Realm Of Light Part 3

He glanced at her, his eyes blazing an intense blue, and nodded without speaking.

Elandra heard the sound of splintering wood. Looking back across the cavern, she saw an axe blade cleave through the wooden panels of the door. Suddenly she could hear shouts and war cries.

Her heart lurched anew. "Madruns! They have found us. The spell is not holding."

"He has released it," Caelan corrected her angrily.

Kostimon straightened in the saddle and picked up the reins lying slack on his horse's neck. Turning, the priest hurried back to him and pointed the head of Kostimon's horse toward the open portal within the open jaws of the stone beast.

"Go," he commanded, and the horse walked forward.

To Elandra, whatever lay on the other side looked pitch black. A cold air blew forth, and it stank of something she could not identify. She averted her eyes, s.h.i.+vering.

"The emperor knows the way through," Lord Sien said from his invisible position.

The priest handed a burning torch to Kostimon, who took it without expression. The emperor's face was slack and strangely empty.

"He has gone this way many times," Sien's voice said. "Follow him, and you will be safe."

"Majesty, no-" Elandra called after her husband, but Kostimon did not look back. Afraid for him, she started to call again, but Caelan touched her foot to silence her.

"He does not hear you," Caelan said quietly. "Or if he does, it makes no difference to him now."

Kostimon rode through the portal, lazily ducking his head just in time to go under the low entrance. The darkness engulfed him instantly, and Captain Vysal rode in after him. The other mounted guardsmen followed, then the men on foot. Sergeant Baiter brought up the rear.

The sergeant glanced back at Elandra, who still hesitated.

The door at the other end of the cavern gave way with a splintering crash, and Madruns poured through. She stared at them, caught between two very different kinds of danger, and felt her own resistance give way.

"Caelan," she said, hearing urgency and fear shaking in her voice, "will your warding key not work again?"

"Not against barbarians of our world," he replied. "Go."

It was as though he gave her permission.

"And what of you?" she asked worriedly. "Will you also take this journey?"

He shook his head. "I will hold them as long as I can-"

"Don't be a fool!" she interrupted angrily. "Your death will not serve me."

"He fears to walk the hidden ways, Majesty," Lord Sien said, mocking them even as he remained too much a coward to face them physically again. "Yes, even a warrior like him comes eventually to his own limit. Call it cowardice if you wish, but he will not take the path to safety. He will not pay. its price."

"What price?" she asked in alarm. "What do you mean?"

Caelan's gaze s.h.i.+fted to watch the Madruns, who were entering the large cavern cautiously, almost fearfully. A crease appeared between his brows, but he remained aloof, as though nothing could touch him, as though he were encased in ice, without feelings. Yet she knew he was capable of feeling deeply, beneath his icy surface.

"What price?" she asked again. "What lies waiting in there?"

"Only the mysteries," Lord Sien replied. "Will you take the cup? I can guarantee your safety no other way."

The unnamed priest held up the goblet to her again.

"I do not trust you," she said. "I will stay here, and take my chances with the kind of danger I understand."

Sien's voice made no reply, but it was Caelan who turned on her.

"Don't be foolis.h.!.+" he said angrily, surprising her. "You are needed elsewhere."

"I will stay." With you, With you, she wanted to say but did not quite dare. she wanted to say but did not quite dare.

He glared up at her. "Then you make worthless everything that was done tonight! Every man's death was for nothing-"

"I will go if you go!" she shouted back, equally angry. "Otherwise I will not."

"You-"

"Did you not rebuke the emperor's men for refusing to serve me?" she said over his words. "Did you not take the same oaths as they?"

Caelan's face darkened. He met her eyes furiously. He said nothing.

She met him look for look, afraid and stubborn. "Unless you hold the bridle of my horse and enter that darkness with me, I will not go."

"You put all of us in danger!" the priest suddenly said. "Beloth's curses on both of you. I will not wait here to be torn to bits."

As he spoke, a war cry rose from the Madruns.

It chilled Elandra's blood. She looked and saw them coming now, as though they had finally seen their quarry. Pointing and brandis.h.i.+ng their war clubs, they came at a run.

Elandra's heart filled her mouth, and her hands tightened involuntarily on the reins, making her horse back up. All her courage drained away. She did not think she could carry out her bluff with Caelan, and she was ashamed of herself, bitterly ashamed.

But just before she whirled her horse to bolt through the portal, Caelan gave her a curt nod.

"As you wish," he said ungraciously.

"The cup," the priest said quickly. He held up the goblet. "They will be on us in a moment. Drink it now."

Frowning, feeling as though she were surrendering her soul, Elandra took the goblet. The gleam of triumph in the priest's eyes frightened her anew. She took a tiny sip, and instantly her mouth was on fire. Choking, she thrust the cup away, almost dropping it so that part of its contents splashed over the side.

Her mouth was on fire, but in its wake came a strange numbness that crept through her face, then down her throat and into her limbs. She found that everything looked strangely crooked and out of perspective. The portal seemed very far away, yet she was already riding through it. Her hair brushed the top of the opening, and she ducked just in time. She entered a darkness as cold and as encompa.s.sing as the grave.

Caelan shook his head when the priest offered him the cup. With a curse, the priest fled through the portal ahead of them.

Elandra's hands rested on the neck of her horse, slackly holding the reins. She listened to the strange and steady boom-boom-boom boom-boom-boom of her heartbeat. of her heartbeat.

I am going to the dark G.o.d, she thought to herself and was horribly afraid. she thought to herself and was horribly afraid.

With all her soul, she wanted to whirl her horse around and bolt out of there, away from the darkness flowing so cold and tangible around her. Yet she could not command her own hands. It was as though by drinking from that mysterious cup, she had accepted something worse than death.

Had she surrendered to Beloth?

She did not want to think so. All her life she had been taught to abhor and fear the shadow G.o.d, whose name was not to be spoken. Yet, was she not now taking the path into his h.e.l.l? And had she not done it willingly, with the helpful trickery of Lord Sien, her enemy?

She tried to cry out, but her mouth would not open. She could not draw enough breath to utter a sound. But in her mind she screamed.

Chapter Three.

Stepping through the portal took every ounce of Caelan's courage. The darkness was a living force, something that pressed against him from all sides, seeking his soul. Sevaisin, Sevaisin, his special gift for joining, brought him unwelcome awareness. He could sense the putrid evil that permeated the walls of the pa.s.sageway and filled the darkness itself, an evil so strong and pervasive it comprised the very air he breathed. his special gift for joining, brought him unwelcome awareness. He could sense the putrid evil that permeated the walls of the pa.s.sageway and filled the darkness itself, an evil so strong and pervasive it comprised the very air he breathed.

Spell residues crisscrossed the chilly air. They were long expired and too ancient to cause harm, yet he could sense how powerful and dangerous they had been.

He drew in deep breaths, sensing unnameable things lurking unseen beyond the darkness, beyond the walls of the pa.s.sageway. The things were aware of him. He sensed the s.h.i.+ft and focus of their attention, the stirring and awakening of the evil force itself.

He found himself afraid, with a fear that bathed him in sudden cold sweat. His mouth went dry. He could not breathe. The hair on his arms rose in swift p.r.i.c.kles, and his heart pounded in sudden, uncontrollable panic.

Get out of here, urged a voice inside him. urged a voice inside him. Get out. Get out! Get out. Get out!

Yet it was too late. His sweating fingers gripped Elandra's horse's bridle, and he quickened his pace toward the emperor's torch-very dim-blazing ahead of them. Elandra had hesitated too long, letting the distance between her and the others stretch uncomfortably far.

Behind them, the approaching Madruns yelled and cursed in their barbaric tongue, pounding their weapons on their s.h.i.+elds in an unholy din that echoed off the cavern walls. The priest jumped through the portal with a gasp of fear.

Caelan danced back in time to see a bright flash of light. The air smelled suddenly of something burning, yet there was no fire. Without being touched, the heavy stone portal swung shut as though of its own volition, and the bolts shot home. Sparks burst from the hinges, setting off orange flames that burned impossibly in midair for a moment before gradually disappearing. The door, however, continued to glow faintly.

Caelan recognized the dark magic. Stark, primal fear twisted his entrails. He had seen much in the years he had lived in Impe-ria, yet never before had he willingly entered the shadow realm. Better to traverse this pa.s.sageway quickly in the emperor's wake, and pray that whatever lived within the darkness would let them pa.s.s unharmed.

Instinctively he reached for the warding key in his pocket. It should have been glowing and hot in response to the magic that had just been released, but the metal disk lay cold and lifeless against his palm.

Fresh sweat broke out across Caelan's forehead. The warding spell that had been linked across himself, Elandra, and Kostimon must have exhausted all the power within the key. Once again he pushed down incipient panic and reminded himself to keep his head. Using sevaisin, sevaisin, he attempted to bring the warding key to life, but it remained unresponsive. he attempted to bring the warding key to life, but it remained unresponsive.

Abandoning it in his pocket, Caelan wiped his forehead and told himself the warding key would not be necessary. All he had to do now was catch up with the emperor.

Accordingly, he clucked at Elandra's nervous horse, leading it forward.

The lady herself uttered not a word. He was not certain she could. As for himself, he had the uncomfortable feeling that this was no place for casual utterances. Words might draw the attention of whatever lived here.

He did not even dare call out to the emperor's party ahead of them. Although he believed he and Elandra would be safer with numbers, he believed even more strongly that making too much noise was unwise.

A cobweb brushed its filmy strands across his face, making him flinch. He lengthened his stride, holding his breath without realizing it. Elsewhere in the gloom he could hear whispers of sounds, indistinguishable and somehow menacing. Sometimes, an unexpected breeze-cold, dank, and smelling of the grave-would blow into his face, then die away.

Nothing came near him. Still, this was the realm of shadow, and it was populated. His nostrils picked up a faint, musky, cloying scent like that of decayed flowers, and he drew in a sharp breath. A Haggai witch was nearby. When his feet crossed a patch of slickness, he knew he'd just walked over the slime trail of her pa.s.sage.

He slowed down, every sense alert, his free hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He must be careful, every moment.

Yet the Haggai was gone.

After a time, her scent faded and he slowly relaxed. However, there were other scents, other indications that denizens of this place had recently been present. It was as though they had cleared the pa.s.sageway for the emperor and his party.

If that were true, Caelan refused to think about the implications. The emperor's involvement with the shadow G.o.ds had been made all too clear. He had pa.s.sed this way before, and he commanded elements that no mortal man should even know about.

Caelan felt more beads of sweat trickling from his forehead. He longed for a drink of cool water, longed to rest. Instead, he quickened his pace again, breaking into a jog and urging the horse to trot beside him. Never mind his fatigue. Never mind that he had been fighting through half the night, or that his nerves were tight to the breaking point, or that his emotions were drained and weary. It was time to catch up with the others.

Yet no matter how fast he went, he could not close on them. Only an occasional flicker of torchlight in the far distance told him they were still ahead. But he never saw the men, never heard them or their horses. It was as though the darkness had swallowed them whole, and they were gone.

In his head, he marked off the distance, counting his strides, grimly determined not to be left behind.

When he had gone a league, he finally stumbled to a halt, breathing hard and trembling from exhaustion. His legs were burning; his wind was gone. The torchlight ahead vanished completely.

He heard no sounds from the emperor's party. He and Elandra had been left behind.

"No," he said aloud, his voice hoa.r.s.e with panting. He leaned against the wall and wiped sweat from his face. Its pungent scent reminded him that he was alive, that he was of the world of life and light aboveground, that he did not belong down here in this hole, in this grave.

Yet, how long was the way to safety? Was there hope of getting out, or had Sien trapped them down here forever? '

Caelan no longer believed he could catch up with the others. He suspected that there was a reason why he and Elandra had been cut off from the others, and he did not like where that thought led.

Groaning a little, he pushed himself upright and strode forward again.

Time ceased to have meaning. As he walked, he grew numb and spent. Every inch of him ached, yet it was more than mere physical exhaustion. The fire of the warding keys that had united him with Kostimon and Elandra had used up his inner resources as well. Three forms of magic-Choven, Mahiran, and an indescribable mixture of forces from within the emperor-had blended momentarily. It was as though Caelan, Kostimon, and Elandra each carried some special power inside, kindred power that had linked from one warding key to another with exhilarating effect.

The demonic shryieas shryieas had been no match for it. had been no match for it.

Even now, just remembering awakened in Caelan a faint, resonant hum of the soul. He craved another taste of that fiery power, longed to feel it course again through him. In those moments he had felt as though he belonged to all the world, was one with nature, yet master of it. He had seemed to be larger than creation itself.

Words could not describe what he had felt, what he had become for those few breathtaking moments.

Caelan had shared with Elandra, becoming one with her. Before tonight he had admired her from afar. His loins had ached with simple infatuation. But she had been forbidden and unattainable. Now, he glanced up at her, unable to see her, yet aware of her like the steady pulse of his own heartbeat. She had given him the beauty of her soul and received his. On some level he felt as though they had walked the road of life together in some other time and place. He felt as though he had known her forever-their memories, laughter, and pa.s.sion bound together through the endless threads of time. The very concept of it sent tremors through him, for he now understood what it meant to love another more than himself, what it meant to put another first.

Again he glanced at her, and his heart swelled with the words he could not utter. No matter what they had shared in a moment of magic, that had been another world. Reality was this world, the here and now. Elandra still belonged to the emperor.

Frustration sawed through him. Hadn't he fought in her behalf? Hadn't he saved her when her husband abandoned her? At this very moment, where was Kostimon? Was he here, by his wife's side? No, there was only Caelan, faithful Caelan, to watch over her and protect her. Did that not make his claim on her more valid than Kostimon's?

Caelan gritted his teeth to hold back the temptations that suddenly swept over him. Perspiration popped out across his forehead. He was flooded with heat, with the conviction that he was going mad. His warrior's blood pumped with a fury that urged him toward the madness. For years his only pa.s.sions had been hatred and the joy of combat-savage, destructive forces that burned his heart. He had never imagined that he could also burn with love for a woman.

Had she not pleaded with him to come with her? Had she not shown her preference?

She was his. She had always been his.

A stumble tilted Caelan off balance, and his shoulder crashed into the wall. The jolt snapped him back from the edge.

Blinking, he rubbed his face and drew in several quick breaths, amazed at himself.

Was he losing his mind? To be feeling like this, to be thinking like this ... it was treason. It was forbidden. She was not his woman. She was the empress, not some village maiden he could throw over his shoulder and carry off like booty.