A panel came free under her hands and slid sideways, revealing a cramped passageway behind. The translucent, glowing inner stuff of the tree lit the way. Tychus gaped up at her, disbelieving. She hoisted herself up into the tunnel, ignoring the painful jostling of her head. It wasn’t easy to wedge herself in, and when she did, she almost wished she hadn’t. The circular space was only a little wider than her shoulders, and not tall enough to crawl in. She wormed her way inward before she could regret it, the blue light from the tree the only thing she could see. With difficulty, she got her hands out in front of herself, and the feeling of claustrophobia eased. She was glad that Guyrin wasn’t with her this time.
Up and sideways she went, tunneling between the chamber below and the bower above. She could hear the murmuring of the Naga congregation directly overhead and knew she was separated from them by less than half a meter of tree-stuff. She thought of the translucence of the tree’s flesh and hoped that none of them chose to look down through the floor during the ceremony.
Not too much farther, she thought, the memory of the tree pressing in on her from all sides. The altar had a hollow channel in it and an access panel hidden on top. The Shard should be within arm’s reach once she came out. She rolled over in the narrow tunnel with difficulty and inched along face-up, looking for the altar’s exit shaft. The tapered shadows of the undersides of tails were all around her.
There it is! The last few meters to reach the exit shaft seemed to take forever. The chanting was louder now, and the tails above her twitched in response to the cadence. Navigating herself into the vertical shaft was no easy task. Her arms led the way, and she was able to lift her head far enough to brace it against the far side of the upshaft. Her arms dangled uselessly in the upright space, and she laboriously inched her butt back and levered herself into a sitting position. From there, she had just enough space to gather her legs beneath her in a crouch. Her groping digits found the latch to slide the hidden hatch aside. With freedom at hand, she was suddenly desperate to escape the close confines of the tunnel. She didn’t let herself stop to think as she nudged the access panel aside, gathered her legs beneath her, and thrust her arms and face up out of the hole.
Her face was full of iridescent green feathers, and she couldn’t figure out why. They filled her entire field of vision. Twisting around, she saw that the Naga priestess was bowed down over the altar, her headdress draped directly onto the hole that Nira had popped out of. The female’s face was mere centimeters from her own. The Naga shrieked in surprise and reared back, babbling in her foreign tongue. The movement drew the feathered headdress up and away from Nira, revealing her to the congregation. Screams and shouts rang out, echoing through the leafy bower.
Quick now! She twisted about, casting her eyes frantically about the altar. It was rectangular, carved and painted in a thousand hues, with inlaid gems twinkling in the light of the tree. Three handspans to her right was a smoky crystal the size of her fist displayed on an intricately carved pedestal of onyx. It shone yellow with inner light. The moment her eyes touched it she felt a buzzing energy within her bones. The chunk of glass seemed more real than anything else, as if she could close her eyes and still see it through her eyelids. She had the dazed sense that she was being pulled toward it somehow, but her body did not move.
The shouts of shock and anger from the Naga sounded muted, and the rest of the world looked as if it were at the end of a long tunnel. Formless whispers brushed at her mind, and her gaze was trapped in the Shard’s bright, swirling depths. Almost she could hear it. Almost it spoke to her. Time stopped and the world fell away, and Nira listened with all her heart, trying to decipher the eternal wisdom that almost she could understand.
Then the Naga high priestess reared up just beyond the Chaos Shard, whip in hand. There was no chance for Nira to move, and the barbed tip of the lash licked at her head, tangling in her hair and leaving fiery pain in its wake. Nira cried out, her hand flying to her scalp. It came away bloody. With a cruel smile, the Naga flicked her wrist again, and the coiled length wrapped neatly around her throat. The priestess jerked it tight, and suddenly there was no air. Nira scrabbled at the cord with fumbling fingers but could not loosen it even a hairsbreadth. Rolling her eyes and pulling against the whip with all her strength, she caught sight of Gamarron and Kest charging at the backs of the unaware Naga congregation, coming to her rescue. Even a country girl could see there was no chance. There were too many of the enemy. Too many! They need to be gone!
The urge to breathe wracked her frame, but there was no air. Nira’s sight began to blacken, and she felt her knees loosen and shake. She wanted to growl, she wanted to scream – but she couldn’t even whimper. I don’t want to die like this. One hand scurried desperately around the altar of its own accord while the other kept tugging at the whip. Perhaps if she caught hold of the onyx pedestal, she could throw it at her
