Sanctuary

She picked her way through the rings of chiefs and warriors. Standing on the rim of the gray slab of slate, she pointed northward. Three mountain peaks, known by the nomads as Torghan’s Teeth, were aligned in a perfectly spaced row. Half a day’s ride straight toward them led to the only pass into the Valley of the Blue Sands. So tall were the three that their tops were dusted with snow that never melted. The sky above the mountains, streaked by feathery clouds, seemed boundless as the sea. The sun was nearly gone behind the western range. The setting sun left the three mountains in shadow but touched the high clouds and the snowy tips of the Teeth with orange and crimson.

“Hear me, High Ones!” Adala cried. “The time has come for justice! If I am to be Your instrument, make it known to all! I care nothing for fame or glory, Mighty Gods, only for Your will and the rights of my people.” She flung her arms wide. “Show me my maita. Show the world!”

Her last words rang over the harsh landscape, echoing against the faraway slopes of the Teeth.

For several long minutes there was silence, broken only by the muttered comments of several of the men behind her. Then out of the clear breadth of sky, thunder rolled.

The men stirred. They hadn’t expected to hear or see anything. From his place behind Adala’s seat, Wapah bowed his head. The Weyadan was the Weyadan; he would never doubt her again.

A second, louder clap of thunder boomed, caroming off the Pillars of Heaven for an endless time. By the time the echoes died, the entire council was on its feet.

Bilath shouted, “Those on High have spoken! Adala maita! Adala maita!” The others took up the cry, turning it into a chant.

Adala lowered her hands, crossing her arms and bringing her hands to rest on her chest. She was breathing heavily, with tears filling her eyes. She had believed in her fate, but this display of divine favor was overwhelming. That the gods would condescend to give so obvious a sign before the doubters of her own people-this was the greatest moment of her life.

Gwarali approached, halting respectfully three paces away. “Weyadan, we will follow you,” he said simply.

Six miles away, the sand beast was scrambling over the rocky ledges when it caught the scent of the nomad army. Poised between two spires of stone, it slowly turned its angular head, tasting the breeze. Humans, many humans, but no hint of elves. The intervening foothills confused it, limiting its usual range of sight and smell. The beast had been paralleling the elves for two days, but must have gotten ahead of them during the night. It would have to double back.

Legs like coiled steel sent the monster vaulting from its perch, and it began to run. So rapidly did the beast move, it rent the air asunder, sending cracks of thunder ringing in its wake.

Some miles away the Lioness, leading her depleted troop, heard the thunder as well. She held up a hand to halt the column. Favaronas, plodding along a dozen yards back, trotted to her.

“Did you hear it?” he demanded. “Did you hear that thunder?”

They knew well what such a sound from a clear sky meant. She told her officers to send flankers out a hundred yards. “But make sure they keep in sight of the column,” she cautioned.

She wet a kerchief with a few drops of water, then offered the gourd to Favaronas while she dabbed her face with the damp cloth.

“What can we do if the thing attacks again? Will the magical orb work a second time?” Favaronas asked.

She shrugged, tying her hair back with the damp kerchief. Her knowledge of magical artifacts was limited. She changed the subject. “Have you any idea why this creature should be following us so doggedly?” she asked.

The scholar didn’t. He knew only what he’d told her earlier, that sand beasts were wild animals of the deep desert, and rare. Obviously the creature was a predator, but what sort of predator would follow armed and mounted warriors over several days and many miles?

“Only the two-legged kind,” Kerian said dryly. “And that’s who I think set this monster on our trail. A two-legged predator.”

When the flanking riders were in place, watching for attack or ambush, she waved the column forward. They would reach the Inath-Wakenti in two days. More and more, she felt the foolishness of Gilthas’s idea to send their people there. Even if the valley proved to have a temperate climate, it wasn’t their natural home, and never would be. Witless nomads and bloodthirsty beasts were the only creatures suited to this harsh, terrible land. Elves needed the cool green woods of the lands that had given them birth and sustenance through the ages. Without them, would they not soon cease to be elves?