Chapter Six

The emerald blazed inside his pocket. With his last scrap of conscious will, he grasped it, hoping it would protect him.

But Beloth’s visage filled his mind anew. Caelan could not command his fingers enough to even hold his emerald. He was dying in the flames of torment, and in agony he rolled on the ground.

Desperately he clutched the scoured earth, digging up one handful and gripping it until his fist shook.

Kneeling beside him, Elandra scooped up soil and sprinkled it over him. “Oh, great mother goddess of the earth, have mercy on us who are trapped within thy folds. Protect us from this taint, this sore within thy side. Strengthen us, that we may not fail thee.”

Through the roaring flames inside his mind, Caelan heard the words of her prayer and clung to them with desperation, although worship of the earth mother was not for men. Yet he was born of a woman, and brother to a woman, and loved a woman. These connections were his hope, and after a moment the agony within him eased. Beloth’s image faded from his mind, as did the crushing pressure to speak. He felt himself released, and with a moan, he rested his forehead on his arm and dragged in shuddering breaths of relief.

Elandra still knelt beside him, her hand hesitantly on his shoulder. “Can you speak?” she asked after a moment. “Can you stand?”

They were not safe here. He realized it had been a mistake to pause. If Beloth could sense their presence, anything else in the realm of shadows could. They had to go.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off Elandra’s hand. She retreated from him, and he staggered to his feet. Still breathing hard, he wiped his face with his arm, then doubled over and vomited.

Only then did he feel as though he had escaped. The weight of Beloth’s forbidden name was no longer inside him.

“You are ill,” Elandra said in concern. She touched his sleeve, and through the quick flow of sevaisin between them, he knew she had encountered Beloth herself before, and escaped through the intervention of the earth mother.

Caelan shut his eyes a moment. Ancient magic, natural magic ... the kind that Lea had understood.

“We must get out of here,” he said in a low voice.

“But where?” she asked in despair.

He pointed at the slope of another hill rising beyond the ruins. Noise and light came from that direction, the only signs of life in this dead place.

“Are you certain?” Elandra asked him.

He nodded, still feeling clammy and weak. His sense of danger was growing stronger.

“We must hurry,” he said. “I’ll explain later, but whatever you do, don’t look at the tomb.”

“I understand,” she said, and her voice was stark with fear.

A rat ventured forth from among the rocks to lap up what Caelan had spewed. Disgusted, he turned away swiftly and led Elandra down the hill.

They skirted the city and the mist, lacking the courage to venture into either. Gripping Elandra’s hand tightly, Caelan severed himself in order to see with truth and strode grim and fast over the blighted ground.

Occasionally a shyriea flew overhead, and red eyes glowed furtively at them from the ruins. Caelan heard shrieks now and then as something fought and died. But obviously Beloth’s powers remained limited, even here. And perhaps not all the denizens of the realm of shadow could see Caelan while he was severed. Or perhaps they dared not attack someone capable of resisting their dire lord and master.

Past the ruins at the base of the next hill, Caelan and Elandra came to a stone amphitheater shaped like a deep crater. Its steps descended far below to a stage lit by flaming torches. Smoke and mist obscured what was happening down there. Caelan glimpsed an altar and moving figures. The seats themselves were filled with an assembly of warriors in black cloaks, helmets, and armor.

Beside him, Elandra gasped. “The army of—”

He put his hand swiftly across her lips, but she had already silenced herself. A low rumble passed through the ground underfoot as though Beloth had heard her near mistake. Neither of them must speak the god’s name.

They hurried on, skirting the theater, keeping to the scant cover offered. The sentries standing at the top of the theater were seemingly mesmerized by the activity on the stage. They did not look elsewhere.

Eerie trails of light rose into the air, mingling with the smoke. The scorched smell of dark, forbidden magic filled Caelan’s nostrils, making him feel dizzy.

Still holding Elandra’s hand, his sword gripped in his other fist, Caelan ran for the slope and started picking his way up the steep, rocky trail. At the top he could see two tall stone pillars where a strange, yellowish green light glowed brightly. When Caelan looked at it too long, his eyes burned and watered. He knew that was the gateway back to their world. He could see the truth beyond it, could sense the realm of light past its barrier.

Elandra stopped and ducked behind a large boulder, pulling him down with her.

Impatient by this delay, he tugged at her hand, but she would not budge. “You can’t go up there,” she whispered.

He frowned. What had happened to her courage? They were practically to the gateway. After all they had gone through, she could not stop now.

“Come,” he said.

“No! Don’t you see them? Take care,” she said in warning.

His frown deepened. What was she talking about? He saw nothing except the gateway, shining brighter than ever. Great rays of its light shone down the hill toward them, as though reaching out. He could see a dark figure silhouetted up there, but nothing else.

But Elandra herself was barely more than an aura shining beside him. He was deeply severed, to the point where he saw only the essence of things. But Elandra would not warn him idly. Telling himself to listen to her, Caelan pulled partway out of severance and saw a double row of flames burning along the trail. He frowned, and came completely out of severance.

Once again, exhaustion sapped his strength. He found himself leaning against the boulder for support, his spent muscles aching, his fear constricting in his chest.

And he saw the double row of guards in black armor lining the trail ahead of them all the way to the stone pillars. Caelan drew in a sharp breath, realizing that if Elandra had not stopped him he would have marched right up to the guards.

He met her gaze through the gloom. Nothing had to be said.

“What do we do?” she whispered, her voice as soft as the wind.

Without severance, he felt too tired to cope. Exhaustion brought discouragement, yet he refused to surrender to either.

“There is one way,” he replied softly. “What we did before.”

She frowned and pulled away from him in wordless refusal.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “I can walk alone past the guards, and they will not see me. But unless you are a part of me, you cannot leave this place.”

She said nothing, but tears spilled down her cheeks, sparkling in the moonlight. The sadness in her face gave him his answer, and in anguish he bowed his head. Why could she not love him? Why could she not trust him? Why must she fear him so?

“Gault help me,” she whispered, her fingers tightening on his. “I need what you offer as a fish needs water to live. Take me into the joining. I would be in your heart again.”

It was as though the sunlight reached into this gloomy world, spreading radiance across the shadows. Caelan’s heart leaped inside him, but there was no time for joy. In the distance he heard the mournful howl of a hunter.

Elandra stiffened next to him. “Hurry,” she breathed, casting a look over her shoulder. “The hell-hounds—”

“Don’t think of them,” Caelan whispered. He melted into se-vaisin, flowing into Elandra and feeling the brief jolt of exhilaration as she flowed into him. They shared more completely this time, and he found it tempting to remain lost in the wonder of such a union, yet there was too much danger for him to forget himself.

He severed back into the cold void, going only partway now for fear of losing her. Elandra’s fear entwined through him, making concentration more difficult than before.

Thus steeled, Caelan stepped out from behind the boulder and walked forth up the trail until he came to the guards of darkness. He passed them, close enough to reach out and touch them, and took care to keep his pace slow and steady.

It was tempting to run, but he dared take no chances. Caelan knew he was tiring, despite the protection of severance. This time it was harder than ever to maintain his concentration, to maintain the detachment. He could feel the pain in his leg from his wound. He could feel the aches in his body, the need for rest and food and water. He could feel Elandra like a weight, bearing him down. Holding her in severance was a strain now, one he did not think he could endure for very long.

But ahead stood the gateway, like a beacon. He could almost smell the freshness of air and light beyond it.

One of the warriors in black turned his head as though he sensed Caelan’s presence. The visor of his helmet was down, but through the slits glowed red, inhuman eyes. Pale smoke curled forth from beneath the rim of his visor with every exhaled breath.

Caelan paused, frozen by that scrutiny. He could sense the guard questing suspiciously. For now Caelan remained unseen, neither of one world nor the other, but somewhere between. His gaze swept over the long row of silent grim fighters concealed in their black cloaks and dark steel, tattered smoke rising above their heads. If only one of them saw Caelan, it would be over.

Making a low, guttural sound, the guard finally turned his head back toward the figure that stood next to the gateway.

Caelan felt relief stealing over the edges of severance, blurring it further. Quickly he plunged deeper, knowing he put Elandra at risk, yet not daring to take more chances. He hurried now past the guards, almost running past this army of hell.

His speed made more helmeted heads turn. They could not see him, but their unease was noticed by the Guardian. Robed and hooded in black, this figure stepped forward just as Caelan reached the top of the hill.

A voice, deep and monstrous, spoke a single word to him. It was not Beloth’s voice, but the sound resonated loudly enough to make the ground shake beneath Caelan’s feet. Hot wind lashed his face, blowing his cloak back from his shoulders. He glanced up, and saw ancient symbols burning in the air before they faded like dying embers and their ashes blew away.

Fear twisted through Caelan. His control of severance was unraveling, and the world seemed to tilt and shift around him before he regained mastery of himself. He felt a stab of pain in his chest from the effort he was expending. He felt also Elandra’s fear and exhaustion, as well as the swirling confusion in her mind. She was unprepared for any of this; her courage was starting to fail.

Desperately Caelan focused on the gateway, using all his strength, all his force, all his essence to envision it opening.

The Guardian’s voice thundered again, making the world shake. A blast of heat scorched Caelan, making him cry out. The yellowish green light between the pillars began to dim. As it did so, he glimpsed the world beyond. His world of sunlight and blue sky and verdant life.

Struggling, Caelan took yet another step forward. The pain in him grew sharp—a sawing, gouging pain similar to what he used to feel during lessons at Rieschelhold years before. It used to hurt to sever. It hurt now to maintain it. This task was beyond his abilities, beyond his powers.

Yet he had to accomplish it. Gathering all his reserves, he hurled everything he had, every bit of will, every ounce of desperation at the force that held him back.

He felt the invisible bond give way, and he shouted in triumph, taking two strides forward before he was stopped again.

Pain burst through his chest, and he sagged to his knees in defeat. Spent, he closed his eyes while his breath rasped in his lungs. His chest was on fire. His mind was on fire. He had given everything he had, more than he had. Now, he could do no more.

Something unseen but very powerful struck him, and the last of his severance crumbled.

Once again, the world shifted and tilted around him. He opened his eyes with a gasp, only to see nothing but darkness. Then there was a flash of light, dazzling him with such brilliance he cringed and flung up his forearm to shield his eyes.

He was vaguely aware of sevaisin fading within him too, of Elandra slipping from him, of a tearing sense of separation. Then he saw her, white-faced and terrified, kneeling beside him. She was breathing hard as though she had been running. Her eyes stared past him, wide and mesmerized. Now and then a tremor ran through her body.

He reached out to her, and started to speak her name in reassurance. But instead he saw the Guardian looming over them. The Guardian reached up with both gloved hands and pushed back the hood.

Caelan stared at the revealed face. His breath lodged in his throat; his body turned rigid and unable to move.

Beside him, Elandra screamed.