And when she told me, I had to agree.
I thought to watch the battle from the wall, until a churning orb of power collided into it.
It spat from the heavens, too bright to look at, silver and dust and rabid energy. It struck the fields beyond the city, then skidded across the Earth until it burst against Nediah itself, breaking apart stone that had stood since before I was born.
It was a wonder the Earth Mother didn’t wake, with a god and demigod battling so close to Her. Then again, perhaps they were the reason She slept.
Many, like me, stood outside their shops and home, staring in awe, fear, or both, watching lights streak across the sky. Others shut themselves up in their homes without even a candle lit, their shutters drawn closed, as though their scant protections might succeed where the city’s stone fortifications had failed.
I made my way toward the enormous cathedral, for it was the highest part of the city, but changed direction when I saw a full pile of firewood outside what looked like a bakery. Leaving all sense of modesty behind, I scaled it and scrambled onto the roof. If anyone was inside and heard me, they showed no sign.
Standing there, I hugged myself against the chill of night and watched as a deep shadow grew between bolts of lightning, heavy and dense as tar. I knew it was him, somehow, and when the next silvery volley crashed down, Ristriel bent around it and lobbed it back. Not hard enough for it to reach the heavens, but it sailed off into the distance, crashing elsewhere where there was no town. For Ristriel knew every town and city that stood, and he would not destroy one to protect another.
I remembered Argon asking about a spyglass, and I wished I’d lingered long enough to grab it, for I sensed more was happening that I couldn’t see. Starlight rose in my veins, and I quashed it with relative ease.
With the speed of a shooting star, Ristriel streaked across the sky, a snaking cloud of shadow and violet light. A new explosion burst into being as he stopped beside it, but this one wasn’t like the others. It was a blue bonfire stemming from a single log. Like a mighty axe, Ristriel cut the log in two, breaking the volley from its course.
Something thundered behind me, and Nediah shook, nearly toppling me from the roof. I fell, skinning my knee through my dress, bruising my hands. I slid down the shingles of the bakery but regained traction before falling off. Getting my feet under me, I darted back up the gable, this time clinging to the wide chimney at its crest.
And I saw them. An army of godlings, too far away for detail, and Ristriel a massive eel winding around them, snatching them up and spitting them out, flinging them both heavenward and Earthward, stopping only when thunder struck, and then he zipped across the sky once more, spread out as shadow, and stopped a ball of Sun fire from crashing into the city.
I breathed hard through my mouth, clutching the chimney, as the fight went on and on, shifting west as Earth turned, slowly, so slowly, moving away from Nediah. I watched, I feared, and I prayed. And as the quaking slowed, the thunder grew distant, and the lights danced away, I knew two things for certain.
First, Nediah was safe.
Second, I had been wrong in my earlier assumption. There was something else Ristriel had hidden from me.
He was no godling.
CHAPTER 20
Ruthgar found me as I ran back toward the house, the battle nearly over but not yet.
Breathless, he said, “Quelline is—”
“Help me,” I pleaded.
He nodded, and together we ran through the city, the downhill streets speeding our steps. Wherever I could I checked the sky, watching as a dark shadow fell, fell, fell. Nothing chased it, nothing stopped it.
I ran as hard as I could, not even feeling pain when I tripped and smashed my hip into the cobbles. Ruthgar was there beside me, my blood kin many times removed, pulling me up and showing me the fastest way past the wall.
My lungs burned, my calves ached, my heart hurt. I let my emotions soar, and my starlight lit up the fields beyond the city. If Ruthgar had harbored any doubts of the veracity of my story, they vanished in that moment.
We found him collapsed in the wild grass, his breath strained, his eyes closed. But the moon was distracting the heavens with her selfish war, and so we were able to help him. Ruthgar threw him over his shoulders, and I tossed a cloak atop him, snuffing out my starlight so it wouldn’t exacerbate his condition.
The journey back took longer. Exhaustion pulled at us even while need and uncertainty pumped energy through our limbs. The roads were uphill, some steeply so, and Ruthgar looked ready to collapse by the time we reached the cathedral a couple of hours before dawn. Quelline had waited for us that entire time, lurking by a small back door with a rounded top, something a child’s playhouse might have had. It led to the basement, away from the eyes of priests, not far from the crypt that bore Agradaise’s body.