But there were sounds of battle now behind him, in the temple itself; Ancel and Nico turned as one to see gardai pouring in from the aisles of the side-chapels as well as from behind the quire. There was hand-to-hand fighting among the pews, with scattered spells being cast by the Morellis who were also teni. Nico could feel other spells being cast, far too quickly to be done by teni-so the Numetodo were here as well. However, the war-teni’s spells-meant for mass destruction in open battle-were useless here in a confined space; they would kill Morellis as well as gardai and Numetodo. The war-teni, trained also as swordsmen, drew their weapons instead.
The battle was raging all around, and under the great dome itself, Nico could see Liana, her face pale, chanting and gesturing as she readied a spell. Varina was there also, entering into the temple from the same door she’d left not long before, and she, too, was casting spells.
Cenzi, I need You now. Please help me… The prayer rose up in Nico, and he felt the coldness rise again around him. He started to gather it, but one of the Numetodo-was that Talbot, the Kraljica’s aide?-had seen him, and with a gesture and a word, the man sent fire hurtling toward Nico. Nico had to use the Ilmodo to cast the spell aside. “There’s Morel!” he heard Talbot cry as he pointed toward Nico, and he could feel the Ilmodo being twisted and warped all about him as the Numetodo turned their attention to him. They gave him no respite. As fast as he gathered the Ilmodo, he had to use it to fend off their attacks, and now he was tiring, the exhaustion of using the Ilmodo so strongly and often making his mind and limbs heavy. Once, there was a moment, and he sent Varina, Talbot, and another of the heretics hurtling backward into the walls of the Old Temple, but there were so many of them, and the gardai were closing in around them also…
Cenzi, I need You…
He ignored his weariness. He closed his eyes, pulling in the power and encasing himself in it so that their spells reflected from him like the sun from a mirror. He could barely see the temple through the swirling haze around him. I will take them all, Cenzi. I will destroy them as You want me to…
The war-teni were quickly preparing smaller spells. He could see them readying to cast them at the Numetodo and gardai spilling into the Old Temple. The Numetodo were wielding devices like those Varina had carried, and they pointed them at the war-teni. There were loud reports, and puffs of smoke, and the war-teni cried out in the middle of their chants and collapsed to the ground. There was blood soaking their green robes. This was a magic he’d never seen before, a terrible magic.
Cenzi, please…
He saw Liana readying her own spell, saw Talbot staggering up with his head bloodied. The man pulled out a strange mechanism much like the one Varina had, and-still on his knees-pointed it toward Liana. Sparks glittered, and there was a loud bang, and smoke curled from the long end of it.
And Liana… Liana staggered backward, clutching at herself, and there was a growing dark stain on her tashta between her breasts.
“No!” Nico roared, but his voice was lost in the chaos swirling around him. “No!” He released the Ilmodo wildly, the energy spilling outward without control, sending gardai and Morellis and Numetodo alike tumbling. A wind rushed through the Old Temple, extinguishing the guttering fires and bringing down more of the walls. There were screams and wails, but none were as loud as that which issued from his own throat. “No!”
He was running toward Liana, who had crumpled to the ground, but there were gardai everywhere and hands clutching at him, and they were bearing him down, taking him to the ground even as he fought and kicked and scratched at them. Something hard collided with his head, and the room spun once wildly around him and he could no longer see Liana and the world descended into darkness…
Brie ca’Ostheim
The carriage lurched and jounced and shivered. The ride from Stag Fall to Brezno Palais was nearly as uncomfortable a ride as any Brie had experienced, and the rain and two unhappy children made it no better. Elissa and Kriege were with her; Caelor and Eria were in the following carriage with the nursemaids. A carriage before them carried Paulus and her domestiques de chambre; those following held the rest of the staff. Gardai from the Garde Brezno rode on the horses flanking the train, miserable in the weather.
“Matarh, are we there yet?” Elissa grumbled. She stuck her head out from the nearest window but pulled it back in quickly, water beading her hair and face. Thunder grumbled at the intrusion. “I want to be there.”
“So do I, dear one,” Brie told her wearily. “Why don’t you rest, if you can? Look, your brother’s asleep. See if you can sleep like him; that’s what a good soldier does-you sleep whenever there’s a chance, because you never know how long you’ll need to stay awake.”
Elissa glanced over at the sleeping Kriege, and Brie knew she was tempted-as Elissa always was when she thought she was in competition with her brother. But she scowled. “I’m not sleepy. I just want to be home. When is Vatarh coming back? Why can’t I go with him the way Great-Matarh Allesandra went with Great-Great-Vatarh Jan?”
“Because your vatarh would send you back, and I was here to make certain you didn’t hide in the supply train like your great-matarh did, that’s why. Here, I brought a deck of cards; we can play Landsknecht; I’ll be dealer, and we can play for pins…”
They played for a time, and despite the lurching of the carriage, Brie saw Elissa’s eyelids growing heavier, until finally her cards dropped from her fingers and spilled over her lap. Brie picked them up and stored the deck in its box, setting it under the seat. She leaned her own head back against the cushions and closed her eyes.
She fell asleep faster than she thought possible, but it was a sleep haunted by dreams.
Jan stood in moonlight, arms crossed over his chest. He was in Nessantico, or at least she believed with dream-certainty that the city with its strange architecture was Nessantico. Behind Jan was the facade of a huge palais, stained glass windows cracked and broken, its walls blackened by smoke. The dream shifted, and Brie realized that there was a woman with Jan. For a moment she thought it must be Allesandra, but the hair was dark and when the figure turned slightly she saw Rhianna’s face. The two were close, yet not touching, but Brie still felt a hot surge of jealousy. Both of them stared at the palais. There was a blade in Rhianna’s hand, and she drew it back as if to strike…
… But the dream shifted again and she saw her own children, but there was another one with them. Strangely, Brie felt that all the children were siblings. The new one was a young woman perhaps four or five years older than Elissa, yet Brie couldn’t see her face at all no matter how she looked. Jan came into the room, and he went to her and embraced her, kissing first her, then Elissa. “Vatarh!” the woman said
… and Brie was holding a baby, looking down into the face of an infant. “Dear little girl,” she whispered. “You poor thing…” The baby curled its tiny fingers around one of Brie’s own and she smiled, but there were shadows in the room, and black smoke and fire, and she clutched the baby to her, trying to run. She thought she could see Jan, and she started toward him, but the fire enveloped him and she heard him scream…
“Matarh?”
Brie woke up and realized where she was, the carriage jerking and bouncing over the road. She rubbed at her eyes, dispelling the panic of the nightmare. She realized her heart was racing; she could hear the blood pounding in her temples. Elissa was looking at her; Kriege was still sleeping. “What is it, Elissa?” Brie asked her daughter.
“Why didn’t you go with Vatarh?” the girl said.