Donald Aamodt - Zarathandra 01 by A Name to Conjure With

Author:A Name to Conjure With
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-06-05T14:14:55+00:00

16

THE Goddess wrapped a mantle of gossamerlike black silk about her shadowy form and walked the moonstone path to the Pool of Gygongarian. She sat on the low wall surrounding the pool, a wall of dark-green jade inset with serpentine patterns in silver, and looked into the water.

Here was stored what had been, from just the last instant to the beginnings of creation. The Goddess pictured Sandy and Zhadnoboth in her mind and called for a recreation of the events just past. The pool responded to her will and began by showing the sorcerer plucking three hairs from Sandy’s head. Then at a slow dreamlike pace events unfolded, up to the moment Zhadnoboth proved they were not under observation. The images in the gently undulating medium were sharp but tiny, as though seen through a telescope located a million miles or more away.

The Goddess watched the explosion of the stone-souled one and its aftermath. Exultation and a kind of dread lay side by side in her inmost being as she watched. Before, only her mind had known Sandy was the one foretold. Now her soul also knew. When the magic mirror had shattered and death had come she had felt the jolt through her whole being. She had so much to gain, much more than even her cherished revenge, but there was a price to pay. Even so, the price was almost a gift to her.

The Goddess turned her thoughts to the adventure and the four who were undertaking it. Fate was rolling the dice, and she could feel destiny shifting. More in her favor all the time. Her plans were working out to near perfection, even mishaps like Zhadnoboth rousing the morzikkan-tam working in her favor. For a moment she worried—Was fate going too much her way? Destiny could and had taken some surprise turns.

She mused about her champions. The chosen four were nearly perfect. Zhadnoboth knew enough to get the cauldron boiling, but not enough to be wise and back off. Pognak and Uskban had the fury which would provide the spark. And, most important, Sandy was becoming the sword she needed.

He had changed in the short time he had been in Zarathandra. At first he had been mostly unrealized potential—a man with qualities, but one who didn’t bother to use them. He was harder now, both physically and mentally—and a taste of death had made him subconsciously more aware of the spiritual realm most mortals didn’t know they were part of. Someday, if he and she survived this venture, Sandy might be quite formidable. He was like a late developing wine, unremarkable tasted young—but tasted at full maturity…

The Goddess laughed and turned to the faraway darkness which was Kels Zalkri. “Watch your shadow, dark one. Maybe your doom is stalking you and you know it not.”

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