Redemption of Light (The Light Trilogy) (19 page)

CHAPTER 21

The thunderous swell of hundreds of voices penetrated Mikael’s mental haze and woke him. Cold wind gusted over his face. Blearily, he opened his eyes. They had him chained to a pink marble pillar on the broad third-floor balcony of the palace. An oval structure, tiny blue and gray tiles shimmered in the floor. A table and two chairs sat framed by two more columns on the other side of the balcony. Mikael struggled to get his shaky legs under him. An overwhelming headache pressed behind his eyes. He remembered the fight, the beating Ornias’ marines had given him when he’d tried to stay with Sybil. Where was she? And his son? … His tiny baby son.

He locked his knees and stood up straighter, forcing his legs to hold him. From far below, a frightened din rose. Mikael turned, suddenly feeling as though ants were crawling in his guts. In the gardens, a hundred Gamants stood in the rain in blood-spattered rags. They gazed up at him through wide inflamed eyes. People reached out to him pleadingly; hope and adulation creased every face. Battalions of purple-suited soldiers surrounded them, rifles clutched tightly.

“Well, well,”
a smug silken voice said from behind Mikael.

He tried to turn to look, but the chains prevented him. Not that he needed to see. That voice haunted his dreams. Mikael fixed his gaze on the masses wailing below. “How long have I been unconscious, Governor?”

The sibilant rustle of satin carried as Ornias came to stand beside him. Dressed in a maroon robe with a broad ivory sash around the waist, he seemed a kingly obscenity from another time. His sandy hair and braided beard looked darker in the slate-colored light streaming across the balcony.

“About eight hours, Mikael Calas.”

“My wife. Where is she?”

“She’s right here in the palace. She’s sleeping peacefully after her ordeal. I had my doctors give her a sedative to calm her down. I’m afraid she was quite upset by my orders.”

The unspoken words,
“orders to …
” hung like a deadly lance suspended above Mikael’s heart. “There’s no need to play games with me, Governor. What have you done?”

“Nothing yet. I’ve been waiting for the right moment. You may not have to witness it, though. I understand the shuttle dispatched by the
Sargonid
has just arrived at the landing field. They were very anxious to get their grubby hands on you.”

Ornias walked across the balcony, admiringly stroking each pink marble pillar that he passed. When he got near the edge of the structure, a foul rumble of hatred erupted from the crowd. People shook their fists and screamed profanities. A few, very few, threw themselves down on the wet grass, pleading for mercy.

Ornias turned to ask incredulously, “Do the idiots think I might save them?”

Mikael just closed his eyes. The governor’s scornful chuckle made his blood run cold. The mob shrieked louder.

“Annoying, aren’t they?” Ornias observed. “Well, no matter. They won’t be around long enough to cause me much more worry.”

Fear-sweat soaked Mikael’s torn black jumpsuit, running in cold rivulets down his chest and sides. Terror did something to a man’s scent, turned it acrid and unpleasant. His own smell stung his nostrils.

Ornias folded his arms. Conversationally, he said, “You know, I thought for the longest time that these fools believed
you
were the promised Mashiah.” He shook his head in mock self-reproach. “Silly of me, I know, but I …”

His voice trailed away as a clamor of thudding boots and shouts echoed in the palace. Sybil’s hoarse cries penetrated all the others: “No, no, give me my baby! Leave him alone!”

Mikael thrashed in his chains, screaming,
“Sybil?”

Ornias lifted a hand and a hush seemed to magically fall. The storm winds billowed in his maroon robe. To someone inside the palace, he commanded. “Bring the woman and the child. Set them here before me on the balcony.”

Mikael watched mutely as six marines pushed Sybil out on an antigrav gurney. Plutonius and another man, a doctor from the insignia on his purple epaulets, brought Nathan. His son was wrapped in a blue blanket.

“Plutonius?” Mikael gritted.

“I’d no choice!” The nostrils of his flat nose quivered. Someone had given him a purple uniform to wear. The pale dome of his bald head shone like iridescent ivory, making his cold green eyes seem to blaze. “They’d have killed me, too, if I hadn’t agreed to help them!”

“You filthy traitor,” Mikael whispered weakly.

Nathan started crying. And almost as though God had heard, a searing white flash of lightning split the dark sky, followed by a rumble of thunder which trembled through the blasphemous palace. Mikael’s chains jingled.

Plutonius gasped as the sun slashed through the thick blanket of clouds and a shaft of gold lanced the balcony, falling on Nathan like a luminescent spear.

The soldiers shuffled backward, bumping into each other in their haste. Nathan wailed shrilly, flailing his tiny fists in anger.

In a bare whisper, Mikael heard Sybil say, “Epagael, please!”

When she turned to gaze at him he felt as though Yehoshua’s ghost had risen from the blood red soils of ancient Earth and stormed across the stars to come to him. Sybil’s eyes burned like suns made to stand still in the heavens. “What’s happening, Mikael?”

He shook his head.

“You imbeciles!” Ornias’ insidious voice broke the spell. The shaft of sunlight vanished in a crack of lightning and thunder. He waved a fist at his shoulders. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen sunlight through the clouds? Morons! Have you all become Gamant converts? Doctor Aijalon,
bring me that child.”

The elderly soldier walked forward and laid the boy in Ornias’ manicured hands. The governor looked up at Mikael, then his gaze slid to Sybil. A foul smile twisted his lips.

“So this is your savior,” Ornias quipped. He turned to Plutonius and glared. “Are you certain this is the child the rebels are calling Mashiah?”

“Yes … oh, yes.” A difficult swallow went down Plutonius’ throat. He backed away a step.

“Scares you, does he, Plutonius?” Ornias shook the baby. Nathan squealed. “Yes, he is a fierce savior, isn’t he? My very bones quake at the thought that he might lift his pitiful little hand and call the wrath of God down on all of us.” He roared with laughter.

Icy sweat traced lines down Mikael’s chest. “Ornias!” Mikael shouted. “Stop this charade. Let him go. He’s just a baby. He’s no threat to you!”

“Isn’t he?” Calmly, Ornias strolled to the edge of the balcony and gazed down at the milling crowd. He scowled. “Really, Calas. Couldn’t you have provided me with a more imposing savior? It’s hardly worth my effort to crush a pathetic little wisp of flesh like this.”

“Ornias! What do you want from me? Tell me what you want!”

“You’re no longer of any use, Calas.” Ornias stroked his braided beard reflectively. “And maybe crushing the child will be impressive. After all, the title of ‘baby-killer’ has stood more than one great leader in good stead.”

“Stop it, Ornias!
Let him go!”

The governor pulled Nathan from his blanket before raising him over his head, displaying the boy to the crowd. Rain soaked the baby in cold sheets. “I give you your savior!” Ornias shouted.

The throng roared,
“Mashiah! Mashiah! Mashiah, save us!”

“Your savior!” Ornias repeated. “I hold him in my hands! What shall I do with him?”

Mikael thrashed wildly in his chains, shouting, pleading, threatening until his vocal cords ached. But his words were lost in the wailing crash of screams that burst up again from the crowd: “Save him!” “Let us have him.” “Don’t hurt him!”

But across the balcony, the Magisterial soldiers spat, “Kill him.” “The brat’s the cause of all this.” “Murder the little bastard. That’ll take the fight out of these rebels!”

Omias lifted a brow at his marines. “Bloodthirsty louts, aren’t you? I suppose the baby frightens you, too, eh?”

In tones deep with mockery, he lifted his voice to the crowd, chanting ancient phrases, a prophecy every Gamant knew, words that announced the beginning of the end of Creation and had been burned into their souls from birth:

“Rejoice, sons and daughters of Seir!

Shout aloud, Gamant people!

See now, your King comes to you.

His cause is won. His victory is gained!”

Ornias fell into uncontrollable laughter, greatly amused by the irony of his words. He lowered Nathan and hugged him to his chest in bogus affection. Nathan grabbed a handful of Ornias’ maroon robe and stopped crying. He stared up through sightless newborn eyes, as though seeing beyond this day to a calm and serene future. Ornias’ face tightened. His laughter burst forth again, but this time it sounded forced.

“He will banish the bow of war!

He will proclaim peace for the nations.

His empire shall stretch from sea to sea, from the River of Fire to the ends of the universe.”

He lifted Nathan again, callously jerking the baby’s fingers away from the maroon robe.

“Ornias,” Mikael called. “Don’t do this! I beg you. Kill me, but—”

“Don’t be foolish,” Ornias purred. “Your life means nothing. But this boy’s …” In a velvet smooth move, Ornias spun around and pulled a pistol from a guard’s holster.

A wretched scream rent the murky day. At first Mikael didn’t recognize that horrified voice. But, then, in shock, his gaze shot to Sybil. She’d pushed herself up on her gurney, bracing herself on her elbows. Long, blood-matted brown hair fell in waves over her wounded chest. She shook all over, as though possessed by a deadly palsy. She wailed and wailed, screaming a garbled word which could have only been Mikael’s name.

He responded by insanely screaming,
“NO! NO! Governor, please! Stop! Don’t do this!”

Before the sound had died on Mikael’s lips, Ornias gripped Nathan by his tiny arm and flung him over the balcony railing. For a terrible, terrible moment, time stood still. Nathan seemed to hover, his tiny form silhouetted against the deep crimson of the storm-soaked cliffs, his naked body shimmering in the rain.

Ornias aimed his pistol.

A white fire, like a stiletto’s blade, plunged between Mikael’s ribs. His heart seemed to labor, throbbing as though it would burst. He bent forward, trying to catch his breath as he watched his son fall. The crowd below gasped and a wild howl of disbelief and anger rose.

Then …

From nowhere, everywhere, a single note, like the blare of a trumpet rang out. It began low, hanging in the misty air, then built to a shattering climax that slashed apart the very foundations of the palace. Ornias’ gun wavered.

Mikael gasped as a gaping black hole swirled out of nothingness, swallowing his tumbling son before Nathan struck the ground. The crowd in the garden scattered. Covering their heads, they ran for the trees, the palace, any shelter. And through the maw, Rachel Eloel walked, her long ebony hair whipping about her shoulders. She wore a shimmering ivory robe and her eyes blazed like midnight moons.

The marines on the balcony screamed and fled, racing into the palace. The clacking of their boots across the marble floors pounded like the staccato of discharging rifles.

Ornias dropped his pistol and stumbled backward, slamming into the railing.
“Rachel?”
he whispered in utter terror.

She stepped out of the void and picked up the pistol. The black maw spun closed behind her. For several moments, she simply turned the pistol over and over in her hand. “Yes, Ornias. Did you think I’d died? No. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

“Guards!” Ornias shouted wildly. “Guards… ?”

But no one came.

In a weak tear-choked voice, Sybil called, “Mama? Mama, I missed you so much. Where’s my son? Where’s Nathan?”

Rachel swiftly went to Sybil and hugged her tightly as she stroked her tangled brown hair. “I missed you, too, baby. Forgive me. I’ve been preparing a way for you and Mikael. Save your strength. Tomorrow is going to be worse. Epagael isn’t finished with us yet.”

“Rachel?” Mikael said. “Can you get these shackles off me? The guards were stunned. They’ll be back. Please. We have to hurry.” He shook the hands chained over his head.

Ebony hair blew around her face as she shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Mikael shouted in rage and fear.

“Because you must get on that battle cruiser, Mikael.”

“You’re turning me over to the Magistrates?” he demanded in unreasoning terror.
“Why?”

Her dark eyes softened and she looked away, out to the shimmering veils of rain that caressed the maroon ridges. “It’s necessary.”

“But they’ll kill him!” Sybil screamed. “Mama, let him go! Free him!”

Rachel didn’t respond. She lifted her gaze to Ornias. A smiled curled her mouth—a frightening expression frosted with madness. As though walking on clouds, she moved forward. “Do you remember, Ornias,” she questioned in a soft threatening voice, “when you marched Sybil and me to the square? I can still smell the stench of the thousands you crowded into that public gathering place. Do you remember when you ordered the guards to open fire on us? People ran insanely, trying to get away.” She lifted her pistol.