Read Online The SteelMaster of Indwallin, Book 2 of The Gods Within by J. L. Doty - Free Book Online
Authors: J. L. Doty
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directly into Olivia’s eyes, tried to reply as softly. “No. You mustn’t. Your kindness would be as honey to a bear, and that sword would come forth to devour you as readily for its own pleasure, as for its own defense. The result would be the same.”
The old witch looked at Rhianne for a moment, her eyes afire with godlight and boring into the depths of Rhianne’s soul. “You have told us why we should not enter. Now tell us why you should.”
Rhianne held her back straight and refused to flinch away from the old woman’s gaze. “I don’t know why. I only know it is what I am meant to do.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed even further, and Rhianne sensed the old woman’s power dancing about her like a wild animal pulling mindlessly at its leash. But then the old witch smiled, and with a predatory laugh she said, “You are much like your husband, Rhianne esk et Elhiyne. Much like him indeed.”
Olivia turned with lightning speed to the guard. “Let her pass. Either she will bring him out to us, or together they will both perish within.”
The guard bowed respectfully, then turned toward the two massive wooden doors that sealed Morgin and his sword within the Hall of Wills. Rhianne was expecting to see the doors thrown open quickly now that she had passed the test of Olivia’s scrutiny, but instead she had to wait while the guard and two of his subordinates began prying away a patchwork of timbers that had been hastily added to the planks of the doors, and only then did she take notice of their condition. Beneath the added timbers the doors themselves, once so massive Rhianne alone would have found it difficult to move them on their hinges, were now splintered and pitted with holes where Morgin’s sword had punched through them time and again.
The guards were careful to remove only the timbers needed to allow her access. They propped one of the doors open slightly and held it there, waiting for her, and she noticed they took great care to avoid looking through the gap into the Hall itself.
Rhianne had still not turned away from her destination, though somehow she knew France was standing in the crowd behind her. “Swordsman,” she said softly.
France stepped carefully into her field of view, though he remained to one side as if reluctant to stand between her and the Hall. “I’m here,” he said flatly.
“Do you know the measure of that blade in there?”
He shrugged. “When it’s just a blade, I do.”
“Then please find me a sheath within which it will find comfort.”
“Aye, my lady,” he said, then disappeared from sight. She heard movement in the crowd behind her, then the swordsman said to someone, “Give me your sheath.” She heard a sword being drawn, then more movement within the crowd, and France appeared again at her side. He held before her an empty sheath.
Rhianne’s confidence was beginning to falter, so without further ado she took the sheath in one hand, crossed the space to the gap in the doors, and entered the Hall with all of her defenses up, as if she were entering the Ninth Hell itself. The guards closed the gap quickly, and immediately began pounding the extra timbers back in place.
As Rhianne’s eyes took in the interior of the Hall her heart raced with fear. A haze of white dust drifted on the air, made the sunlight visible as rays splashing across the Hall from a high window near the ceiling, filled her lungs and eyes and mouth. It coated everything, covering the floor, the walls, the remnants of the table where the council had sat. But then, as if by instinct, her eyes pierced the haze and settled on the shape of a stone pillar, one of many that lined the edge of the Hall to support the high vaulted ceiling. As wide as two men standing back to back, the blade had nearly cut in two, and about its base lay a pile of stone chips as mute evidence of its fate. Deeper into the dusty haze she saw other pillars in even worse condition, and at her feet the stone steps that
The old witch looked at Rhianne for a moment, her eyes afire with godlight and boring into the depths of Rhianne’s soul. “You have told us why we should not enter. Now tell us why you should.”
Rhianne held her back straight and refused to flinch away from the old woman’s gaze. “I don’t know why. I only know it is what I am meant to do.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed even further, and Rhianne sensed the old woman’s power dancing about her like a wild animal pulling mindlessly at its leash. But then the old witch smiled, and with a predatory laugh she said, “You are much like your husband, Rhianne esk et Elhiyne. Much like him indeed.”
Olivia turned with lightning speed to the guard. “Let her pass. Either she will bring him out to us, or together they will both perish within.”
The guard bowed respectfully, then turned toward the two massive wooden doors that sealed Morgin and his sword within the Hall of Wills. Rhianne was expecting to see the doors thrown open quickly now that she had passed the test of Olivia’s scrutiny, but instead she had to wait while the guard and two of his subordinates began prying away a patchwork of timbers that had been hastily added to the planks of the doors, and only then did she take notice of their condition. Beneath the added timbers the doors themselves, once so massive Rhianne alone would have found it difficult to move them on their hinges, were now splintered and pitted with holes where Morgin’s sword had punched through them time and again.
The guards were careful to remove only the timbers needed to allow her access. They propped one of the doors open slightly and held it there, waiting for her, and she noticed they took great care to avoid looking through the gap into the Hall itself.
Rhianne had still not turned away from her destination, though somehow she knew France was standing in the crowd behind her. “Swordsman,” she said softly.
France stepped carefully into her field of view, though he remained to one side as if reluctant to stand between her and the Hall. “I’m here,” he said flatly.
“Do you know the measure of that blade in there?”
He shrugged. “When it’s just a blade, I do.”
“Then please find me a sheath within which it will find comfort.”
“Aye, my lady,” he said, then disappeared from sight. She heard movement in the crowd behind her, then the swordsman said to someone, “Give me your sheath.” She heard a sword being drawn, then more movement within the crowd, and France appeared again at her side. He held before her an empty sheath.
Rhianne’s confidence was beginning to falter, so without further ado she took the sheath in one hand, crossed the space to the gap in the doors, and entered the Hall with all of her defenses up, as if she were entering the Ninth Hell itself. The guards closed the gap quickly, and immediately began pounding the extra timbers back in place.
As Rhianne’s eyes took in the interior of the Hall her heart raced with fear. A haze of white dust drifted on the air, made the sunlight visible as rays splashing across the Hall from a high window near the ceiling, filled her lungs and eyes and mouth. It coated everything, covering the floor, the walls, the remnants of the table where the council had sat. But then, as if by instinct, her eyes pierced the haze and settled on the shape of a stone pillar, one of many that lined the edge of the Hall to support the high vaulted ceiling. As wide as two men standing back to back, the blade had nearly cut in two, and about its base lay a pile of stone chips as mute evidence of its fate. Deeper into the dusty haze she saw other pillars in even worse condition, and at her feet the stone steps that
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