An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (41 page)

She gazed up at him, seeing the concern on his handsome face. His forehead gleamed with a sheen of perspiration in the golden light. He looked starkly professional, dressed again in his black jumpsuit, pulse-pistol on his hip. “As well as can be expected.”

“The closer we get, the more you look like you might bolt and run.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Are you feeling that way?”

“Of course. I’d like nothing better than to crawl into some warm dark hole and stay there forever.”

“You can back out. Just say the word and I’ll make other arrangements.”

“No … no.”

They passed beneath a series of arches cut into the stone and crossed a bridge spanning a trickle of water: the fifth such bridge they’d traversed. Curious, Rachel thought, that so much water existed beneath the surface and she’d never known before. Ahead, a brazier glared, lighting what Rachel strongly suspected was the final door,
the gateway to the pit of darkness.
A hard knot of terror formed in her stomach and her steps faltered.

“Jeremiel, I—”

“Yes, I know.”

Gripping her hand, he gently pulled her to him. Cradling her shoulders in one arm, he walked her back the way they’d come, speaking in soft soothing tones. “Do you need more time? You’ve only had a month. That’s barely enough for the pain of the square and the death of your husband to dim. We can give you another week. Just tell me and—”

“No, though I appreciate your saying so. If I don’t go now, I’ll never be able to muster the courage again. I’m sorry I’m acting like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool. Every soldier prays before battle.” He lowered his voice still more and gave her a wry smile. “And since you and I don’t have metaphysical solace, our best method is to contemplate the virtues of cowardice.”

“Just now I can think of quite a few such ‘virtues.’”

“Oh, there are several. I myself have counted at least five hundred and sixty two.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “That many?”

“And I never had a chance to finish thinking. The enemy stopped me.”

“With an attack?”

“A wave of attacks.”

“Did you heed the five hundred and sixty-two and politely excuse yourself from the foofaraw?”

He smiled wanly. “Nobody’d let me. But I’ve always wished they had. That, Rachel, is why I’m giving you the opportunity.”

“You think I should back out?”

“I think you should do what your gut tells you. That’s the only reliable portion of a person’s anatomy at such a time.”

“You don’t rely on your head.”

“Certainly not.”

“Nor your heart?”

“No.”

She frowned, thinking about that. “My head tells me I’m insane.”

“And your heart?”

A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed it with difficulty. “It just aches.”

“That’s why I never listen to mine. If I did, I’d never fight a single battle. The killing is all insane and it hurts. There’s no way around those two facts.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Oh …” He took a deep breath and said through his exhalation, “Because there’s some tickle in my gut that tells me I’m doing the right thing.” He squeezed her shoulders tightly and she felt the warmth of his side against her arm. “What’s your gut tell you?”

Rachel stopped and stood in the protective circle of his arm, trying to overcome the terror of her head and heart to feel something deeper. That same tickle he’d spoken of stirred in her stomach, but it had less to do with a utilitarian ‘right,’ she knew, than with a suffocating personal need to hurt back, to give as she’d received. After a minute, she responded in a resentful whisper, “It tells me to do
quickly
what I must.”

He nodded his acceptance. “Shall we turn back around, or keep going in this direction?”

“Turn around.”

He did as she bid, whirling them both and heading back toward the door that led to the streets of Seir and, inevitably, to the Mashiah’s palace.

“Are you ready?” Rathanial asked in trepidation as they approached—as though he feared she might blurt a hearty ‘no.’ His white hair and beard gleamed silver in the brazier’s glow.

“Yes, please, let’s hurry.”

Jeremiel placed strong hands on Rachel’s shoulders and stared into her eyes. She saw his face harden. “Don’t,” he instructed stiffly, “let the guards get you alone.”

A prickle climbed her back, memories rising of the soldier’s leer the day Shadrach had died. “No, I—I—”

“Listen,” he interrupted sternly. “If it looks like they might take you anywhere but inside the palace and directly to the Mashiah, scream your head off. Make sure somebody in power hears you. Plead for the Mashiah’s mercy. Understand?”

“I understand.”

In the feeble wash of golden light, he dropped his hands and clenched them into fists. “Remember, to secure your legitimacy, everything you’ve ever believed in must be disavowed.”

“That won’t be hard, Jeremiel.”

The corners of his mouth tucked in a sort of forlorn conspiratorial smile. “But that’s not all.
Everyone
you’ve ever believed in must be abandoned. The Mashiah has to think you’ve given up all alliances with the rebel faction. You’ll have succeeded if he finds you nothing more than a beautiful, completely vulnerable acolyte who’s lost her way and is in desperate need of his guidance.”

“I know.”

In a sudden movement, he looked uneasily over his shoulder at the monks. Then she felt his muscular arm go around her waist in a gentle but firm hug. He dragged her away into the darkness. His breathing came fast.

“What is it?” she whispered, feeling his tension as a palpable thing.

“Rachel, I want you to understand that no matter how critical your side of this undertaking, you don’t have to …” he paused, pursing his lips as though unsure how to put the difficult words. “You don’t have to do anything you find—morally offensive.”

“Jeremiel, I won’t become his lover for you or for the Gamant people. I’ll shoot myself in the head rather than face myself in the mirror every morning for the rest of my life.” Yet, whispers sounded in the depths of her soul,
what about for your family? Your friends who still live in the shadow of his brutality?
“Providing I live through this.”

“You’ll live.”

“You’re an optimist.”

“No, I’m not. I have all the odds carefully calculated.”

“Really?”

He shot her a look and smiled. “Well, maybe not all of them, but the vast majority.”

“That’s what I figured. I imagine your chances and mine are the hazy ones?”

“You’re a good guesser.”

She smiled wanly. How could they banter like this when in only an hour she’d be trapped in the lair, face to face with the dragon himself?

He slowly started to back away. “I’ll see you in a few days. Don’t get worried about me. I
will be there.”

“I know you will,” she murmured and watched him walk back into the darkness.

In front of her, the massive stone grated back just enough for her to exit. Pulling her cloak tightly closed, she stepped out into the moonlight and hurried down the narrow dirt street. Cold wind gusted into her face, bringing with it scents of human wastes and the howling of dogs. As she gazed around, she wondered how they’d come so close to the palace? Were there subterranean exits that accessed all parts of the city?

The midnight moon cast cobalt shadows across the quiet homes, gleaming like liquid silver from tin roofs and broken windows. Curious, she thought, that very little had been repaired since the destruction of the temple. Adom hadn’t even moved the victims from their war torn domiciles. These damaged houses remained occupied. She knew from the low whickering of horses and occasional cries of a baby that brushed the night wind.

Pressing her back against a stone wall, she cautiously peered around the corner. In the distance, the Temple stood like a gaping black wound against the moonlit background of desert and mountains. Blasted walls towered bleakly. Nothing remained of the crystalline Vault of Heaven except a glittering web of diamonds scattered erratically across the temple grounds. She stood weakly, seeing again the blood-spattered walls and red dust pommeled by a thousand desperate feet.

Rachel stretched her neck to see farther down the street and a swallow caught in her throat. The palace loomed up like a huge triangular beast, its skin gleaming a soft dove color in the moonglow. She stumbled, panting, against the wall, eyes squeezed closed. Why hadn’t she known the fear would be this bad? That it would gnaw at her like a starving animal? Somehow in the past month of warmth and safety the wound shock of previous weeks had worn off and now, suddenly, her terror had reawakened, tingling powerfully to life this night.

“You have to. There’s no one else.”

Forcing her terrified body to round the corner, she walked with silent deliberateness, fists clenched so hard they ached. The light penetrating the buildings threw a pewter patchwork across her path.

She fixed her eyes on the palace and fought to control her breathing. A hundred windows stood open to the cold breezes and in at least a dozen, lamps glowed, flames wavering in the wind. She surveyed the heavens, seeing the midnight moon adorning the skies. Why would so many still be up and about?

Rachel frowned and wet her lips, struggling against a blinding premonition that the lights gleamed just for her. “Don’t be a fool,” she mouthed silently. “No one knows you’re coming.”

Sprinting down the street, cloak billowing out behind her, she slowed and sidled alongside the parapet, listening. The portcullis stood open.
Where were the guards?

Edging around the corner, she dipped into the gardens and stopped in the shadow of a gazebo. Moonlight glinted from every sprig of dead grass, contrasting the blades in a shadow show of silver and onyx. Through the latticework of the roof, light dappled her face as she stared up at the pink marble steps stretching like a huge fan to the brass doors.
The mouth of the dragon’s lair.

But … where were the guards?

She squinted around the ugly rock sculptures, searching.
There were always guards.
Amidst the weave of black shadows, she caught a brief flash of the palest of golds. Time ceased as her heart stopped. She peered intently into the darkness, but for an eternity nothing stirred. The entire world seemed to have fallen into a silent silvered crypt. Only the wind moved, whistling around the gazebos.

Then, near the next stone statue, a prolonged glimmer of tousled golden waves slid through the shadows. Moonlight shone on the inverted triangle around his neck. He walked gracefully with his hands clasped behind his back, as though deep in thought. The silver light caught in his voluminous blue cloak as the wind whipped it about him in snapping folds.

Rachel pressed a hand hard to her mouth to stifle the cry that rose and with the other gripped the turnpost of the gazebo to steady herself. Hatred mixed with fear to fill her like a drug, paralyzing her trembling legs. She could only stare as he strolled nearer.

When no more than ten feet away, he stopped and looked up suddenly. She couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but she thought a faint smile curled his lips. He spoke gently, “Rachel? Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. God said you’d come. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Adom, please, I must talk with you. Don’t … don’t hurt me.”

He stepped closer and she could clearly see the distress on his handsome face. “No, of course, I won’t. That’s why there are no guards tonight. Milcom said I should meet you myself, to assure you that you’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

His words sank in and a wave of nausea tormented her. “You knew I was coming?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve known for days. I’ve been making preparations.”

“I don’t understand. I only decided yesterday—”

“God knows things long before we ourselves do.”

“God?”

“Yes, He came to me almost a week ago to tell me. He wanted me to keep your arrival secret from the High Councilman, though he said he suspected Ornias already knew.” He frowned in confusion. “I don’t know why he said that.”

“And you … you sent the guards away?”

“I didn’t want them to frighten you. Sometimes they do things I don’t know about and I wanted to be sure no one hurt you.”

“Hurt?” she asked tremulously. “Don’t you want to
kill
me after what I’ve done?”

“I did for a time,” he said ashamed. In the silver gleam of moonlight, she saw his jaw tremble. “I didn’t understand then, that you needed me. God helped me see the truth. He wants you close to Him before the first motions of the destruction begin.”

“Destruction? Of what?”

“Oh, everything.” He smiled tenderly.

Rachel felt sick, her stomach threatening to empty itself. She knew suddenly that she walked into the lair of a
mad
dragon and she could no longer back out. Somehow, she had to carry on, complete her part of the mission. She shuddered, sucking in a breath, and he strode quickly to her, wrapping his arms around her protectively. His velvet cloak felt warm and smelled of hyacinths and coffee.