“Keep it lit,” she told him. “We will need it where we are going.”
“Where are we going?” he asked, fearing she would say the altar room.
“To the arena.”
She led the way through the ruins, moving swiftly and without hesitation. He noted that piles of rubble had been cleared aside, opening up previously clogged corridors.
“Did you do this work yourself, Mina?” Galdar asked, marveling.
“I had help,” she replied.
He guessed the nature of that help and was sorry he’d asked.
Unlike humans, Galdar was not disgusted to hear a temple had an open-air arena where people would come to witness blood sports. Such contests are a part of a minotaur’s heritage, used to settle everything from family feuds to marital disputes to the choosing of a new emperor. He had been surprised to find that humans considered such contests barbaric. To him, the malicious, backstabbing political intrigue in which humans indulged was barbaric.
The arena was open to the air and was visible from the highest walls of Sanction. Galdar had noted it before with some interest as being the only arena he’d ever seen in human lands. The arena was built into the side of the mountain. The floor was below ground level and filled with sand. Rows of benches, carved into the mountain’s slope, formed a semicircle around the floor. The arena was small by minotaur standards, and was in a state of ruin and decay. Wide cracks had opened up among the benches, holes gaped in the floor.
Galdar followed Mina through dusty corridors until they came to a large entryway that opened out onto the arena. Mina walked through the entryway. Galdar followed and went from dusty daylight to darkest night.
He stopped dead, blinking his eyes, suddenly afraid that he’d been struck blind. He could smell the familiar odors of the outdoors, including the sulfur of the moat of fire. He could feel the wind upon his face. He should be feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, as well, for only seconds before he had been able to see sunshine and blue sky through the cracks in the ceiling. Looking up, he saw a black sky, starless, cloudless. He shuddered all over, took an involuntary step backward.
Mina grabbed hold of his hand. “Don’t be afraid,” she said softly. “You stand in the presence of the One God.”
Considering their last meeting together, Galdar did not find reassuring the knowledge that he was in Takhisis’s presence. He was more determined than ever to leave. He had made a mistake in coming here. He had come out of love for Mina, not love for Takhisis. He did not belong here, he was not welcome.
Stairs led from the ground floor into the arena.
Mina let go of his hand. She was in haste, already hurrying down the stairs, certain he would follow. The words to say goodbye to her clogged in his throat. Not that there were any words that would make a difference. She would hate him for what he was going to do, detest him. Nothing he could say would change that. He turned to leave, turned to go back into the sunlight, even though that meant the dragons and death, when he heard Mina give a startled cry. Acting instinctively, fearing for her life, Galdar drew his sword and clattered down the stairs.
“What are you doing here, Silvanoshei? Skulking about in the shadows like an assassin?” Mina demanded.
Her tone was cold, but her voice trembled. The light of the torch she held wavered in her shaking hand. She’d been caught off-guard, taken unawares.
Galdar recognized Mina’s besotted lover, the elf king. The elf’s face was deadly pale. He was thin and wan, his fine clothes tattered, ragged. He no longer had that wasted, desperate look about him, however. He was calm and composed, more composed than Mina.
The word “assassin” and the young man’s strange composure caused Galdar to lift his sword. He would have brought it down upon the young elf’s head, splitting him in two, but Mina stopped him.
“No, Galdar,” she said, and her voice was filled with contempt. “He is no threat to me. He can do nothing to harm me. His foul blood would only defile the sacred soil on which we stand.”
“Be gone then, scum,” said Galdar, reluctantly lowering his weapon. “Mina gives you your wretched life. Take it and leave.”
“Not before I say something,” said Silvanoshei with quiet dignity. “I am sorry, Mina. Sorry for what has happened to you.”
“Sorry for me?” Mina regarded him with scorn. “Be sorry for yourself. You fell into the One God’s trap. The elves will be annihilated, utterly, finally, completely. Thousands have already fallen to my might, and thousands more will follow until all who oppose me have perished. Because of you, because of your weakness, your people will be wiped out. And you feel sorry for me?”
“Yes,” Silvanoshei said. “I was not the only one to fall into the trap. If I had been stronger, I might have been able to save you, but I was not. For that, I am sorry.” Mina stared at him, the amber of her eyes hardening around him, as if she would squeeze the life out of him.
He stood steadfast, his eyes filled with sorrow.
Mina turned away in contempt. “Bring him,” she ordered Galdar. “He will be witness to the end of all that he holds dear.”
“Mina, let me slay him—” Galdar began.
“Must you always oppose me?” Mina demanded, rounding on him angrily. “I said bring him. Have no fear. He will not be the only witness. All the enemies of the One God will be here to see her triumph. Including you, Galdar.”
Turning, she entered the door that led into the arena.
The hackles rose on the back of Galdar’s neck. His hands were wet with sweat.
“Run,” he said abruptly to the elf. “I will not stop you. Go on, get out of here.” Silvanoshei shook his head. “I stay as do you. We both stay for the same reason.” Galdar grunted. He stood in the doorway, debating, though he already knew what he would do. The elf was right. They both stayed for the same reason.
Gritting his teeth, Galdar stalked through the door and entered the arena. Glancing back to see if the elf king was following, Galdar was astonished to see another elf standing behind Silvanoshei. Ye gods, the place is crawling with them! Galdar thought.
The elf looked fixedly at Galdar, who had the sudden uneasy feeling that this elf with the young face and the old eyes could read the thoughts of his head and of his heart. Galdar didn’t like this. He didn’t trust this new elf, and he hesitated, wondering if he should go back to deal with him.
The elf stood calmly, waiting.
All the enemies of the One God will be here to witness her triumph, Assuming that this was just one more, Galdar shrugged and entered the arena. He was forced to follow the light of Mina’s torch, for he could not see her in the darkness.
31
The Battle of Sanction
The silver dragons flew low over Sanction, not bothering to use their lethal breath weapons, relying on fear alone to drive away the enemy. Gerard had flown on dragonback before, but he’d never flown into battle, and he had often wondered why any person would risk his neck fighting in the air when he could be standing on solid ground. Now, experiencing the exhilaration of a diving rush upon Sanction’s defenses, Gerard realized that he could never again go back to the heave and crush and heat of battle on land.
He yelled a Solamnic war cry as he and his Silver dived down upon the hapless defenders, not because he thought they would hear him, but for the sheer joy of the flight and the sight of his enemy fleeing before him in screaming panic. All around him, the other Knights yelled and shouted. Elven archers seated on the backs of golden dragons loosed their arrows into the throngs of soldiers trying desperately to escape the glittering death that circled above them. The river of souls swirled around Gerard, seeking to stop him, seeking to wrap their chill arms around him, submerge him, blind him. But the army of the dead was leaderless now. They had no one to give them orders, no one to direct them. The wings of the golden and silver dragons sliced through the river of souls, shredding them like the rays of the sun shred the morning mists that drift along the riverbank. Gerard saw the clutching hands and pleading mouths of the souls whirl about him. They no longer inspired terror. Only pity.