CHAPTER 60
When R'shiel finally awoke, it was to find Death standing over her.
The Hall was quiet; even the gods were gone. Daylight, splintered by the stained glass windows, striped the floor in coloured light. Her head was pounding, her body wrung out and weak. R'shiel felt like she had been hit by a falling building.
“Am I going to die now?”
Death looked down at her and shook his head. He was once again in the form of a Harshini, the same benign form he had assumed to escort Korandellan into the Underworld.
With a start, R'shiel realised what that meant and pushed herself up painfully. Brak lay not far from her, his skin pallid. He wasn't breathing. She scrambled on her hands and knees to his side and shook him, but he showed no sign of life.
“You've taken him already!” she accused, tears spilling down her face.
“It was the backlash, demon child. It affected all the Harshini.”
She glanced over at Shananara, who also lay unconscious on the floor of the Hall. “Are the other Harshini dead?”
“No. The Citadel will not permit a Harshini to die within his walls. They were protected. The Harshini outside the Citadel would have been too far out of range to suffer more than the edges of it.”
“What about the humans?”
“The backlash would not have affected them. Not physically. Only a half-breed would be in danger.”
“Then I killed Brak,” she said dully. Her emotions were numb from exhaustion.
“Brak offered his life in exchange for yours some time ago, demon child. He did not die unwillingly.”
She stared down at Brak, unwilling, even now, to accept it. He did not deserve to die for her. “Have you come to take him?”
“That was my intention, demon child. But you sent his soul on its way without the body.”
“But you can take his body now, can't you?”
Death stared at her but did not answer. R'shiel was suddenly frightened that the answer would be one she didn't want to hear. She leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on Brak's rapidly cooling forehead, then climbed slowly to her feet and staggered past Death, falling on her knees near the cage that held Xaphista.
The trap had held. Xaphista cowered in the centre of the cage, trying to stay clear of the magically charged bars. He was whimpering. The magic of the staff heads had shielded him from the blast but his own magic had prevented him from drawing strength from the backlash when he needed it most. She had been afraid the trap would not hold. But the power that had washed over the cage was unfocused. There was no Seeing Stone to direct it, no determined will behind it. Xaphista the God was vanquished. All that remained in his place was Xaphista the demon. And he was a small and rather pathetic looking demon at that.
“I have come for this one too,” Death told her, gliding to her side. “He will cause less trouble in my keeping.”
“Just his soul,” R'shiel said, glancing up at Death. “Not the body. I don't want you getting bored one day and deciding to send him back.”
“You presume much, demon child.”
She glanced around the Hall at Brak's body and Shananara's prone form, then looked back at Death. “I've earnt it, don't you think?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you have to take Brak's body. All of him.”
“His soul has already fled, demon child.”
“You're Death. You can reunite them.”
“To what purpose?”
“Because the gods owe me that much.”
“Was there anything else?” Had she not been so exhausted, she might have detected a slight note of impatience in his tone.
“Is there any way I can get Brak back?”
“I am Death, demon child. I do not run an inn. Lives do not come and go as they please through my realm.”
Significantly, Death hadn't said no. R'shiel climbed to her feet and faced him, willing for the moment to let the matter drop. “Then can I ask you a question before you go?”
“You may.”
“How many hells are there?”
If he was surprised by her question, he gave no outward sign. “As many as there are creatures to imagine them, demon child. I do not create them. Each soul creates its own hell. Whether they suffer the afterlife or enjoy it is entirely up to them.”
“So if I want someone to suffer, how do I make sure?”
“Evil is its own reward, demon child.”
She nodded, thinking she understood what he meant. Death turned away from her and looked at Xaphista. The demon trembled under his scrutiny and then suddenly slumped against the bars. The withered grey body no longer cared about the shielded cage. Its soul was gone. Death turned then and opened his arms. R'shiel watched silently as Brak's lifeless body floated across the Hall until it was resting in Death's embrace.
Then, without another word, Death vanished, leaving R'shiel standing alone in the cavernous, empty Hall. She heard Shananara stirring and went to help the Harshini Queen, wrapped in a cocoon of numbness and grief that kept the pain at bay.
They stumbled out into bright sunlight. The Citadel was in chaos. The streets were crowded, and the sounds of shouted orders overlaid the general panic. They stood at the top of the steps, looking down over the confusion. R'shiel had her arm around Shananara, but she wasn't really certain who was holding up whom.
“You certainly know how to create a riot, cousin,” Shananara said with a wan smile.
She helped Shananara down the steps and they pushed their way against the panicked crowd towards the dormitories. R'shiel had to push them flat against the walls on several occasions as troops of mounted Defenders galloped by. The last troop to pass them stopped as their officer called a sudden halt. He flew from his saddle and ran to them. It was Tarja.
“What happened?” he demanded as R'shiel collapsed against him.
“Xaphista is dead,” she told him weakly.
Tarja looked at her in concern then waved his men forward. A lieutenant jumped down from his mount and caught Shananara before she fell.
“Get her back to the dormitories,” Tarja ordered the man holding the Queen. “Get her own people to help her. And take an escort.”
The young officer saluted with his free hand and scooped up the Harshini Queen into his arms. He lifted Shananara up into his saddle, swung up behind her, and then, waving a few of the troopers forward, pushed his way through the throng and headed back towards the dormitories. Once Shanan was safely out of harm's way, R'shiel sagged with relief. Now she only had herself to worry about.
“Can you stand?” Tarja asked.
“I think so.”
“Where's Brak?”
“He's dead.”
“I'm sorry.” Tarja sounded like he meant it, but R'shiel knew he would not grieve his death for long. Not like she would. “Let's get you out of here.”
“Is everyone all right?”
