That fact became even clearer as about two dozen soldiers now poured into the hall, moving with swift, well-rehearsed efficiency.
Damn, damn, damn.
Eight of the soldiers took charge of organizing the departure of the gawking visitors. The rest of them surrounded Chandra, weapons drawn. In addition to swordsmen, there were six archers among them who drew their bows and pointed their arrows directly at her.
“Now, now, let’s all stay calm,” she said. “I’m sure we can discuss our differences like reasonable adults.”
One of the mind mages warned the guards, “She intends to fight.”
Chandra scowled and tried to block their probing. She knew she was stronger, if she could concentrate. But for Chandra it was actually the opposite. Her mind was racing with possibility. Thoughts were moving in her head with such imprecision, that she barely knew she was thinking. She did know, however, that this whole situation was making her very mad.
They sensed it, or rather they sensed that Chandra’s fuse was short. The telepath who had spoken before told the head guard, “We can’t read her. She’s too erratic.”
The other one said, “Keep hold of her.”
The head guard said impatiently to one of his men, “Where are the Enervants? They’re supposed to be here!”
“Enervants?” Chandra said. “That’s some nerve showing up late for the party.” This was no time for jokes, but she couldn’t help it.
“The Prelate told me you’d be back,” the head guard said. “I said no one was that reckless, but she said that you might be.
So the Prelate of Kephalai had indeed enlisted the planeswalker to retrieve the scroll from Regatha. And he’d reported to the Prelate.
“All right, so I’ve come back,” Chandra said, assessing the situation. “Now what?”
“Now I turn you over the Enervants.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Actually,” the guard said, “I don’t think you’ll like them. They are particularly suited to breaking the will of even the most headstrong. It is said they enjoy torturing their subjects in the way most would enjoy a fine meal. They savor it. They take time over the courses, but are not so gluttonous that they don’t leave a helping for the rats. I should imagine they will have a particularly good time with you.”
There were more than twenty armed guards, a closed space, no visible exits, a scroll to liberate, a couple of mind mages who might have other tricks up their floppy blue sleeves… And whoever the Enervants were, they didn’t sound like a crowd Chandra really wanted to meet.
“You’re right,” she said. “The Enervants are late. I don’t like anyone who isn’t punctual.”
She was worried about the fragility of the scroll. She hadn’t come all the way to Kephalai to destroy it by accident. However, like it or not, she only saw one viable option now.
“Have you ever heard of Jaya Ballard? No? No, of course not. My teacher’s always quoting her, and I get a little tired of it. But I have to admit, once in a while, there’s some good advice there.”
She made her decision. Fire, scroll, fire.
“For example,” Chandra said, feeling heat pour through her. “Jaya said, ‘when in doubt…’” Fire licked her veins, her skin, her fingertips. “‘Use the biggest boom you know.’”
The sound of steel being drawn from scabbards was decisive. The guards were poised for attack, arrows were knocked and drawn, but they hesitated as a small ball of white-hot flame emanated from Chandra’s core. It didn’t seem like much to them.
Chandra, meanwhile, concentrated on the on the ball as best as she could. As magical energy flowed into her, the ball expanded rapidly to the size of a human head and Chandra sagged a bit, as if the spell had failed. The ball remained where it was, quivering impotently like a mass of gelatin.
“That’s not much of a boom,” said one of the guards and the tension drained from the room, as many lowered their weapons laughing.
As they did so, Chandra sharpened her focus and the ball collapsed into an infinitesimal point before exploding with such force that it knocked everyone in the room off their feet. Arrows were incinerated, clothing set afire, and the swords of the guards were suddenly searing the flesh of their palms. Luckily the telepaths had no hair to burn, but the stench from the others in the room was more than Chandra had bargained for.
Immune to the blast herself, Chandra turned to smash the glass case but saw that her blast had already done so. She reached inside and grabbed the scroll, which seemed unharmed.
She heard screams all around her. People in panic, burning. People in pain.
“Kill her! Kill her!” someone shouted hoarsely.
Calling on all of her power, on everything she had left, Chandra formed another ball of fire in her free hand and cast it at the wall. The fiery explosion blew out an entire wall of the Sanctum. She squinted against the flying dust and debris, coughing as she inhaled. She ran through the burning chaos and out of the building. Four guards who had survived the explosions were hot on her heels, shouting, “Stop that woman!”
People in the crowded streets were screaming, too terrified by the explosion to pay any attention to one fleeing woman and the bloody, dirty soldiers running after her.
The Sanctum’s structure was more precarious than it looked. Without that wall supporting its fourth side, the building began to cave in on itself.
Chandra heard the tremendous crack of splintering stone and the crash of collapsing walls and floors. Despite the soldiers right behind her, she turned to look. What she saw was so startling, she stopped running and just stood there and stared in shock at her handiwork. So did the soldiers who, moments ago, had been so intent on killing her.
The tall spire of the Sanctum, high overhead, had started to sway. The gargoyles that squatted around it reacted slowly, their wings shuddering uncertainly as they unfolded from their hunched positions and prepared to take flight. Inside the building, all the soldiers and both mind mages were probably already dead; if not, then they would die within moments.
The massive spire toppled and fell. The Sanctum of Stars completely collapsed. It seemed to happen with a horrific slowness. The immense weight of cracking, falling stone created a terrifying roar. People in the streets were screaming in panic and fleeing to safety. Chandra turned and fled, too.
The enormous impact of the Sanctum collapsing on itself hurled rocks, flames, ashes, dust, and debris across the main square and down the length of every surrounding street. Chandra was knocked off her feet when the ground shook and a wave of rock and ash hurled her forward. Someone trampled her prone body as they ran headlong from the disaster. Winded and in pain, Chandra was lying face down in the street, debris still showering down on her as the dust of pulverized stone filled her lungs.
Coughing and bleeding, she lay there in a daze.
Fire above, the whole thing! The whole building! I didn’t mean to do that.
The screams of children filled her ears. She heard a woman wailing. A horse was whinnying in terror.
She had just wanted to escape alive with the scroll.
Dead soldiers? Sure. Dead telepaths? Fair game.
But she hadn’t meant to destroy a whole section of the city, terrorizing all of its citizens and perhaps killing innocents.
Pull yourself together. Come on! Get up. Get out of here-or you’ll be joining the dead.
Coughing and shaking, she rose to her feet. The scroll was still in her hand. She looked down at it, trying to think.
She couldn’t planeswalk. Not under these circumstances. And not with her strength so depleted. She didn’t have anything left right now. She needed to regroup and get a handle on things.
Still coughing, she staggered down the street, away from the Sanctum, going in the same direction as the fleeing crowd. By the time she felt she really needed to sit down, she was well beyond the dust, debris, and milling panic. Many people were filling the market street where she stopped to rest. News of the disaster, as well as varied explanations for it, circulated quickly.