She surfaced and swam toward the beach. A’stoc was watching her, but he started and turned away when she stood up in the shallow water. “Do you like to swim, A’stoc? You should come in. The water is wonderful.”

  “I—I think not, enchantress,” he said. “I prefer to rest while I have the chance. Please let me sleep.”

  “But it is restful,” she said. “It’s better than sleep. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” A’stoc growled, snapping his head around to glare at Chentelle. “How can you—I—”

  The wizard stammered to a halt, a flush coming to his cheeks. Then he dropped his face into his hands. “Please, just let me be.”

  Chentelle winced at the sadness in his voice, but she did not know how to help. She remembered again how unnatural humans could be about naturalness. Maybe that was part of the problem. Wordlessly, she turned and dived back into the waves.

  The Legionnaires returned just before dark. The valley near the beach showed no signs of habitation by men, but Thildemar had discovered signs of a partially overgrown trail on the south bank of the river. Father Marcus conferred briefly with Dacius, and they agreed to wait until Ellistar rose again before heading inland. The red daytime of Deneob would be spent in rest and preparation.

  Chentelle lay under the shade of a tree and struggled to relax. It was hot and humid, and Deneob’s red glare seemed inescapable. Finally, fatigue took her. She slept. And she dreamed of yellow eyes that followed her wherever she moved.

  Once Ellistar rose, Thildemar led them into the rain forest. The old elf slid through the brush like a phantom, passing through gaps in the foliage that seemed to appear magically before him and vanish just as quickly behind. He kept them close to the river where possible, but in many places the undergrowth was too thick. Drup and Alve used cutlasses from the Treachery’s stores to widen the paths that Thildemar found, but progress was slow. The heat was oppressive, and only Chantelle’s Gift prevented the insects from being the same.

  Finally, they came to the trail. At first, it seemed no more passable than the bare jungle behind them, but gradually it widened into a true footpath. They wound their way single file through the forest for perhaps a league. Then the path opened up into a small clearing.

  Thildemar signaled a halt. “I think we should rest here,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Dacius raised an eyebrow, but nodded his assent. They broke out some rations and ate a spare meal.

  “We are being watched,” Thildemar said in an even tone, spacing his words between mouthfuls.

  “Are you certain?” Dacius asked.

  Thildemar nodded. “He moves ahead of us.”

  “Goblin?”

  Thildemar shrugged. “I do not think so, but the tracks are unclear.”

  “He is human,” Sulmar said quietly. “Twice, I have seen him through the trees.”

  Dacius cocked his head and regarded the Tengarian. “Can you bring him in?”

  Sulmar nodded.

  “When we move on,” said Dacius, “fall back and slip into the forest. Try to herd him closer to us. If we hear or see him, we’ll try to cut off his escape. I want him alive. If we can’t capture him without injury, let him go. We don’t need to make unnecessary enemies.”

  He stood and shouldered his pack. “Break’s over, Legionnaires.”

  Once more, Thildemar led them along the forest path, but this time he had one less follower.

  Chentelle stayed close behind Dacius, resting a hand on his pack so that she could follow him without full alertness. Slowly, she let her awareness expand, reaching out into the forest to find the watcher. She kept just enough attention on her body to keep it moving. She drifted through the dense web of life that surrounded them, searching for the complex thoughts and feelings that would set the human apart.

  It was hard to keep herself divided. She kept stumbling on the uneven path and getting distracted by the sheer volume of life in this place. Finally, she managed to orient on the steady presence of Sulmar, working his way through the brush. She knew that he would be headed toward the watcher, so she used his progress as a guide.

  There! Nervousness, fear, excitement, curiosity: that had to be him. His emotions were a jumble. He was afraid, but thrilled by the fear. Who were they? Enemies? Strangers? Was there a difference? What should he do?

  Wait. What was that? Oh, no! They’ve discovered him. Run! No, not that way. Have to lead them away. Run. Run. Aahh, another one. Hide. No, keep running. Wait. What—

  “Ooof.” Chentelle doubled over in pain. It felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.

  “I have him,” Sulmar called.

  In a moment, the Tengarian stepped onto the path ahead of them, carrying a small human over one shoulder. He dropped the man onto the ground and stepped back.

  The human scrambled into a crouch, but did not try to run. He was small and lean, not much larger than an elf. He was naked save for a loincloth and a leather pouch, but his dark hair and thin mustaches were neatly trimmed. His eyes darted through the company nervously while he struggled to breathe.

  “Is he injured?” asked Father Marcus. “Gorin, you are closer. See to his wounds.”

  Gorin worked his way past the intervening Legionnaires, and laid a claw on the stranger’s chest, searching for injury. The man jumped to his right, gurgling in fear. His eyes rolled backward, and he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  10

  Village

  “Is he all right?” Dacius asked.

  “I think so, Lord Gemine.” Gorin rolled the stranger over and examined his chest. “I see no injuries. He has only fainted.”

  “He was frightened,” Chentelle said. “Your appearance scared him.”

  “Perhaps he has never seen a goblin before,” Gorin said.

  “Or perhaps he has seen too many,” A’stoc broke in.

  The man on the ground moaned softly.

  “He’s waking up,” Dacius said. “Gorin, perhaps your face should not be the first thing he sees.”

  The goblin nodded and slid back behind the Legionnaires.

  The stranger opened his eyes. Slowly, he lifted himself onto one elbow and shook his head. Then his eyes snapped open, and he burst into action. He scrambled backward, trying to turn, jump to his feet, and start running simultaneously. Of course, since Sulmar was standing immediately behind him, he succeeded only in tripping over the Tengarian’s leg and falling face first into the dirt.

  “Please,” he sputtered, “don’t hurt me.”

  Chentelle felt the bitter tinge of his fear. It quivered against her Gift like a taut string, ready to snap at any moment. She let the music rise within her. Softly, ever so gently, she started to sing. Half-whispered words reached out, soothing the man’s fear, easing the tension that jarred his spirit. She moved as she sang, inching closer to the human until she could sit close enough to touch him with her hands as well as her voice.

  “Easy,” she said, resting her fingers on his wrist. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.”

  The human’s deep brown eyes locked on to hers. “Wha—What are you?”

  “I am an enchantress,” she said. “My friends and I just want to ask you a few questions. Why were you spying on us?”

  “I wasn’t spying,” he said. “I just saw you in the forest when I was gathering food to take—” He stopped and glanced at Brother Gorin, barely visible between Drup and Alve. “No. I have never seen enchantresses before, but if you travel with goblins then I will not answer your questions.”

  Enchantresses? “Oh, I see. No, we are not all enchantresses.” She ran a finger along one ear. “I am an elf. Some of my companions are elves, too, but only I am an enchantress. My name is Chentelle.”

  He nodded. “I understand. I am Kelmek. You are very beautiful, Enchantress Chentelle. Why do you travel with monsters?”

  “Brother Gorin isn’t a monster,” she said. “He’s kind and good. He’s a member of the Holy Order.”

  “A priest?” the man said. “I don’t believe you. Goblins are cruel and vicious. They slaughter my people and serve the demons under Hel’s Crown.”

  “But Gorin is different,” Chentelle protested.

  “Chentelle is right,” Darius said, stepping forward slowly. “I know how you feel. Goblins murdered my family and my betrothed. I have fought against them for most of my life. But Gorin is, indeed, different from other goblins. He serves the Holy Order faithfully, and he has risked everything to help us in our quest.”

  Kelmek frowned. “Your words sound true. I can hardly believe that Enchantress Chentelle would have evil companions, but how can I be sure?”

  Chentelle squeezed his wrist gently. “I know it’s hard, Kelmek. But you have to trust us. Look into your heart. It will show you that we are not your enemies.”

  “I don’t know,” Kelmek said, shaking his head. “It is true that you do not look like the other monsters, but what if you serve the same demons?”

  Chentelle felt the man’s fear starting to stir. “Kelmek, you ha—”

  “One moment.” Father Marcus squeezed past Dacius and squatted down next to Kelmek. “Please excuse the interruption, Chentelle, but I need to know something. Kelmek, my name is Father Marcus. I, too, am a member of the Holy Order. Please tell me, have you seen these demons that the goblins serve?”

  “Well, no,” he said. “But they say the demons live underneath Hel’s Crown. That’s why they summon the goblins from the Mouth of the Sea, to extend their power through the Sacred City.”

  “The Sacred City?” Marcus asked. “Where is that? Can you tell us how to find it?”

  “You don’t know?” Kelmek asked. “Then you must not serve the demons.” He lifted himself to his feet. “This is too much for me to decide. Since you are not with the other monsters, I will take you to the village. Elihaz will know what to do.”

  “Elihaz?” Marcus asked.

  “The Holy Priest,” Kelmek said. “Come on. Follow me.”

  “Wait,” said Dacius. “You said the goblins were coming from the Mouth of the Sea. Where is that?”

  “The Mouth of Sea?” Kelmek said. “About three leagues to the south, where the Stone City used to be.”

  Dacius’ hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. “Fires of Hel,” he muttered, “three leagues.”

  Kelmek led them at a brisk pace. They climbed out of the jungle and onto rolling plains. High mountains rose to the south, but they continued westward, following the path of the river. Almost immediately, isolated farmsteads started to decorate the landscape. But the fields were all barren, and not a single building remained whole and undamaged. The trail of devastation continued until they came to a winding path, leading south into the foothills.

  They climbed. After a few minutes, they reached a small plateau. Patches of cultivated land ringed the edge of the plateau and continued up and down the mountainside in terraced layers. The center of the plateau housed the village itself: a dozen crude stone buildings were arranged around a central square. A large building filled the far side of the square, extending backward until it met the rock walls of the mountain behind.

  A few people were scattered through the fields and houses, but they ran for shelter as soon as they saw the company. A bell started to ring, and suddenly dozens of people were running for the large building. As the last person entered, large wooden doors slammed shut behind them. Finally, the bell stopped ringing.

  “Your people are certainly fearful of strangers,” A’stoc said.

  “We have learned to be,” Kelmek replied, leading them into the village square. “We have had to.”

  “But you don’t need to be afraid of us,” said Chentelle.

  Kelmek came to a halt near a rock-lined well that filled the center of the village square. He smiled at Chentelle. “I am not, but my people have not heard you sing. They have not felt your beauty. They know only that I have brought strange monsters to the village, so they run to the temple. Wait here. I will go and talk to Elihaz.”

  As Kelmek approached the temple, a viewing portal opened in the middle of one of the great doors. The gate swung open quickly and Kelmek was ushered inside. Then the door crashed shut again.

  “I wonder how this village survives,” Dacius said, eyes shifting across the open plateau. “With proper fortifications this place could be defended, but as it is, even a moderate goblin patrol could overrun the village.”

  “Look around you, Lord Gemine,” A’stoc said. “What purpose would there be to an attack? There is nothing of worth in this desolate hole.”

  “But there have been attacks,” Chentelle protested. “Kelmek said so. Besides, I think you’re wrong. There’s something special about this place, something charming. I think the people will help us.”

  “You are naive. These people care nothing for our quest.” The wizard shook his head. “Have you learned nothing since this quest began? Why are you even here? Your childish hopes will lead us all to ruin.”

  “Wizard,” Dacius said stiffly, “you are out of line. Chentelle has proven herself again and again. Our quest may well have been lost without her courage and resourcefulness, and everyone but you recognizes how special she is. I do not pretend to understand the meaning of her visions, but it is clear that the Creator has chosen her for an important task. If you can’t show her the respect she’s earned, then at least show some common courtesy.”

  “Lord Gemine,” A’stoc said coldly, “I require neither your spiritual conjectures nor your lessons in protocol.” He turned to Chentelle. “You should at least have waited aboard the Treachery. You would have been safer there.”

  Chentelle blinked in surprise. He was worried about her! She started to frame a reply, but A’stoc had already spun on his heel and stalked out of the square.

  “Do not fear, mistress,” Sulmar said. “I will not let you come to harm.”

  Chentelle realized that her shoulders were trembling. She calmed herself with a deep breath and smiled at her liegeman. “Thank you, Sulmar. I know that.”

  Eventually, the wizard chose to rejoin the company, but the mood for conversation had passed. They waited in silence until the door to the temple opened again.

  Villagers skittered through the portal, singly at first, then in twos and threes. Most of them gave the company a wide berth, skirting around the edge of the square, but a few approached and welcomed them to the village. One young boy even insisted on greeting each person with a kiss on the cheek and a boisterous hug.

  After the exodus was complete, Kelmek beckoned to them from the doorway. “Enchantress Chentelle, please bring your companions into the temple. Elihaz will see you now.”

  Chentelle looked to Father Marcus, but the priest just smiled good-naturedly and bowed, indicating that she should lead the way. Blushing slightly, she walked toward the temple.

  Three paces from the door, she staggered and nearly fell. Sulmar was at her side in an instant, but even before the Tengarian caught her, the concern on his face melted into understanding. The world had come alive.

  Chentelle laughed in delight as bliss and security filled her spirit. The air was filled with harmony, with the presence of the Creator, with peace. It was like being in the Holy Land—but, no, it was not. The rock walls of the temple remained cold and inert, and the power barely permeated the earth under their feet. It was only an echo of the Holy Land, faint but no less precious for that weakness.

  One by one the company entered the temple and felt its weak power. Even A’stoc smiled as he entered.

  “Blessed Creator,” Father Marcus said. “How is this possible?”

  Kelmek smiled. “Elihaz,” he said simply.

  They followed Kelmek deeper into the temple. He led them into a large, dimly lit chamber. Benches were arranged in a circle around a raised dais that held a simple stone altar. An old man sat on the dais, his back to the altar and his legs hanging casually off the edge of the platform. Like Kelmek, he was dressed only in a leather loincloth, though he also wore a spherical pendant on a thong around his neck. Candles flickered on the altar, showing a deeply lined face and sparkling brown eyes.

  The old man pointed at Father Marcus. “I sense evil within you.”

  Kelmek jumped as if he had been struck. “I didn’t know, Elihaz. I—”

  The Holy Priest held up a hand, silencing the villager. “It’s all right, Kelmek. You may go.”

  The young man bowed and backed from the chamber. His eyes stayed locked on to Father Marcus until the door closed between them.

  “Well?” Elihaz said, turning back to Father Marcus.

  “I will not deceive you,” the High Bishop said. “I carry the knowledge of evil within me, but I do not serve its cause. I am Marcus Alanda, High Bishop of the Holy Order in Norivika, leader of the Holy Land of Talan. I believe in the sanctity of the Creation, and I follow the will of the Creator as well as I am able.”

  “That is a very long title,” Elihaz said. “My own is Elihaz the Elder, Holy Priest, Protector and Spiritual Guide for the village, but most people just call me Elihaz.”

  Father Marcus bowed his head politely. “It is an honor to meet you, Elihaz. Please, call me Father Marcus.”

  Elihaz motioned to the benches. “Have a seat, Father Marcus. I think we have much to talk about. First, though, please introduce me to your companions.”

  One by one, they were presented to the Holy Priest. The old man greeted each of them and bade them to sit. His manner was friendly, almost jovial, but there was a penetrating nature to his questions. The tranquillity that filled the temple paled in comparison to the harmony of the Holy Land, but it was enough to guide Elihaz in his inquiries. Chentelle had no doubt that he was passing judgment upon them. And the success of their quest could depend on the outcome of that judgment.

  The old priest gave particular attention to each of the Legionnaires, asking about the nature of their lives and beliefs. He talked with Thildemar about the sanctity of life and discussed family and duty with Leth and Gerruth. Drup and Alve were questioned about duty and responsibility. Dacius he chose to ask about sorrow and lost comrades. But when he came to Gorin, he asked no questions. He simply walked over and embraced the goblin. “You have a strong spirit, Brother Gorin. The Creator is truly merciful, to bring you here now.”