Chapter Twelve
Elandra awakened in a strange place. Not certain whether she was dreaming or having a vision, she sat up and found herself in a tiny cave. A circle of black ashes showed her where a fire had once been lit, but had long lain cold. Sunlight shone in from the cave’s narrow mouth, providing faint illumination.
Following it outside, she stood in the bottom of a narrow gully next to a frozen stream. Drifts of snow spilled down the banks, looking white and soft. The air smelled of clean, pungent scents unknown to her. She thought of Gialta with its steamy jungles and heavy fragrances of rot, damp, and exotic flowers. Trau was so different, so cold and austere.
She walked out farther from the cave, her feet unsteady and slow. The clearing beyond the gully lay empty. She heard no sound other than the soft swaying of the trees. Loneliness filled her, and she wondered where Caelan had gone.
Uneasy, Elandra gazed about a moment, then picked up her long skirts to jump the stream. As she leaped, the world seemed to fold itself in half, taking her with it.
Crying out, she fell sprawling and expected to land in the water. Instead, the stream had vanished entirely.
With it were gone the gully, the cave, the trees, and the snow. In their stead stretched a desolate plain of barren soil and rocky outcroppings. A rough wind blew steadily, whistling in her ears and whipping her long hair into her face. Elandra climbed again to her feet and looked around in wonder and rising fear.
In every direction she saw only bleak emptiness. No plants, no insects, no life. She was swept by a feeling of terrible loneliness, as though she were the last person in the world who remained alive.
“Welcome to the future,” said a voice from behind her.
Startled, Elandra whirled around and found herself face to face with Hecati, the malevolent woman who had raised her in her father’s household and made her early life such a misery.
At first Elandra could only stare, stunned by the sight of an enemy she’d never expected to see again. Hecati’s face had grown more sour and wrinkled than ever. She wore a black wimple that blew in the wind. Her eyes burned into Elandra’s with contempt and hatred.
Elandra felt as though all her courage had been knocked from her in one sharp blow. She felt twelve years old again, skinny and unprotected, about to be punished by Hecati and her willow switches.
Dry-mouthed, she blinked hard, but Hecati did not vanish. “Hecati,” she said at last, managing to stammer out the woman’s name.
“Elandra,” Hecati replied, her voice thick with sugary sweetness. “My, how changed you are from when I saw you last. You overcame my parting gift. How clever of you.”
Elandra felt cold inside. Hecati had blinded her on the steps to the Penestrican stronghold before the sisters could intervene. Elandra had spent weeks without her sight, a harrowing experience she would never forget.
Anger mingled with her fear, warming her, strengthening her. She lifted her chin, refusing to let Hecati think she could still be intimidated.
“Yes, I can see again,” she replied coolly, giving thanks now for the long lessons in deportment and palace protocol. She was no longer the ragged, illegitimate daughter of a busy provincial household, tyrannized and abused. She was an empress, and she would act like one.
Her gaze met Hecati’s, betraying none of her inner fear. “The Penestricans restored my sight.”
“Yes, and now you are their puppet.”
Elandra’s delicate nostrils flared. “You will address me as your Majesty.”
Hecati’s eyes narrowed, and a light flush appeared on her face. “Fool!” she said. “You dare rebuke one of Mael’s chosen? I can char you to ashes where you stand!”
Elandra’s topaz was glowing warm and hidden within the curl of her fist. She tried to draw strength and reassurance from it, although her heart continued to pound.
“If that were true, you would have done it already,” Elandra said with defiance. “Why have you brought me to this place? What do you want?”
“This is the future! Look at it,” Hecati commanded maliciously, spreading her hands wide.
Elandra kept her gaze on the witch’s face, refusing to look at the blighted landscape. “What do you want?”
“I want to see your fear.” Scooping up a handful of soil, Hecati hurled it at Elandra’s skirts. “You are empress of a dead land.”
“You say it is the future,” Elandra said. “But because it does not yet exist, the future can change an infinite number of times. That means there is hope of an alternative.”
Hecati glared at her, looking displeased. “Someone has taught you philosophy and logic,” she said at last in grudging acknowledgement.
Elandra smiled.
The sudden smell of something burning was the only warning Elandra had before Hecati threw what looked like a black ball at her. As it came through the air, it uncoiled into the long, slender form of a serpent.
There was no time to think. Elandra lifted her hand instinctively, and the light emanating from her topaz shone upon the serpent.
Just before the serpent struck her, it exploded into ashes that blew away in the harsh wind.
Hecati screamed as though hurt, but only fury showed in her withered face. She lifted her hands, curling them into claws. “Damn you!” she cried. “You witless bastard, who gave you a Jewel of Sovereignty?”
Elandra had no intention of telling her the truth. Defiantly she faced the witch. “Am I not the empress sovereign? Do I not share my husband’s reign?”
“You are nothing!” Hecati shouted. “You have an unconsummated marriage. You love a slave of such low lineage he cannot even be found in our auspices. You are a penniless exile from your own palace. And you carry the poison of darkness in your veins, which will soon render you one of the living dead. Oh, yes, Elandra the Illegitimate, hold yourself high with pride. But what does so much pride avail you? You are nothing!”
Tears sprang to Elandra’s eyes, and it was all she could do to hold them in check. Even now, Hecati’s sharp tongue could still leave wounds. She had the unerring ability to find every vulnerability, and stab deeper into it.
But Elandra was not the girl she had once been. No matter what her emotions, she would not bend. “What do you want from me?” she repeated quietly. “Why did you bring me here for this meeting?”
Hecati stepped forward, and it was all Elandra could do not to flinch back.
“I have brought you here to strike a bargain.”
Elandra frowned, suspecting a trick. “What kind of bargain? I have nothing you could want.”
“Are you interested in survival?” Hecati asked. “Are you interested in being cured of the poison in you?”
Elandra drew in a startled breath and turned her back on the witch. Inside, she was a seething mass of horror and temptation. How did Hecati know so much? Terrified, Elandra clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid of what she might say.
“What do you know of the living dead?” Hecati asked in a quiet, almost conversational voice. “Most people cannot detect them, except by their yellow eyes. They act much the same as when they were alive, but their souls belong to Beloth—”
“No!”
“Yes, Beloth,” Hecati said, her sugary voice in horrible contrast to the nightmare of her words. “And they must obey the commands of the dark god. Even if it is to tear out the beating heart of their own child, they have to obey. Their blood turns black, and eventually they are eaten from within by the demons they carry. It is a terrible fate. What a pity. You are doomed, unless I help you.”
Elandra closed her eyes, trying to shut out Hecati’s voice. But her words echoed and reechoed in Elandra’s mind. No matter how much she distrusted the woman, Elandra knew this time Hecati was telling the truth.
“What do you want?” she asked a third time.
Hecati chuckled triumphantly. “Your allegiance to Mael.”
Elandra blinked and turned around, staring. This was insane. “You would save me from bec
oming Beloth’s minion, but in exchange I must belong to—to Mael instead?”
She could barely say their dire names. To speak them at all was to utter blasphemy. She half expected to be incinerated on the spot.
Hecati looked impatient. “Yes.”
“But there is no difference!”
“There is a great deal of difference.” Hecati stepped forward, but this time Elandra backed away.
“Listen to me,” Hecati said. “You would not be mindless, soulless. You would be an ally, not a puppet.”
Elandra released her breath, trying to keep her wits about her. “I don’t—”
“Hear me. You are empress sovereign. Your position is second only to Kostimon’s, but in reality you have no power at all.”
“The warlords gave me their oaths of fealty.”
“That means nothing, girl! Nothing! If you do not realize that, then you are naive as well as a fool.”
Elandra tightened her lips and said nothing.
“The warlords will turn to anyone but you. Do you expect them to take up arms in support of a woman?”
“They vowed they would.”
Hecati snarled an oath. “Why can you not understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” Elandra broke in coolly. “You need not explain politics to me.”
“Mael will give you an army—”
“I thought the goddess of shadows intended only to release me from the effects of the poison.”
“Your rewards can be multiplied. You are more useful to us in a position of power.”
“What kind of allegiance would I be expected to give?”
Elandra asked. Her hands were shaking at her sides, and she thrust them behind her to hide them.
“Building temples to the goddess for a start. Allowing her to be worshiped without hindrance. Showing public example.”
This time Elandra couldn’t conceal her horrified revulsion. “Such actions would help release the goddess from bondage.”
“Of course! You will weaken her chains, just as Kostimon has done much over the centuries to free Beloth.”
“No.”
“Don’t be stupid. You have no choice in the matter. Don’t worry, girl. It is not too difficult to learn the proper rituals. I shall give you guidance, help you reach decisions, and make policy. I was prepared to do this for Bixia. Now I shall assist you.”
“I refuse.”
Hecati looked at her in astonishment. “Nonsense! You cannot.”
“I can, and I will. My answer is no.”
“Fool!” Again Hecati hurled something at her, and again Elandra raised the topaz in time to deflect it. No serpent this time, but a spear with a wickedly barbed point. It landed harmlessly at Elandra’s feet, and Hecati swore words that burned and smoked visibly in the air.
Elandra cringed back, afraid to hear such words. There had to be a way out of this place. Even if she ran and was forever lost in this wasteland, it would be better than facing Hecati.
“Do not run,” Hecati said sharply before she could move. “You coward, stand fast and listen to me. There is little time left to you. Do you understand that you will die without my help?”
“Better to die than be damned,” Elandra retorted.
“Bah! You are already damned, you fool! Your enemies are powerful, but you could have unlimited resources if you would just agree—”
“No!” Elandra shouted in panic, backing away. “No, I will not agree. I will not!”
“Wait!” Hecati called, but Elandra turned and ran for her life, choosing no direction, just running as fast as her legs would carry her across the barren, stony ground.
With Hecati’s furious cries behind her, Elandra scrambled up a low, rocky ridge with the wind tearing at her hair and clothing, glanced back, then stumbled down the other side. Halfway down she lost her balance on the loose shale and went sliding and tumbling.
She landed at the bottom in a cloud of dust—bruised, scraped, and winded. Wearily she lay there a moment, tense and listening, but she could no longer hear Hecati calling her name.
Instead, she heard a peculiar sound—something between a whistle and a roar.
Climbing to her feet, Elandra turned around and saw an enormous, whirling cloud crossing the desert toward her. Dust and debris swirled around it, constantly being drawn up into its core. It moved parallel to the base of the ridge, and it was coming incredibly fast.
For a second Elandra could only stare. She had never seen such a cloud before. As it roared closer, it seemed to fill the very sky. Only then did she realize how immense it was, how powerful.
It could suck her up inside itself and shred her to pieces. Had Hecati released this against her?
Horrified, she picked up her skirts and ran.
Sucking up dust and stones and spewing them high, the cloud veered after her as though in pursuit. Elandra screamed, and ran faster, to no avail.
It was gaining on her. She darted in a different direction, but the cloud followed her. Feeling its tug, Elandra stumbled and fell to her knees.
Desperately she tried to claw her way upright, but the wind toppled her off balance. Her hair streamed up into the air, and her clothes plastered themselves against her body.
Breathing hard, her throat uttering a mindless noise of terror, Elandra saw objects swirling within the cloud—weapons, horses, pieces of armor, helmets, and men themselves. Their clothing was strangely old-fashioned, and many of the objects were peculiar and old, like the ancestral belongings of previous generations that her father had preserved for the family. It was like watching history winding itself around a giant spindle.
Black, angry clouds massed overhead in the sky. Lightning suddenly flashed, and a second later the crashing boom of thunder made her duck with her hands over her ears. She was blown flat to the ground, and rain pelted her, soaking her to the skin in moments.
The force of the winds ripped at her clothing and slewed her around bodily. She felt herself lifting into the air and screamed again, her fingers clawing at the muddy earth.
“Goddess mother, protect me!” she screamed aloud.
The cloud roared past her, pelting her with rain and dislodged stones, throwing mud over her, deafening her, and pummeling her. But it did not suck her up into itself after all. Moments later, it was gone.
Shaken and battered, Elandra lifted herself slowly and stared after it. The swirling cloud left the ground, rising into the sky like a rope, and now its immense force seemed to be unraveling. Elandra saw men, horses, pieces of buildings, stools, chests, and weapons raining from the sky, scattering across the blighted plain.
As these objects hit the ground, they exploded into dust and were melted into nothing by the rain.
More lightning raked the sky, cracking and booming loud enough to make Elandra clap her hands over her ears. The air reeked of fire and magic. Then abruptly the black clouds vanished. The rain ended as swiftly as it had come, and the roaring monster dissipated.
Breathing hard, Elandra tried to collect her wits. Pushing her muddy hair out of her face, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer of gratitude to the goddess mother. She still held a handful of mud. Now she allowed it to spill from her fingers.
There had to be a way to escape this terrible place. She knew of only one thing to try.
Pulling out her topaz, she cupped the golden stone in her palms and stared into its depths. She tried to put aside her fear, tried to clear her mind of everything except the face of the Magria. Closing her eyes, she reached out in the way the Penestricans had taught her.
“Magria,” she called, “I need your help. You came to me before when I was in great difficulty. Again, I call to you. Please, help me.”
No voice spoke a response to her mind.
Elandra opened her eyes and saw nothing but bleak desolation in every direction. Just as it had been before.
Her spirits sank within her.
But she refused to believe that Hecati was her only hope. There had
to be some way to escape.
Wearily Elandra climbed to her feet and told herself she must try something else.
“I am here, Elandra,” a voice said to her.
It was a clear voice, a familiar one.
Startled, Elandra spun around and found a slender young woman with long, very straight golden hair standing less than five strides from her. Robed in black, her pale arms bare, her blue eyes direct and intense, she was a welcome sight indeed.
Relief flooded Elandra. She smiled and barely kept herself from hugging the Penestrican. “Deputy Anas,” she said, “how glad I am to see you!”
The Penestrican did not return her smile. “I am deputy no longer.” Lifting her left hand, she tossed a slim serpent onto the ground between them. It immediately began to slither toward Elandra’s feet. “Don’t move,” she said sharply as Elandra gasped. “There is nothing to fear if you are who you claim to be.”
Elandra immediately froze in place, but memories of other tests—some of them quite painful—made her frown. “You know who I am, Anas. Why do you test me?”
“If you are the empress, you should not be here,” Anas said in a blunt voice. “You have no means of coming to this future.”
“I was brought here.”
The snake had almost reached the frayed toe of her slipper. Elandra forgot the rest of what she’d been about to say and stood tense and wary as she watched the serpent’s tongue flicker rapidly. The snake had the wedge-shaped head of a viper; she believed that Anas could command it to strike with venom if she chose. The Magria, always more gentle than her deputy, would not have brought a poisonous snake for this test of truth. The Magria would have been more compassionate.
Elandra found it difficult to swallow. When Anas did not respond to her last statement, she glanced up and met the cold appraisal in those blue eyes.
“I was brought here,” Elandra repeated. “Against my will. I can tell you by whom and for what purpose.”
“Silence,” Anas snapped. “Do not disturb the serpent of truth.”
Before Elandra could protest, the serpent slithered away from her.
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