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"No." Then, "I think whatever this is, it's the reason the Guardians abandoned the war and have left us alone."
Shoftiel frowned. She leaned against his arresting grip as if unable to resist the pull of the temple. He felt its draw as well, though not as strongly as he suspected those caught in the spell nets did.
"Then if you succeed in your mission, the war will begin again."
She grimaced. "I don't think it's that simple. Let go of me. Standing here isn't doing any good."
He considered plucking her up and flying her out. Breaking the spell that held her was the problem. If he did, pulling that one thread could short-circuit the rest of the massed spell. The explosion could wipe out the entire continent.
He loosened his grip slightly, curiosity getting the better of him. There would still be time to flee. "I'll stay with you."
The moment they stepped through the pillars into the temple, the air turned warm and thick as honey. It was hard to move, even with the protection of his shield magic. Giselle moved easily, no doubt facilitated by the spell wrapping her. Supplicants entered from every side. They formed a circle around the pedestal. Each laid their hands on the smooth white surface. As they did, the spell strands ensnaring them flared bright as sunshine. When it died away, most of the supplicants had disappeared. The few left standing would bow their heads and then turn to walk robotically away.
Rarely--he only saw one as Giselle lined up for her turn--the radiance didn't die away. The supplicant would rise in a golden bubble and float out through the top of the temple and away. A miracle recipient.
All around them, the supplicants whispered and muttered, mostly to themselves. Mostly prayers, but some were invocations, and others were spells. Shoftiel still couldn't make out what was on top of the pedestal. Opalescent light disguised it. What could stop the Guardians in their tracks? A weapon?
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bsp; Finally Giselle was next. He moved behind her, settling both hands on her shoulders. "You're going to do this?"
"The stupid is strong in me," she said without turning to look at him.
"What happens if you don't?"
He'd not asked her that. Hadn't really cared. But the situation was far bigger than he'd imagined, and given her covenstead's penchant for sacrifice, he had a feeling this could end very badly for her . . . and him.
"I told you--"
"Truthfully," he interjected before she could repeat the movie line she'd given him last time.
Her back stiffened and her shoulders squared beneath his hands. "Something like the apocalypse. Only worse."
That she believed it, Shoftiel didn't doubt. Whether it was true, he didn't know. Before he could ask anything else or even think of a question, she stepped forward and laid her hands flat on the pedestal. Light coruscated over her and up his arms, washing over him until he was engulfed.
The temple and supplicants vanished. They stood inside a white salt circle. Another one surrounded it and another. Thirteen altogether. Between each were inscribed symbols and sigils glowing golden. The ground where they stood was black obsidian except for a small silver plinth in the center. On top, balanced on the point of a pin, was a crystal sphere the size of his head.
On the other side of the plinth was a shadowed figure, and another two, one on the left, the other on the right. Ethereal blue light limned all three.
For a long moment no one moved. Shoftiel spread his wings to be sure he could, his fingers tightening on Giselle's shoulders.
"Time to fish or cut bait," she said softly, and then stepped toward the plinth. That the sphere was the object she'd come to steal seemed obvious. Whether she could was another story. The magic emanating from the three champions guarding the object was greater than Shoftiel's own. He and Giselle would not win a battle. That left trickery. He'd have to follow the witch's lead, a fact that made him want to beat his head against a rock. How had he allowed her this kind of power over him?
The three shadow opponents vanished and reappeared in front of them, blocking their path to the pedestal.
"This has to end," Giselle said, stopping. "This is no longer a good solution."
"We cannot go back to war," the center figure answered, its voice deep and hollow, as if the ancient stones of the world spoke.
"They saved our world, and then they tried to kill it," came the one on the right. Its voice was lighter and made Shoftiel's bones ache like a winter wind cutting through his flesh.
"There is no other way," the third one said, its voice booming like thunder over the mountains.
"Let me talk to her?" Giselle asked in a respectful tone. "If we must fight one another, let us know the reason why."
More secrets. Shoftiel's fingers dug deeply into her shoulders until they touched bone. Giselle neither flinched nor cried out in pain. "Who is she?" he gritted in her ear. He didn't expect an answer and he got none.
The shadow figures exchanged looks, and then nodded. They stepped aside, the center one gesturing for Giselle to approach. None of them paid any attention to Shoftiel.
