An Abyss of Light (The Light Trilogy) by Kathleen M. O'Neal Read Free Book Online Page A

brilliant maroon.
    She closed her eyes. “Be’ol’mo deevro chiroosey—”
    “We’re not going to die. You’ll see. He’s come to forgive us.”
    Rachel shook her head.
    “Rebels?” a voice boomed from the samael. “Greetings from the Mashiah.”
    “Dear God, let us go!” Talo shrieked.
    A din rose in the square, people screaming for mercy, striking those next to them to drive them far enough away that the Mashiah could see their waving arms and repentant faces. But Rachel knew the voice belonged not to Adom, but to Ornias. She’d heard that breathy coo a thousand times. The samael dropped lower, gliding slowly over the mob.
    “I’ll convert!” a man screamed. “Let me convert to the religion of Milcom!”
    “I’ve seen the Truth! I know the Mashiah is the promised Deliverer. Let me …”
    Similar wails swelled throughout the prison, people weeping and promising allegiance to Adom Kemar Tartarus if only he would let their children live.
    Rachel gazed down at the soft outline of Sybil’s legs betrayed beneath the hem of her robe. Was her baby dead? Is that why she didn’t move even though a cacophony of shrieks and shouts filled the air? Horrifyingly, she hoped it was so. She didn’t want to see what they might do to her only child. “Better dead than made an example of by the Mashiah.”
    “No,” Talo insisted, eyes glistening with tears of hope. “He’s going to save us. I feel it. Don’t you feel it? God has sent him to release—”
    “Witness,” Ornias crooned from the black ship, “the power of the Mashiah you have each turned against.”
    A blinding flash of violet slashed a six foot wide trench into the red soil by the far wall. The human beings who’d been standing there vanished in a crimson splash. Rachel shielded her eyes as dust and debris blasted into the air. Thank God … thank God he’s using the ship’s weapons rather than letting the marines use their rifles. Death under the cannons came quickly, painlessly.
    Screams eddied through the square, people shoving to get as far from the deadly beams as possible. A thick, choking veil of dust rose. Rachel didn’t move, afraid that if she reached down to pick up Sybil the child would be dead and she couldn’t bear it. Frightened men and women pushed around her, crowding desperately against the back wall.
    In the space created, Rachel saw a boy sitting on the ground next to his dead mother. His eyes stared absently at nothing as he tenderly stroked her stiff hand, murmuring soft words. In the background, guards trotted around the walls, resuming their former positions. Except that this time, their rifles hummed, a slash of sound beneath the wails of terror.
    She closed her eyes, every muscle in her body going tense with her last ounce of strength. “Ve’yamlich malchoosy—”
    And then the firing began.
    The masses panicked, running headlong to avoid the lashing beams of death that panned the square. Several people struck Rachel at once. She threw herself on top of Sybil. People toppled over them and, in horror, Rachel realized the hot liquid drenching her was blood.
    The shrill squeals of the rifles continued endlessly, like wails filtering from a half-open door leading to the pit of darkness. After about ten minutes, the bursts of fire went from constant to sporadic. As though anyone living who raised his head became the next target.
    Very quietly, Rachel heard Sybil moan, and a wave of relief and despair vied inside her. Alive? Oh, dear God, alive for what purpose? To suffer another two days until the thirst killed them?
    “Mom?”
    “Lie still.”
    “Thirsty … Mommy.”
    “You sleep, baby. When you wake up again. I promise, we’ll find water.” Yes, we’ll find water, if we’re alive to crawl. Surreptitiously, she patted her daughter’s arm and gazed upward, through the tangled mass of bodies, to the sky.
    A few stars poked through the blanket of the heavens. Brilliant suns floating in a vast void of cold. Rachel