Sanctuary

“I’m accustomed to it. Besides, I prefer it to the local style. Too much like a woman’s dress. Males are not allowed within this temple, you know.”

While he talked, the elves desperately searched the darkness behind him. Hengriff seemed alone. Although a formidable-looking fighter, the Knight could hardly hope to best two agile, sword-armed elves. Still, he seemed supremely confident.

Hytanthas said, “We have business with the high priestess. We’re known to her.”

“Business? What business could elves have with a fusty old priestess?”

“Our own,” Planchet said, then shoved Hytanthas through the open gate, shouting, “Go!” Unfortunately, the captain, taken by surprise, stumbled.

The Knight shouted a command. Suddenly, the night air was filled with a strange whirring sound.

Four lengths of rope, blackened by soot, hit the pavement in an arc behind Hengriff. Down each rope slid a brawny human dressed all in black-short black tunics, close-fitting trousers, and suede boots. In seconds, the men had landed silently and drawn swords. They sprinted toward the elves.

Planchet jerked Hytanthas to his feet, and the pair scrambled through the gate. The pursuing Nerakans did not try to crowd through the narrow opening, but vaulted the chest-high wall. It delayed them hardly at all. Hengriff approached with more deliberation, entering by the gate.

“I have questions and I want answers,” he said firmly. “You’ll come with us.”

“Not today, Nerakan!”

Hengriff laughed at Hytanthas’s defiant statement. Echoing like a bull’s bellow, the sound filled the courtyard. It died abruptly when light flooded the scene. The double doors to the temple had opened. Silhouetted there, her long shadow reaching out from the colonnade, was a woman.

“Begone! Men of war, you cannot remain on sacred ground!”

Hengriff shouted across the distance, “You don’t command me, Sa’ida, nor my men!”

The high priestess, followed by a handful of acolytes, appeared out of the light. She looked even more commanding than Hengriff. Stern and regal, she kept her eyes fixed on the Knight, and spread her arms wide as she approached. Her white robe seemed to gather the light, surrounding her with a bright, flowing aura.

Without looking away from her, Hengriff ordered his men to take the elves. The four warriors advanced, but when they were just five yards away, the swords suddenly flew from their hands. The Nerakans tried to keep coming, but a powerful force pushed against them. They bent forward at the waist, like men bucking a high wind, though the air was still.

Hengriff put a hand on the hilt of his own sword, but did not draw his weapon. In grim silence he watched his men shoved relentlessly backward across the courtyard and through the opening in the wall. Once in the street, however, they straightened, the unseen pressure no longer affecting them.

“You’ll regret this, healer,” Hengriff rumbled. “You’ve made an enemy.”

“Death was always our enemy! Go!”

The Knight spared a glance at the elves. “This is not finished,” he told them. He and his men departed, submerging into the darkness beyond the sacred enclosure.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Sa’ida sent two acolytes to close the temple gates; the clang of iron broke through the elves’ dazed immobility. Planchet got to his feet and straightened his clothing, brushing dust from his knees. He performed introductions in his most diplomatic manner. Sa’ida pursed her lips, frowning.

“I know who you are. This one”—she nodded at Hytanthas—“has been here before. But you cannot remain. It is forbidden.”

“Yes, lady, I know, but we hoped you could provide sanctuary,” Planchet replied. “The Khan’s soldiers are in the streets, hunting elves.

“It’s not the Khan you need fear, but the followers of Torghan.”

She gestured at her followers. Two gray-haired acolytes approached, received quiet instructions, and departed.

Hytanthas, still dazed by events, found he had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Those men,” he finally asked, “how did you repel them, holy lady?”

“Potent protective spells are woven around our sacred shrine. No one may bear weapons of war into the goddess’s sanctuary.” The two elves glanced down at the swords they wore. “Do not draw them,” she warned. “If you do, you will be driven out, even as they were.”

The gray-haired acolytes returned, each carrying a bundle of clothing. Khurish robes, mostly old and dingy, were laid at the elves’ feet.

“Hengriff is intimate with the Khan. When word reaches him that you are here, soldiers will come. I am sorry, but I cannot offer you any hospitality. You must disguise yourselves and go,” Sa’ida said.