An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) (71 page)

“I’ve noticed that before.”

Anapiel smiled, lazily flipping the ends of the golden sash around his waist. “Well, you won’t have to worry about it much longer. But I do wonder how Epagael’s going to manage getting you out of here. You being dead and all.’

“A minor point, I’d think, for God.”

“Oh, no, I assure you, it’s a major point, Zadok. While the energy that defines you can travel unhindered through the gate, you have no receptacle to return to.
I wonder where Epagael’s going to
put
you?”
Anapiel chuckled gleefully. “Then again, maybe he’ll leave you ‘in-between,’ eh? Your own private purgatory? I’d pay to see that.”

“You irritate me to death, Anapiel, did you know that? You’re almost as bad as Sedriel.”

The angel flapped his wings indignantly. “Don’t be insulting, patriarch.”

Zadok forced his ancient legs to move faster. The roar of the River of Fire grew louder with each step and he could faintly glimpse the shimmering white of the Veil.

“Anapiel, why don’t you go find something productive to do? There must be a latrine somewhere that needs your personal attention.”

The angel glowered. “You’re lucky I’m not God, Zadok.”

“We’re
all
lucky you’re not God.”

Anapiel sighed and bowed jauntily. “Very well. I’ll let you go alone to Mount Moriah. But Avram took companions, if you’ll recall.”

“He had people around that he trusted.”

Anapiel chuckled. “Well, then …” He turned and strode back toward the doors of the palace, his soft laughter echoing eerily from the orange walls.

Zadok clenched his fists, trotting forward as quickly as he could. Moriah? The place at which Epagael tested Avram’s faith? The Father of the people had faced four great crises in his life, each involving the surrender of something precious.

Zadok steeled himself for the worst—
the loss of his people.
His knees trembled by the time he reached the River of Fire.

“Lord? Lord, I’ve come. Please, let me see the Veil?”

From out of the black whirlwind, God’s soothing voice issued. “Zadok, blessed servant, of course. Cross.”

The searing heat from the river turned to a cool breeze and Zadok rushed across the bridge to stand awkwardly on the white tiles before the curtain that shielded the throne of God. His skin prickled with the energy of God’s presence.

“The Veil.” It stretched like a long satin sheet, fluttering gently in the cool breeze sweeping the crystal palace. He hurried for the end.

“The time is at hand, Zadok. The final battle of Light and Dark threatens even at this moment. Aktariel’s forces are poised for attack.”

“So I’ve gathered from your arrogant angels, Lord.” Zadok dropped to his knees to read the tiny words written at the base of the Veil. His eyes widened involuntarily, throat constricting as he read. He scrambled, crawling to read the remainder. “No. Epagael, No!
You mustn’t let this happen!”

“You may be able to avert it, Zadok. I don’t know.”

He got to his feet, bracing a hand against the cool white Veil to steady himself. “Tell me what I must do.”

“Zadok, Zadok, it will require a great sacrifice on your part. For I cannot send you back to your universe.”

My Mount Moriah,
“Then how can I help, Lord?” He shouted, spreading his arms wide. “Surely you won’t let my people die because I can’t go home?”

The black whirlwind churned violently, God’s voice resounding like thunder. “What will you give to save your universe—your people?”

“Anything!”

“Indeed, patriarch?
Good”

CHAPTER 45

Sybil stood anxiously, spreading her feet across the sandstone to brace herself against the cold wind. Far below, raging fires rolled over Seir, starlight glowing from billowing clouds of smoke. Fifty or more monks crowded around her, murmuring in fear to each other. She studied them cautiously. If they were so frightened, maybe things weren’t going as well as Petran had told her? The short bald monk, Harper’s friend, patted her head uneasily. He didn’t really like little girls, she could tell. He never held her warmly or played with her.

“Petran?” she shouted into the wind. “When can I go see my mom?”

He leaned down, timidly squeezing her hand. “Soon.”

She searched his pale face, catching the hesitation, the tightly pressed lips, and knowing of a sudden that he’d lied to her. He had no idea when she’d get to see her mother … or … or if she would.

She jerked a nod and, brushing brown hair from her eyes, looked back to the city. Inside her chest, a hollow place grew.

“Captain,” Macey informed. “I have the councilman.”

“On screen, Lieutenant.”

Ornias’ tanned face formed, a gloating smile creasing his lips. Dressed regally in a gold silk robe, he stood in an underground chamber, red stone gleaming darkly in candlelight. “Greetings, Captain. I understand the Magistrates have considered my offer?”

Tahn rubbed his chin. At her console, Halloway made a small noise that sounded like a subvocal curse. The rest of his bridge crew sat rigid, eyes glued to the screen, some with fists clenched.

“Let’s get this on the table quickly, councilman. The Magistrates say no to your request for Grinlow. However, they will up the reward for Baruch to five billion notes. Do you accept or reject?”

The councilman’s face tensed, lime green eyes going hard. “Five billion is hardly enough to—”

“Yes, or no.”

“You don’t mind if I think about for a short time, do you, Captain?”

“I’ll give you five minutes. In the meantime,
put Baruch on. I want to see him.
”

Ornias inclined his head cooperatively and waved a hand. Tahn’s stomach muscles went tight as a tall muscular blond with fierce blue eyes was shoved in front of the screen. Two men in gray suits clutched his arms. Bound with his hands behind his back, the blond lifted his bearded chin defiantly. A sheen of sweat matted his hair to his forehead and temples.

“Baruch.”

“Tahn.”

They stared at each other, taking one another’s measure. A curious sensation tormented Tahn. He’d often dreamed of sitting down with the man over a few glasses of rye and talking strategy—or landing a few fists. “You’ll be treated well, Baruch. I give you my word.”

“Until you get me to the next neurophysiology center.”

“Nonetheless—”

“Did you give your word to the innocent victims on Kayan? Or Pitbon?”

The hostile tone rankled, the words like salt in his wounds. “I wasn’t at Pitbon.”

“No? How about Jumes or Wexlen? I
know
you were there.”

Tahn looked up slowly, adrenaline flooding his system. Baruch had pulled brilliant maneuvers at both, slipping through his fingers before he knew what had happened. “Councilman?” he called, indicating the discussion with Baruch was over.

The two guards tried to drag Baruch out of range of the monitor but he struggled violently, shouting, “Tahn!
Tahn, damn you!
What are your orders for Horeb? You told your shuttle pilot to get out of orbit. If these people turn me over,
what are you going to do?”

The guards succeeded in hauling him away. Ornias stepped in front of the screen, smiling insincerely. He opened his mouth to speak and Tahn growled, “Get off screen, Councilman. I’ve decided I’m not finished with Baruch.”

“How dare you—”

Tahn leaped from his seat, shouting in rage, “Get off screen!”

Ornias ground his teeth but he bowed stiffly, giving the monitor back to Baruch. The Underground leader’s bearded face showed strain and fear, his breathing shallow.

“Baruch … I have Prime Mover orders.”

“Level two? Or one?”

“One.”

Baruch exhaled haltingly. “This planet is composed of red sandstone. Do you know you’re going to raise a wave that looks like a sea of blood?”

“Irrelevant.”

“… Time until initiation?”

“Carey?”

She pinned him with cold green eyes, slapping a button on her console. “Fifty minutes.”

“Copy, Baruch?”

“Tahn …” The man’s blue eyes glimmered imploringly, though his voice stayed hard, steady. “There are a few ships here that might be able to sustain systems until help arrives. If they—”

“I won’t attack fleeing refugees. My orders are for the planet alone.”

“Thanks for the crumbs from the Magistrates’ table. I’ll inform the people here.”

Tahn anxiously tapped his thumb against his arm. “Councilman? What is your decision regarding our offer.”

The manicured politician appeared again, face filling the screen. He glanced uncomfortably at Baruch, then back to Tahn. “What, Captain, is Prime Mover?”

“Yes or no,
Councilman. Be quick about it.”

“Well, under the curious circumstances, I accept. But I want it known I object to the heavy-handed—”

“I’ll notify the Magistrates. Prepare Baruch for transport. One of our shuttles will be at your spaceport to retrieve him in exactly thirty minutes.” He sighed, “Cut it, Macey.”

The screen blanked and he clamped his jaw hard. Halloway swung around in her chair, cocking her head like an eagle with a mouse in sight.

“What is it, damn it?” he asked brusquely.

“Request permission to send wide-beam dattran regarding status of Horebian survivors, sir.”

“Wide-beam?
Have you lost your mind?”

“No, sir. I want to alert any merchant vessels in the vicinity to alter their course. It might just save—”

“You’re developing suicidal tendencies, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir.” Her fingers drummed an irregular staccato against the white console. “The message?”

God damn it. A wide beam signal might bring Baruch’s own forces down on the
Hoyer.
And she knew it just as well as he did. It might also save thousands of Gamant lives.

“Macey,” he ordered, still holding Halloway’s challenging gaze. “Send wide-beam dattran regarding status of Horeb, then notify Defense to have a full contingent in Transportation immediately. I want Marc Simons at the helm of the shuttle going for Baruch. Tell him to expect
anything.”

Carey lowered her eyes, swinging back around to her console.

Macey glanced sideways at her and asked, “Shall I inform the Magistrates of Councilman Ornias’ decision, too, sir?”

“Yes. And tell them …” He filled his lungs with air, staring hollowly at the blank screen. “Tell them I earnestly request two weeks off-duty time on Lopsen.”

“Yes, sir.” A smile curled his communications officer’s mouth. Instantly, the com aura glowed around his head.

Tahn walked toward the door, feeling hot from the adrenaline still searing his veins. “Halloway,” he said almost as an afterthought. “Please accompany me to Transportation to meet Baruch.”

“On my way.”

She got up quickly and followed him into the tube. Once inside, she gave him a level look. “Thanks for the widebeam authorization. And I appreciate the way you freed us from firing on fleeing civilians.”

“Did you think I did it for you?”

Her eyes narrowed, gaze going through him like a coherent beam. “No. I thought you did it m penance for the guilt that’s suffocating you.”

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and leaned heavily against the wall. “Damn you, Carey.”

Jeremiel strained against the cuffs around his wrists, panic making his hands tremble. He’d seriously thought the Magistrates might call off the attack if it looked like Horeb was cooperating by turning him over.
Fool. Damn fool. They want the death of your civilization. They’ll take every opportunity they can to kill Gamants.

How long did he have left? Fifteen minutes? Where the hell was Harper?

“Councilman. You haven’t much time. A Prime Mover Level One attack means complete devastation of the central portion of a planet down to a depth of one hundred feet. If you expect anyone to—”

“You mean a scorch attack?” Ornias whispered, eyeing his guards anxiously.

“Yes. Tahn will make sure nothing survives.”

The six guards shifted nervously, standing stiffly at intervals along the red cave walls. Without Harper, he could do nothing. If he made a break for the door, would they kill him? In the corner, Rathanial and Shassy shared a tearful reunion, murmuring softly to each other. They’d be in the line of fire if the guards missed. He contemplated that fact briefly, but decided their lives weren’t worth the number of people in his forces who’d die if the Magistrates probed his mind. He edged for the door.

“Don’t even think about it, Baruch,” Ornias said sternly, stopping in mid-stride before a long table stacked high with priceless vases. His gold robe shimmered in the candlelight. “My guards have orders
not
to kill you under any circumstances, but they can certainly maim you and the Magistrates will still have your brain to play with.”