"The Old Gods are gone, and you, Omalthea, have come with your blessings in their stead," Hederick fin shy;ished. "So be it."
Crealora glanced back toward the couple by the gate. The old woman had doffed the worn cloak and dropped the scarf. Her white robe drew all eyes. "A mage!" one of the novitiates shouted.
The woman stretched her arms above her. Wind swirled around her slender figure. She displayed the strength of a much younger person-a woman a third her age. "Hederick!" the old woman shouted. "Cease this cha shy;rade!"
The High Theocraf s head shot around. Hederick gazed at the woman. His lips moved, but no sound issued forth. The Seeker priest caught the edge of the lectern, his blue eyes staring from his face like the orbs of a heathen stone idol. "Ancilla," he said softly. "Ancilla. In the flesh, at last."
"Cease this sin, Hederick."
"I should have known you'd not give up, Ancilla," Hederick whispered. "All these years you've hounded me, ever since I defeated you at Garlund. You've sent countless magical creatures to harry me, but never have you appeared yourself." The High Theocrat actually bowed, a mocking smile on his lips. "I always knew it was you behind the harassment, Ancilla. I suppose I should be honored that you come in person to pay court to me at last, witch." His tone was thick with derision.
"I will stop you this time, Hederick," Ancilla said. "I have the power now."
Hederick laughed, then he struck a commanding pose and pointed at the old woman. "Fellow Seekers!" he cried, his voice thundering across the intervening space as though he could strike the old woman down with words alone, "you see before you another witch! Let her die here with the witch of Zaygoth. Sauvay demands her death. Guards!"
At Hederick's words, Ancilla turned slightly toward Tarscenian. The High Theocrat seemed to realize for the first time that Ancilla was not alone. He gazed for a moment in puzzlement at the tall, bearded man. "Tarscen shy;ian?" he said wonderingly. Then his voice rose above the noise of the crowd once again. "False priest! Guards! Arrest them!"
The materbill growled. Tarscenian looked away from the woman whom Hederick had called Ancilla. His gaze locked into Crealora's eyes, far across the courtyard. The materbill roared rage and fire, and Crealora smelled her own hair burning. Flames flickered at the fringe of her shawl; the hem of her skirt caught fire. Crealora sensed all this as though it were happening to someone else, at a great distance. She pointed her face skyward, where a curl of smoke rose into the sky. Soon her essence would rise within that spiral toward the plane of the Old Gods.
The materbill roared again. The fire doubled, but Cre shy;alora felt little pain. She peered through the smoke with watering eyes and spied Tarscenian and Ancilla.
The old woman was chanting and gesticulating. Light shy;ning had erupted from her fingers and was roaring around the courtyard. A ring of temple guards had circled the spellcasting pair but appeared frozen in the act of try shy;ing to capture them. What was going on?
The materbill snarled. Dimly, Crealora heard screams from the two men still seeking to secret themselves behind the allenwood trunk. Then the man called Tarscenian caught Crealora's gaze again, and continued to hold it. He was chanting, too. He hurled a handful of powder to the ground.
New calm spread through Crealora. This was the end, then.
The materbill roared once more.
The witch of Zaygoth closed her eyes and died.
Chapter 6
"Your Worship!" Dahos called. "The woman has turned the guards to stone!"
"I see that, you idiot!" Hederick raged. A dozen novi shy;tiates huddled underneath the platform, but Hederick refused to show any panic. "Send more guards against her, fool!"
The high priest didn't move right away. Instead he stared in awe at the elderly mage. "What power!" he mur shy;mured. Then Dahos raised his voice to a level that could be heard by Hederick. "Your Worship, the woman has stopped two dozen guards. She hurls bolts of lightning around the courtyard like so many twigs. Yet she has harmed no one. Why should this be?"
"She wants only me," Hederick shouted. "She would kill me if she could, but I am too strong for her! Double the forces, high priest!"
Dahos looked from the bolt-hurling enchantress to the High Theocrat. Then he gestured curtly to the captain of Erolydon's guards. The chief guard put a horn to his lips and blew.
The front entrance of the temple building crashed open, and six goblins, clad in leather armor and wielding maces and spears, hurtled through. Blinking against the painful light, they shoved the panic-stricken people aside, injur shy;ing more than one person in the process. Yellow Eyes dashed toward Ancilla and Tarscenian, his five comrades at his heels. "Endit the lady witch!" Yellow Eyes thun shy;dered. "Kill 'em!"
The goblins did no better than the guards. Twenty paces from Ancilla and Tarscenian, they crashed into an invisible wall of magical origin and slid, senseless, to the cobblestones.
"By Sauvay!" Hederick swore. The witch had never challenged him so directly before. He shoved his hand into the front of his robe and drew forth an object. Then Hederick thrust his hand toward Ancilla. Suddenly he and Dahos were bathed in glittery light. The device shone too brightly for any but Hederick to discern its subtle details. To most, it was a glowing ball, no more.
"Leave off, witch!" Hederick bellowed. "My gods pro shy;tect me, here as everywhere."
"You must stop this evil, Hederick." Ancilla spoke in a normal tone, but her voice seemed to echo from the marble walls, the stones of the courtyard, and the iron of the gates. Lightning continued to ricochet around the area. The materbill, smeared with ashes and blood, snarled and dashed back to the door through which it had emerged. Responding to Hederick's command, a frightened novitiate frantically hauled on the rope, and the leonine creature dis shy;appeared safely into Erolydon's lower reaches.
"Norvir tonwek." Ancilla's gravelly voice insinuated itself around Hederick like a noose.
"You can't stop me, Ancilla," Hederick said.
"Centinbil chuffhing, adon."
"I'm well aware of your pathetic attempts to impede me," Hederick shouted. "You cannot harm me-not while I have the Diamond Dragon of my lord Sauvay." He held it aloft, exulting in the control it gave him. Let the masses see the power that their High Theocrat wielded!
"Gatefil antogys adon."
"What will it be this time, Ancilla? Will you again use magic to try to usurp my followers, my closest aides? They will not forsake me, witch. They cannot harm me, either, despite your wishes. My lord Sauvay made the Diamond Dragon too strong for simple subterfuge."
Hederick taunted her, suddenly conscious of the stares of hundreds of awestruck Seeker converts. He could imagine their thoughts: The High Theocrat was single-handedly taking on a mage of the highest order-and clearly winning-without magic!
"Surrender now, Ancilla," he coaxed. "I will make sure you and Tarscenian die quickly. I will not draw out the time of your deaths, even though you do not deserve my mercy. A mage and a false Seeker priest! Sauvay and Omalthea will rejoice at your deaths. They will rain their benefactions upon me and my followers." He turned to face the crowd, once again holding forth the Diamond Dragon, and cried, "Hear me, people of Solace!"
Ancilla's hands could barely be seen, so quickly did they whirl in the air. Her eyes gleamed. "Gatefil antogys adon. Shiral." Magical powders gyrated around her, join shy;ing and separating to create rainbows of color. The High Theocrat had never seen such a display of magical power.