Chapter 28 #2
The smallest of flames soared, striking and sputtering out against the priest’s bare ankle.
Giving an undignified yelp, the priest smacked at the burn with his opposite foot.
Shaking it off, the priest opened his mouth to continue, but another fiery ember caught against his nape, scorching skin and leaving his hair smoking as it burned out.
His hand hit against his neck, eyes wild as he searched the crowd.
“Who is doing this? Show yourself,” he demanded, leaning over the railing.
But the crowd was silent, nervously looking amongst each other and the silent golden statues.
His voice bounced within the shining domed temple.
“Which of you can command fire? Speak now.” The priest loomed angrily from atop the dais, and the acolytes surged around the edges of the benches, hunting for the guilty party.
Whispers ran through the people now, wary glances shooting left and right.
“Who besmirches this holy temple and its keeper?” The high priest was relentless, spittle coming off his pale lips.
Drops of fire fell through the air, singeing the circle of space all around him, and a nervous ripple went through the crowd. Benches creaked as people shifted uneasily, clothes rustling, and sandals shuffling against the floor. The acolytes’ heavy pacing footsteps only added to the tension.
One brave voice sounded above the others. “What if it’s the one true god?”
The tension in the air became thick and heady, people twisting in their seats to stare at the high priest in suspicion. A fallen star in his pale gold robes, he tried to take back the room, afraid of the crowd turning against him.
“I am the mouthpiece, protector, and keeper of this mortal home for the god of the undead gods. He does not strike against me.”
There was a great whoosh, and every oil painting in the room went up in flames, crackling and billowing colorful smoke.
“The true god has spoken!”
“This house is cursed!”
“Look!” shrieked a woman in the front row, pointing as she leapt to her feet.
Fire surrounded the dais, trapping the high priest but not touching him, the flames rising higher until his face could scarcely be seen.
People fled, and the acolytes did not stop them, most of them tripping after the crowd, hoping to escape. The flames held their circle, and over the din of stampeding feet and upturned benches boomed a deep voice.
“Today, this house will fall. Leave or perish.”
The flames shot high and then extinguished. The high priest sprinted, shoving people out of his way left and right as he made for the doors. In minutes, the entire temple was empty.
Elysia slid out of the arched hallway entrance she’d been watching from and called to the rafters. “I do love an exciting first half! Are we ready to bring it home?”
Feet plunked against the out-of-sight scaffolding as the men lowered themselves down to the ground. Rollie grimaced as he dropped the last few feet, but successfully navigated that terror on his own this time.
Standing in front of the dais, all three veiled or masked and wearing the robes of the acolytes, they reconvened. Elysia was about to ask Rollie if he was ready, when the temple doors were thrown open and the priest along with a herd of acolytes stormed back in.
“I swear it’s him and I’m going to prove it,” the high priest was seething. Embarrassment had a special way of bringing out the worst in men, and Elysia could see in his eyes that he was determined to mete out the pain of his incompetence against them.
Elysia slipped in front of two of her oldest friends, giving them a passing squeeze. “Go,” she ordered. Turning back to the oncoming rage of robed men, she slowly drew out a veil pin and dropped it to the ground.
A line of fire erupted before her feet, halting the priest and his acolytes in their tracks. The priest crashed to a stop, teetering dangerously over the flames and flinging out his arms to hold off those behind him. Elysia continued to unwind her veil and smiled.
Sachets and igniters in hand, she greeted them.
“I heard you wanted to meet me. Here I am.” She laughed darkly and slipped into a mocking curtsy.
Dipping her head of dark brown waves in their direction, she lowered her voice.
“He might live, but I still gutted the King of Kava. Did you really think you could hold me?”
“Your king will be the ruin of us all with his backward ways,” the priest spat back, pushing against the line of fire.
Elysia nodded and rolled the igniters in her sweaty palm.
“This is true, and for that I will give you a choice. First option, go back the way you came and get as far from this building as you can, and no harm will come to you or any of your people. Two, you give chase because you’re a greedy, fraudulent fool, and I won’t feel a shred of remorse over what comes next. ”
She spun, not waiting for an answer, smashing igniters into the angry line of fire, making it lash out viciously as she raced to a back exit of the temple.
Hurling herself through the door, she chucked more igniters at the sachets she had placed earlier, explosions going off to her left and right, debris flying through the air.
Elysia dared a glance back and swore. The priest and two men were gaining on her.
She pumped her arms, begging her legs to move faster.
Now that she had given the cue, and the building was evacuated, Rollie and Topp would execute the mass demolition of the temple.
Her only job was to escape with her life intact.
Elysia sprinted down the sandy street, blue robes billowing as she tumbled in and out of people.
There was a small bay not too far from the temple.
Muscles burning, she pounded on in the direction of the water.
The boys knew she could travel. She hadn’t mentioned the need for a body of water to reach the death realms. If all else failed, she could escape to somewhere in the mortal lands.
Tearing around a corner, Elysia came to a staggering halt.
There was a line of acolytes between her and the bay.
How did they get there? She dared a glance back, her stomach sinking as her pursuers came into view.
She couldn’t use any of her explosives in this crowded of an area—not without injuring or killing civilians.
Change of plans. She pictured the Bone Temple, the one place that would always be safe for her in the mortal realm.
And nothing happened.
Panicked, she tried again.
The head priest laughed as they closed in. “Problem leaving? Gerald here is a blocker. You’re not going anywhere, you Kavian scum.”
Gritty resolve replaced her fear. Her hand slipped between her robes, drawing out her dagger. She’d meant it when she said they couldn’t hold her. That over-groomed, prissy priest had another thing coming if he thought he could fight her.
Surrounded, Elysia, met the high priest’s red, enraged gaze. Dirt and sweat smeared his temples, and he lifted one trembling finger to stick at her face. “Seize her.”
No less than ten acolytes fell upon her as the people milling about the market stared in confusion.
Clenching her teeth, she ducked and sliced and fought.
While they may have been trained in combat in their youth, they were now out of shape and used to the luxurious life of the temple.
She slowly picked her way through them. The head priest watched as it came down to her and two final acolytes.
She moved lightly on her feet, ready to end it, when one of the men threw out his hand in a fit of violent temper.
“Enough of this barbaric nonsense.”
A blood-curdling scream released from her mouth. Collapsed in the dirt, the bones from her ankle to her knee hung strangely. Tears streaked down her face, but she clawed upright, still clutching her dagger, swiping at anyone who came near.
The bone-worker growled. “Cut me again, and I’ll snap every last bone you’ve got.”
Furious with pain, a filter of black haze overcame her vision.
Elysia’s magic roared, flooding and bursting through the dam of her body, hungry for the bone-breaking power torrenting out of the acolyte.
In her mindless fury, there was no thought or choice.
There was only self-protection and defense.
This wasn’t the soft, beautiful magic that had occurred on the riverbank.
It was the long-buried instinct of a powerful but untrained woman lashing out.
Elysia seized the man’s power and ripped until it became hers.
Unable to hold or form what she had stolen, she pointed the javelin of force back at its owner.
The cracking and shattering of his bones became the song that drove her on.
His shrieks layered with the bass of breaking bones until he became silent, his body overcome and no longer conscious.
Dagger still up high, her body wavered as her sight grew unfocused. Whatever she had just done was far beyond her magical capacity. Fingers unable to hold it, the dagger thudded to the sandy ground, and her body slumped as everything went dark.
Elysia came in and out of consciousness, her skin tearing and body thumping as she was dragged the many blocks back to the temple.
Maybe this is what the fates wanted. Eyes bleary, she blinked them open to find the sky dark and the streets lit with both flaming torches and the occasional floating orbs.
Even in the firelight, she could see how her ankle flopped limply while the burn of road rash stung the bottoms of her legs and arms.