Halls of Shadow (Kingdoms of Sand Book 5) by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Moonclipse
Published: 2017-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

MAYA

In the beginning, there was light from darkness.

The words filled Maya's mind, the first words from the Luminous Writ, the words she had inscribed in a house across the desert. She had learned to master the light in that house. And here in Beth Eloh, the well of luminous grace, she found her greatest darkness, and she faced her greatest test.

In the beginning, there was light from darkness.

Light—the beginning. The dawn. The rise of compassion, consciousness, senses. In the beginning—light from darkness. Here in shadows, she found dawn after dawn, beginning after beginning. With every dying man, with every hand that clutched hers in desperation, with every eye that gazed in pain, she deconstructed herself. She returned to the beginning. To that purity. To the chaos that had reigned before the world had begun. And into those shadows, she brought light.

For days she toiled here, dancing with the gray-faced man. With every ill soldier, she reached inside and saw him there. With every body of flesh, she fought him in the light and shadow. A man in black robes. A man with furrowed gray skin. Leering at her. Dancing with her. Battling her. Reaching out bloodred claws. The brighter she shone her light the darker he grew, larger, looming before her. Sometimes she cast him back, expelling him from the ill. Other times he shattered her, and Maya fell, gasping for breath over a corpse. Bed by bed, ill by ill, she danced with the gray-faced man, the adversary of Eloh, the shadow under the light.

"Maya," said Abishag, voice soft, hands reaching to her. "You must rest. I promised your brother that I would make you rest."

Maya wanted to refuse, wanted to keep fighting. How could she rest when the fate of a nation rested on her shoulders? But she was weary. She was nothing but weariness. She was raw, dry skin clinging to weariness. She nodded. Abishag took her hand, led her out from the house of healing, and they walked along the streets of Beth Eloh.

"I know a place where we can rest," said Abishag.

A flaming arrow sailed overhead and skidded across the roof of a building. Another arrow hit the road only a few paces away. They kept walking, leaving the wall farther behind, delving into the crowded city streets. Arches rose overhead, connecting the rows of houses and shops, all formed from the same craggy bricks. Awning and balconies hid all but shreds of sky. Even as they headed farther from the battle, the chants of the legions still rose behind them, rolling over the city. We come! We see! We kill! The sounds of prayer rose all around them: the people of Beth Eloh begging for forgiveness from God. Thousands clogged these streets—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, perhaps a full million. It was a sea of humanity trapped within this stone shell.

"Behold, the wrath of Eloh descends upon you in the form of eagles!" cried a prophet on a balcony, clad in a loincloth, his white beard flowing down his chest.

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