This, though, was all her imagining, and by the time she could see the Chapel once more, she realised she might never know.
Those souls belonging to Redigor's Ur'Raney Court had already found their homes, slipping into the bodies of Katherine Makennon and the other dignitaries as easily as worms into soft soil, and the effects on their hosts was immediate. Soft groans escaped each of them. Their eyes widened in response to the intrusion, then took on a peculiar blankness. This faded away, to be replaced by new eyes that took in their surroundings first with an almost childlike innocence, then a growing curiosity, and then a hunger unlike any Kali had ever seen.
They began to metamorphosise — ever so slightly but enough — taking on the slightest sharpening of their physiognomy, a subtle elongation of the ears, and the lightest of green tints to their skin. Kali could also have sworn — but this may only have been because of the manner in which they carried themselves — that they grew taller.
With almost reptilian twitches of their necks, each of the Ur'Raney rannaat sighed and, as one, turned to face Bastian Redigor. Their Lord stood smiling at them, a welcoming smile, his mu'sah'rin already draping herself languorously about his neck.
"Hooper…" Slowhand's voice said weakly from above Kali. "This might be the time for that 'long shot' you mentioned to Freel."
Kali said nothing.
"Hooper, the long shot?"
This time, Kali bit her lip.
"Hooper, you do have a long shot, right?"
Don't ask me that, Liam, don't ask, Kali thought.
What was it she had said to Freel, back in the Sardenne — I tend to work on the hoof? Well, she wasn't on the hoof now, was she, she was on her backside, collapsed helpless against a wall, and it didn't look like her long shot was going to be materialising at all.
"Sure, Liam. I'll ask Baz to stop, shall I? Get him to send his people home to Kerberos?"
A drop of blood fell from the archer, and he spoke slowly, quietly. "They have no home other than the hells, you know that. They don't belong on Kerberos and they don't belong here. Hooper, come on, you always have something up your sleeve…"
"Not this time. I'm sorry."
"Kali…"
"Not this time!"
Shocked, Slowhand stared down at her. But Kali was not looking up and all he saw was the top of her head.
"Kal," he said. "We've all lost people close to us, and we know how much that hurt. Now that's about to happen again, only on a massive scale. As I see it, as soon as that pillar disappears, they've lost their loved ones for ever, but so long as it's there we have a chance to bring them back… somehow."
Kali's eyes slowly rose to the base of the pillar of souls, still emptying itself of the last dregs of Ur'Raney souls. What the archer said was true — while that pillar still existed, there might still be time to save them somehow, to bring them back, for something to happen — no matter how much of a long shot it might be.
"Hooper," Slowhand said. "You're the only one who can do this…"
"I know," Kali whispered to herself.
"What?"
"I said, I know!" Kali shouted, picking herself from the floor. Between her and Redigor, the rannaat, who were just about to move away from their tombs, turned at her defiant cry. She uttered a primal roar as she ran along the aisle to launch herself at the Pale Lord. The rannaat looked almost amused, and looked to their Lord for guidance. Redigor, looking less amused, shook his head.
Kali pounded towards him, beads of sweat falling from her.
"Enough," Redigor said. "You are a meddlesome pain, child. I could easily strip your soul and take your body for my collection, but I do not believe I wish to keep either."
Redigor's arm shot out and he curled his fingers. Kali found herself halting in her tracks and collapsing to her knees with a cry of agony as something seemed to close around her heart and pull. She looked down, her mouth falling open in shock and pain. Whisps of light were being drawn from within her. As he had with so many before her, Bastian Redigor was extracting her soul — and doing so, it seemed, in as slow and as agonising fashion as he could.
"Hey," Kali uttered between clenched teeth, "that just isn't fair…"
"And since I do not wish to keep your soul, child," Redigor continued, ignoring her. "Why don't I simply tear it out?"
The elven sorcerer jerked his outstretched hand again and Kali wailed with pain. Though she remained on her knees, she was bent backwards, her spine and neck arched like a bow, throat taut, mouth stretched open as far as it would go. The light poured from her and across the Chapel to Redigor's fingertips. There the Pale Lord breathed in deeply and with satisfaction, as if he were drinking her.
Kali groaned. The more her soul was drawn from her, the more agonising it became. She was struggling desperately now to hang onto the last of her being, but she was fighting a losing battle. Her vision darkening, her thoughts dimming, feeling as though she were adrift in some dark expanse, she was only peripherally aware of a shape that staggered into her distorted vision, and then of two blurry flashes that sliced through the air before her. Through the air and through her departing soul. Kali screamed in agony as the whole of her self suddenly snapped back in like an elastic band, and she bucked on the floor taking deep, gulping breaths.
In that instant she realised that Redigor's grip was gone, and that she was whole again.
Whole, and not alone.
"Stay behind me," Gabriella DeZantez said, wielding the Deathclaws. "I guess what they say about these things slicing souls is true."
What? Kali thought. What they say about the claws is true? But Gabriella has the claws and Gabriella is dead… she died.
Gabriella was dead… she had seen her die in the Sardenne, at the hands of the juggennath. But at the same time here she was.
Kali shook her head and saw Gabriella, pulling her to her feet. The Enlightened One was scarred and battered, her armour crushed and misshapen beneath her torn surplice, and a dark rivulet of blood leaked from the side of her mouth, but she was there. And behind her, staring with a strange mixture of curiosity and rage, was the Pale Lord.
"No, no," Kali said to Gabriella, trying to push her away, "he's too powerful. Get out of here, get out of here now."
Gabriella grabbed her by the shoulders. "It's all right, remember."
"All right?"
"Yes, all right! Now, stay behind me."
Kali nodded, not really understanding. And then she began to remember. Remember because Redigor was attempting the same trick on Gabriella that he had tried on her, but with absolutely no effect at all. Gabriella, in fact, still had her back turned to him, and she hadn't even noticed what he was attempting to do. Then — Redigor still trying without success to rip out her soul — she turned and began to limp slowly up the aisle towards him, drawing Kali in behind her.
From over Gabriella's shoulder Kali saw the Pale Lord hesitate.
"What is this?" He said. "Some kind of resistance? Who are you, girl?"
"My name Gabriella DeZantez. I am a Sister of the Order of the Swords of Dawn."
The Pale Lord's eyes narrowed. "And pray, Sister, what brings you here?"
"I come to smite thee."
The Pale Lord looked, for a second, amazed, and — as Gabriella and Kali continued their approach. But then his face reverted to its usual arrogant mask and he raised his arms towards Gabriella. Kali knew what was coming and it was clear that so, too, did Gabriella.