.
They tell me I was conscious when they found me. They said I spoke to them and it appeared to them—for they could not understand me—that I was prepared to fight. They tell me—and they smile to recall it—that I couldn’t have fought a child. My struggles were feeble, and I fainted.
As for me, I remember nothing until I woke to the sound of voices. Terror assailed me, then I calmed myself. It was a dream! My heart beat rapidly in hope. The trial, the sentencing, the execution, the storm … it was all a dream and when I opened my eyes I would find myself back in the house of Lord Samuels….
I opened my eyes and stared into a glaring light, so bright it hurt. My bed was hard and uncomfortable and I realized suddenly that I was inside something made completely of iron. It seemed we were moving, for we rocked back and forth with a sickening, swaying motion. My dream had been all too real.
Yet, I still heard voices. Sitting up, I tried to see, shielding my eyes from the light.
The voices were very close. Dimly I saw two figures, standing near me, walking unsteadily with the motion of the iron thing. They noticed me as I sat up and one came over to my side.
He spoke in a language I could not understand and it seemed he realized this, for he kept patting my shoulder while he spoke, in a reassuring manner, as one comforts a frightened child.
I was not frightened.