Sister Perdita had gone ashen. “A light web.” Her voice was low and heavy with what Jennsen had never detected from her before: dread.
“Impossible!” Emperor Jagang roared. “There are Sisters down there warding for light spells!”
Sister Perdita said nothing. She couldn’t seem to take her gaze from the arresting sight.
Jennsen could tell that the pain was wearing heavily on Sebastian, but he spoke forcefully. “I’ve been told that a light web can’t do any more damage than”—he gestured back at the palace—“perhaps to destroy a building.”
Sister Perdita said nothing, and with that silence offered the evidence to the contrary that was clearly before his eyes.
Jennsen took the reins to both horses in one hand and put the other to Sebastian’s back in sympathy. She ached for him and wanted him to be somewhere safe where his injury could be tended to. The Sisters had said that it was serious and needed their attention. Jennsen suspected that the wound he suffered at the hands of the sorceress needed the intervention of magic.
“How can it be a light web!” Jagang demanded. “There’s not even anyone here! No troops, no army, no force—except maybe a couple of their gifted.”
“That’s all it would take,” Sister Perdita said. “Such a thing needs no supporting troops. I told you that something was wrong. With the Keep here, in Aydindril, there’s no telling what even a lone wizard might be able to do to hold off an army—even our army.”
“You mean,” Sebastian asked, “it’s like the way a small force in a high pass, for example, can hold off a whole army?”
“That’s right.”
Jagang looked incredulous. “You mean to say that you think that even that one skinny old wizard, in a place like the Keep, might be able to do all that?”
Sister Perdita’s gaze shifted to the emperor. “That one skinny old wizard, as you call him, has just managed to do the impossible. He has not only found what was probably a light web constructed thousands of years ago, but, even more inconceivable, he somehow managed to ignite it.”
Jagang turned to stare off to where the light was finally dying. “Dear Creator,” he whispered, “that’s right where the army is.” He wiped a hand back across his shaved head as he considered the frightening implications. “How could they ignite a light web among our army? We’re warded for that! How!”
Sister Perdita’s eyes turned toward the ground. “There is no way for us to tell, Excellency. It could be something as simple as a box containing an ancient light web from which he removed all the fail-safes and then left it for us to come across. As our men set up camp, maybe a man found it, wondered what was in the innocent-looking little box, opened it, and the light of day was the final trigger. It could be something else entirely else that we could never begin to dream up or imagine, much less forestall. We’ll never know. Whoever triggered it is now part of that cloud of smoke hanging over the river valley.”
“Excellency,” Sebastian said, “I urgently advise that we get the army out of here—move them back.” He paused to wince in pain. “If they’re able to unleash such a defense—with all the gifted and their protection we have—then taking the Keep might be impossible.”
“But we must!” Jagang roared.
Sebastian sagged forward, waiting for a stitch of pain to pass. “Excellency, if we lose the army, then Lord Rahl will triumph. It’s as simple as that. Aydindril is not worth the risk it has proven itself to be.” This was not so much the Sebastian Jennsen knew, as it was Sebastian, the Order’s strategist, speaking. “Better for us to withdraw and fight another day on our terms, not theirs. Time is our ally, not theirs.”
In silent fury, the emperor stared off toward his imperiled army as he considered Sebastian’s advice. There was no telling how many men had just died.
“This is Lord Rahl’s doing,” Jagang finally whispered. “He has to be killed. In the Creator’s name, he must be killed.”
Jennsen knew that she was the only one who could accomplish such a thing.
Chapter 51
Jennsen paced in the dimly lit tent, her footsteps silent across the emperor’s opulent carpets. A Sister stood vigil near the outer entry, making sure that no one could come into the tent to disturb the emperor, or, more important, to harm him. Outside, a massive contingent of guards, including more Sisters, patrolled the area. Occasionally, the Sister over by the outer entry glanced at Jennsen as she paced.
Pacing was all she could do. Her insides were a painful knot of worry over Sebastian. He had lost consciousness on the long ride back to the encampment. Sister Perdita said that he was in danger of losing his life. Jennsen couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He was all she had.
Emperor Jagang was also in grave condition after having lost so much blood and then having to endure the long hard ride back with the tattered remnants of the elite cavalry, but he’d refused to delay his return for any reason, even his own well-being. He never thought of himself, only of getting back to his army. Both men were at last now secure in the confines of the emperor’s tents, being attended to by Sisters of the Light. Jennsen had wanted to stay with Sebastian, but the Sisters chased her out.
The emperor had been made worse by the sight of the army. He’d been fit to kill anyone who gave him an excuse. Jennsen could understand his rage of emotion.
The light web had ignited close to the center of the encampment. Even this many hours after the event, the place was still mass confusion.
Many units had scattered, preparing for the possibility of an imminent attack. Others, it was suspected, had simply run for the hills. In the area where the light web had ignited there was nothing but a vast depression of blackened ground. In the ensuing chaos, no one had been able to determine how many men had been killed. It was next to impossible, with so many either killed or scattered, to get an accurate count of units, much less individuals, but there was no argument that the devastation was staggering.
Jennsen had overheard whispers of over half a million men turned to dust in an instant, and maybe as many as twice that number. In the end, the number killed might prove to be much higher; there were inestimable numbers of seriously injured soldiers—men burned or blinded, men severely cut or with limbs taken off by flying debris, men partially crushed by heavy wagons and equipment toppling on them, men made deaf, men so insensate, so stupefied, that they could only stare unblinking at nothing. There were not enough army surgeons or Sisters of the Light to even begin to attend to the tiniest fraction of the wounded. With every hour that passed, thousands of those who survived the initial blast died of their injuries.
As staggering a blow as it was, it was not fatal to the great beast of the Imperial Order army. The encampment was immense, and precisely because it was so vast, much of it had survived. According to the emperor, it was only a matter of time before they replaced the dead with fresh troops, and then he would unleash his men to seek vengeance on the people of the New World.
Jennsen was beginning to understand why Sebastian had always been so adamant that all magic must eventually be eliminated. There was no good that she could think of that could offset such wickedness. She hoped magic could at least spare his life.
Despite Emperor Jagang’s conviction that their forces would soon recover, there were difficult times ahead for them. Much of the food had been destroyed, along with vast amounts of equipment and weapons. Every tent in the entire encampment had been at least knocked down. It was a cold night and many men would be exposed to the elements. Fortunately, even though the emperor’s tent had been flattened, men had been able to erect it again for the injured emperor and Sebastian.
Jennsen paced, burning, not only with worry, but with rage. She doubted that a greater monster than Richard Rahl had ever lived. Surely, no single man had ever been the cause of so much suffering in the world. It was inconceivable to her that anyone could have such a lust for power that they would
lead a cause that could murder so many people. She didn’t see how Richard Rahl could be a part of Creation; surely, he was the Keeper’s disciple.
Tears ran down Jennsen’s cheeks at her gnawing apprehension. She prayed fervently to the good spirits that Sebastian would not die, that the Sisters could heal him.
In agonizing worry, she halted in her pacing and leaned on a table she had not seen the last time she had been in the tent. When the tent had fallen, it had been hastily erected, and this table, probably from the emperor’s private quarters, apparently hadn’t been replaced in its proper location. There was a small bookcase at the rear of the top.
Looking for something that might divert her mind from the ache of anxiety while she waited for word of Sebastian, Jennsen idly scanned the old books. She didn’t understand the words on any of them. For some reason, though, one in particular drew her attention—something about the rhythm of the foreign words. She pulled the book out and turned it toward the candlelight, trying to read the title. She ran her fingertips over the four gilded words on the cover. They made no sense to her, yet they seemed somehow almost familiar.
Jennsen gasped in surprise when the Sister, who had been over by the door, lifted the book from her hands. “These belong to Emperor Jagang. Besides being very old and very fragile, they are quite valuable. His Excellency doesn’t like anyone to touch his books.”
Jennsen watched the woman inspect the book for any damage. “I’m sorry. I meant no harm.”
“You are a very special guest, and we have been instructed to accord you every privilege, but these are His Excellency’s most prized works. He is a man of great learning. He collects books. As a guest, I think you should respect his wishes that no one but he touch them.”