War of Souls 03: Dragons of a Vanished Moon by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

Author:Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman [Weis, Margaret & Hickman, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-05T06:00:00+00:00

causing it to pinch the fingers of another man’s hand. Odila issued a sharp rebuke. Gaidar growled a threat. The men pushed and shoved, and soon the crystal sarcophagus was in place.

Hundreds of white candles burned on the altar, probably placed there by Odila’s hands. The reflection of the candles burned in the amber, so that it seemed Goldmoon lay in the midst of a myriad tiny flames. The light illuminated her waxen face. She looked more peaceful than Gerard remembered, if such a thing were possible. Perhaps, as Mina had said, Goldmoon was pleased to be home.

Gerard wiped his sleeve across his forehead. The candles gave off a surprising amount of heat. Gerard found a seat on a bench in the back of the altar room.

He moved as quietly as he could, holding his sword to keep it from knocking against the wall. He couldn’t see very well, having stared into the candle flames, and he bumped into someone. Gerard was about to make his excuses when he saw, with a shudder, that his companion was Palin. The mage sat unmoving on the bench, stared unblinking into the candle flames.

Touching the mage’s flaccid arm was like touching a warm corpse. Feeling his gorge rise, Gerard moved hastily to another bench. He sat down, waited impatiently for the minotaur to leave.

“I will post a guard around the sarcophagus,” Gaidar stated.

Gerard muttered a curse. He hadn’t counted on that.

“No need,” Odila said. “Mina is coming to worship at the altar, and she has given orders that she is to be left alone.”

Gerard breathed more freely, then his breathing stopped altogether.

The minotaur was half-way out the door when he paused, sent a searching gaze throughout the altar room. Gerard froze in place, trying desperately to remember whether or not minotaur have good night vision. It seemed to him that Gaidar saw him, for

the beady, bovine eyes stared straight at him. He waited tensely for Gaidar to call to him, but, after a moment’s scrutiny, the minotaur walked out.

Gerard wiped away the sweat that was now running down his face and dripping off his chin. Slowly and cautiously, he edged out from the rows of benches and walked toward the front of the altar. He tried to be quiet, but leather creaked, metal rattled.

Odila was swathed in candlelight. Her face was partially turned toward him, and he was alarmed to see how thin and wasted she had grown. Riding for weeks in the wagon, doing nothing but listening to Mina’s harangues and force-feeding the mages had caused her fine muscle tone to diminish. She could probably still wield her sword, but she wouldn’t last two rounds with a healthy, battle-hardened opponent.

She no longer laughed or spoke much, but went about her duties in silence.

Gerard hadn’t liked this god before. Now he was starting to actively hate the One God. What sort of god stamped out joy and was offended by laughter? No sort of god he wanted to have anything to do with.

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