Chains of Darkness, Chains of Light (The Sundered, Book 4) by Michelle Sagara West

Author:Michelle Sagara West
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Perseus
Published: 2010-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

Jagged edges of wood and stone cut into the darkening line of sky mingled with torch. Rubble adorned the foot of the central column, which was all that remained of the tall, grand pillar that the priests had ordered carved two centuries ago. The walls had been leveled to their base, and breeze flew through them to stir the dust in gray-white clouds.

It was like this everywhere. The whole of the south wing was gone. And layered among the rubble and the broken beams were the crushed remnants of dead bodies. Here and there black robes fluttered in the wind when they were not too heavy with blood.

Lord Vellen had taken no slaves with him and was glad of it. He could not contain his expression of disbelief and horror. With great care he mounted an opening in the wall itself. His fingers came up sticky and red—he had discovered the edge of a window. The careful handwork of multihued glass, lead, and crystal was gone. He could not see even shards of it, except for the one his hand now contained. He curled his fingers around it, grimacing. The air was dust-heavy and dry, his lips were cracking, and he had not even been here long.

“High Priest?”

He did not bother to turn; the voice was an irritating chitter, but enough of the priesthood had been lost this eve. “Yes?”

“Shall I have an acolyte send for the rest of the Greater Cabal?”

“Wait my word,” he answered. He had to have time to absorb it all—and there was much damage. What had caused it? There was no sign of fire, no blackening of walls, no charring of wood, no molten rock. Nor had there been sign of lightning; such a strike would have been seen for miles.

He crossed over another body. Legs alone were exposed. But these legs were jointed and mailed—a Sword. He wondered if his weapon had ever left its sheath.

The air grew still of a sudden, and Vellen stopped his aimless wandering.

“Karrick?”

“Lord?” The voice was caught by the twist and turn of splintered stone. It did not echo as grandly as it once might have within the south hall.

“Leave me. Come back in an hour. Speak to no one yet.”

There was no answer, but none was expected, and Vellen did not so much as turn to see the acolyte bowing. He waited until the footsteps had left him alone in silence. The silence was thick and heavy, and the shadows that pooled beneath the open sky seemed thick and hazy.

“Who did this?” he asked, his voice very soft.

Sibilance twisted itself around the words that came from the darkness. “The First of the Sundered.”

“Why?” There was more in that word than many ears would dare to catch: anger, fear, and a burning hatred.

The answer to this question was not so easily delivered. Vellen cast a little spark of his personal power outward. It flew like red moth to black flame, and Sargoth became suddenly visible. He stood cloaked in

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