Page 108 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
An anointer stands beside Corrin’s prone body. The crime lord is breathing heavily, and with each exhale a fresh dribble of blood flows from his wound. I notice the senior cleric has one foot placed on the edge of Corrin’s sleeve, the toe of his boot almost crushing the crime lord’s fingers, as if the anointer doesn’t even notice he’s there.
“Surrender,” the anointer shouts, “and we will allow you to be cleansed before you meet your fate. Refuse, and we’ll send you to the Gloamlands like the heretics you are.”
It seems impossible for so many of them to be here so fast…unless someone tipped them off that we were coming. That’s what it is. Someone betrayed us. It would explain why the other group’s diversion failed.
“Just keep him talking for a moment longer.”
I glance at Leon, letting him know I heard his thought, then I step forward, holding my hands up to show I am unarmed. I slip off my glamour ring, revealing my true features.
“I am Morgana Angevire, daughter of Queen Elowen Angevire, and rightful ruler of Trova,” I say. It sounds pretentious as hell, even to me, but Leon told me to stall. As it is, several clerics take a step back after I identify myself, and I feel a perverse stab of satisfaction. They’re afraid of the big bad heretic.
Beneath my feet, I feel a slight rumbling.
“Your offer is certainly a tempting one, sir,” I say to the anointer, pausing to check that the rumbling is indeed growing louder.
“But there’s the small matter of you wanting to murder those children.”
The clerics start looking around them for the source of the noise.
“And so I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,” I finish. By now, the ground is shaking hard enough that windows in the nearest building rattle.
“Get back,”Leon orders, and I throw myself toward the carriage as the ground splits open and half the street falls away.
The air fills with screams as clerics plummet into the abyss. The sound of their bodies hitting the bottom of the chasm below melds with the fizz of aesteri magic and the thud of flying dirt. The rift Leon’s opened must be about fifteen feet wide, but there were several clerics who realized what was happening in time to save themselves.
While they try to scramble to safety, members of the escort rush forward to help them. I watch an empty-eyed cleaver use one cleric’s outstretched hand to heave himself up over the edge of the crumbling dirt. He doesn’t blink as his savior loses balance and tumbles over the edge.
Then the cleaver turns his black eyes toward me, and I ready my sun beams.
I take the cleaver out first, grateful that my magic is faster than his. Then I focus on covering Leon, orbiting weapons away from him and hitting anyone trying to cast in his direction, giving him the chance to run deep cracks beneath the feet of the remaining clerics, forcing them to separate and scatter.
I try to keep track of the battle as I go, but it’s nearly impossible. The rebels and clerics clashing around me just merge into a blur, and I can’t afford to get overwhelmed by the screams of the injured and dying, the smell of iron in the air and the crimson slickness of the cobbles beneath my feet. I have to block all of that out and focus on doing what I can for as long as I can.
I don’t know if we’re making progress or if the clerics and cleavers are chipping away at us. All I know is that Leon took out enough of our enemies with that chasm that we stand a chance. But we’re in Qimorna—a city full of Caledon’s followers—and the longer we’re stuck in this fight, the more of them will come for us, like waves in an ocean.
If we’re not careful, eventually, we’ll get washed away by the tide.
CORRIN
The sky is very blue here, and the sun is very bright. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before. It’s hard to get a clear day in Hallowbane because of all the smog. Amazing, really, to think that just a little further south, the sky opens up like this, stretching into an endless, brilliant blue.
No, not quite endless, because there’s darkness hovering at the edges of it. A soft, welcoming night that has something to do with the pain in my stomach. It’s hard to focus on it, especially with all this noise. Can’t they keep it down? All that screaming and banging is enough to give a man a headache.
I frown, because I have a nagging feeling there’s something I should be doing. It’s very important, and the longer I lie here, the worse it will be.
“Corrin! Corrin!”
Is that someone calling my name? They sound upset. I try to answer, but when I open my mouth, my throat catches on the word, and I cough up something wet that tastes like metal.
“Corrin!” A woman appears above me, with brown skin and dark hair. She’s beautiful, like a warrior goddess fallen from the celestial kingdom.
Beautiful, and angry. She’s glaring down at me with bright green eyes.
“Corrin Wadestaff, you listen to me. You arenotallowed to die.”
My frown deepens. That seems like a rather unreasonable request. Especially when the darkness is so welcoming.
“I mean it, you idiot. Focus on me, tell me my name.”
