Marion Zimmer Bradley's Ancestors of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson Page B

them now.
    The earth jerked beneath them. With a crash that transcended all previous measures of sound, the left wall caved in.
    The sounds of rockfall and the screams that followed now faded as dust billowed outward. Tiriki’s torch had gone out. She coughed, shielding her eyes. When she could see again, the dim illumination from outside showed her the cabinet knocked onto its side and the acolytes climbing to their feet around it.
    “Is everyone all right?”
    One by one, voices answered her. The last to reply was Kalaran.
    “A little grazed, but whole. I was on the other side of the cabinet, and its bulk protected me. Aldel—”
    There was a shocked silence. Then one of the girls began to sob.
    “Help me get the rubble off him—” Chedan dropped to his knees, pulling frantically at the lumps of stone and plaster.
    “Damisa, Selast, Elis! Let’s get the cabinet upright and pull it out of the way—” Tiriki took one handle and heaved. She felt the others take up the weight and they started forward.
    “But Aldel—” whispered Elis.
    “The others will bring him,” Tiriki said firmly. “Let’s get the cabinet outside.” The rock groaned and a little more dust sifted down as they dragged the Omphalos out through the portico. Tiriki looked back apprehensively, but in another moment she saw Chedan and Kalaran emerging from the gloom with the body of Aldel in their arms.
    “He’s knocked out, isn’t he?” stammered Elis, looking from one to the other hopefully. “Let me hold him until he revives.”
    “No, Elis, he has been taken from us—” Chedan said compassionately as they laid the body down. Through the dust they could see the distorted shape of the boy’s skull where the rock had crushed it. “It was over in an instant, without pain.”
    Elis shook her head, uncomprehending, then knelt, smoothing the dust from her betrothed’s forehead and gazing into his empty eyes. “Aldel . . . come back, beloved. We’re going to escape together—we’ll always be together. You promised me.”
    “He has gone before us, Elis,” Damisa said with a compassion Tiriki would not have expected. “Come now. Come with me.” She put her arm around the girl and drew her away.
    Chedan bent over the still figure and closed Aldel’s eyes, then traced the sigil of unbinding upon his brow. “Go in peace, my son,” he murmured. “And in another life may this sacrifice be rewarded.” He stood and took Elis’s arm.
    “But we can’t—just leave him there,” said Selast uncertainly.
    “We must,” answered Tiriki. “But the shrine will be a noble tomb.”
    She was still speaking when the earth heaved once more and propelled them out through the portico. As they sprawled on the roadway a pillar of fire exploded upward from the mountain and the Shrine of the Omphalos collapsed with a rending roar.
     
    Muscles and balance told Tiriki that they were going downhill as they struggled onward. But that was all she knew for sure. She jumped and nearly dropped the handle of the cabinet that held the Omphalos as the front wall of a house slammed into the street. Beyond it a second building was collapsing with gentle deliberation, as if it were falling asleep. A dark figure emerged from one of the homes, hesitated, and then dashed back into the falling building with a cry.
    “I can smell the harbor,” gasped Damisa. “We’re almost there!”
    A breath of moist air blessed Tiriki’s cheeks and brow. Above the crackle of flames and the groans of dying buildings she could hear the almost reassuring sound of human shouts and screams. She had begun to fear they were the only ones left alive on the isle.
    And now they could see the water and the masts that tossed in the harbor. Boats bounded across the dark waters, heading out to sea. Two wingbirds had collided and were sinking in a tangled mass while bobbing figures swam for the shore. As they hurried forward the ground shook as if to propel them on their way. Rocks tumbled