As they burst out onto the street, Sarah spotted one of the missing patrons from the bar. He was standing at the head of a group of men wearing white masks that displayed emotionless faces. The masked men were heavily armed, wearing swords at their hips. Some carried spears on their backs while the others carried bows and steel glittered from under their pure, white cloaks.
Their cloaks and masks identified their pursuers as the Treton Church’s Inquisitors. They were largely responsible for detaining and punishing heretics, those who practised and spread the word of the forbidden religions, or in other words, those who did not worship one of the five gods of the Pantheon. They were known to the common folk as the Faceless because of the masks they wore and were notorious for their doggedness and their brutality.
“There they are,” the patron shouted, pointing at Sarah.
“The Faceless,” John breathed, “what do they want with us?”
“Let’s not stay to find out,” Grimald replied tersely.
“Stop, in Treto’s name!” one of them ordered as the Grimald and the others began walking in the opposite direction.
Grimald broke into a run, and Sarah was close behind while John fell back and stealthily dropped a handful of caltrops before catching back up.
“Where do we go now?” he panted.
Grimald looked over his shoulder and pressed his mouth into a hard line. “We’re leaving town.”
As they turned a corner, an arrow clattered off the stony ground. Their pursuers meant business. She heard the sound of men falling as they trod on John’s caltrops, but no screams, which she found unnerving. A look over her shoulder confirmed that the caltrops had claimed victims. However, many of the men in the faceless masks remained in pursuit.
“Halt now in Treto’s name!” one of them shouted.
The voice sounded close. Sarah swallowed and steeled her resolve. They were out to kill, and she had no intention of being caught. Their lives could well hang in the balance. She chanted softly and spun around.
“Dragon’s breath!”
Blue flame shot from her mouth, engulfing a man who had drawn his sword and had been about to use it. He dropped, but again, no sound escaped his lips. One of his companions came to a halt and began to pray. Sarah watched for a little too long, worried about his fate, but before she could see if he could be healed, John pulled her around the corner.
They exchanged looks as they continued running up the road. Rain continued to pelt them, and people watched curiously from the windows. Soon, they came to they found themselves on the edge of town. A single road wound its way through a dense forest of evergreens. Grimald took a moment to get his bearings before leading them into the woods.
“I thought this town worshipped Jord,” John gasped once they had lost sight of the road. They had seen no sign of their pursuers since leaving the town and it seemed they were safe for now.
“We’re still in the Four Kingdoms,” Grimald pointed out, “the Treton Church is supreme here.”
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” John asked as Grimald led them deeper into the woods.
“I have an inkling,” the dwarf replied. He looked at the trees and then at the sun before changing course slightly to the right.
“Why do you suppose they were after us?” Sarah ventured.
“I don’t know,” Grimald said without turning around.
“We’re going uphill,” John pointed out.
“I’m aware of that,” Grimald replied absently as he examined a rocky ridge to their left.
“Shouldn’t we be heading down the mountain?” John pressed.
“We will, in time,” Grimald said, “first, we need to find Udoriol’s little hovel.”
Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise. “But he made it clear that he doesn’t want to work with us.”
“I’m afraid we’re a little stuck without him,” Grimald replied, “Roldo didn’t give me any alternative names.”
“So let’s go back to Woodhop and ask him for some,” said John.
“We both know that if Roldo only gave me one name, it means we have to recruit him by hook or by crook,” Grimald snapped.
“Were our names on that list?” Sarah ventured.
Grimald paused and turned to look at her. “No,” he said distantly, “I insisted on the two of you.”
John swallowed and calmed down as he understood the dwarf’s predicament. Grimald had stuck his neck out for them. If this venture failed at the first hurdle, he would be the one to take the blame.
“This is one of the rare times I wish Stanley was with us,” Grimald sniffed as he looked at the trees that all looked identical, “or Tom, the two of them could find their way through a maze in pitch darkness.”
Sarah bit her lip as she felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She was the reason why neither of them was here.
“Why’s that Udoriol living out in here on the edge of civilization anyway?” John asked.
Grimald turned around and gave John a look. “He’s excommunicated, which means he’s done something terrible in the eyes of the Church. He’s an elf, so he won’t be welcome in the dwarven kingdoms, and as a Treto worshipper, he’s an outcast to his own people, so the elven kingdoms are out as well. There aren’t many places left where someone like him can live.”
“That sounds very sad,” Sarah remarked, “what did he do to get himself excommunicated?”
The dwarf shrugged. “Roldo didn’t say.”
“Do you have a problem with elves?” John asked.
“As I said, I worship Jord,” Grimald replied, “the long ears don’t bother me in a general sense.”
Grimald sighed as he pulled a map from his pocket. “Nope, I can’t make head nor tail of this blasted thing.”
“Could that be it?” John asked, pointing at a cave high above them. Its mouth appeared to be in a lee, protected from the wind by a sharp outcropping.
Grimald gave his map another look and shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but it can’t hurt to look.”
“We’re out in the mountains with no supplies,” John pointed out, “we can’t search for him for long.”
“Fine,” Grimald sighed as looked at the terrain ahead to plan a route to the cave, “we take a look at that cave, and if there’s still no sign of him, we give up and head down the mountain.”
“Say,” Sarah remarked as they began climbing the rocky rise, “why is there a map leading to his place?”
Grimald turned around and made a face. “He gave it to one of the people in town so that they could forward him things from time to time. It took me a while to track it down, and then I found out he made regular visits to town for supplies anyway.”
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“I thought elves were experts at living off the land,” John pointed out.
“That’s what I’d heard too,” Grimald cried exasperatedly. He shook his head and continued climbing, “At least my efforts to track this map down weren’t in vain.”
“We don’t know that yet,” John remarked under his breath.
Sarah looked over her shoulder as they climbed, and a glimpse of movement in the trees below caught her eye.
“What is it?” John asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. She stared at the trees to see if she could see what it was, but to no avail.
“Perhaps it was a squirrel,” she said at length.
The rest of the climb was treacherous. Grimald slipped on the loose footing and would have fallen had John and Sarah not been there to steady him. Eventually, they arrived at the rocky ledge in front of the cave and collapsed on the ground, thoroughly exhausted.
After they had sprawled on the ground for a spell, Sarah summoned the strength to raise her hand and saw that her fingers were bleeding, and her nails were split. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. The route they had taken was the only one they could see, and it didn’t make much sense for anyone to be living in the cave if that was the only way in or out. She rolled over and got to her feet, deciding that after all the effort they had spent getting up here, the least they could do was be sure.
To her surprise, she spied an old table and chair, positioned to look out over at the valley beyond, and a bedroll. A spartan dwelling, to say the least. Now, the question was how long it would take for the elf to show up.
They didn’t wait long. Grimald and John had just recovered enough strength to move into the cave to take shelter from the rain when a head of shaggy blond hair popped up from the rise. The rest of the elf appeared moments later, climbing the steep rise as easily as one would a flight of stairs.
“Pardon me,” Udoriol frowned upon seeing them, “you are trespassing in my home, and I do believe I said I have no further business with you.”
“Hear us out, eh?” Grimald said as he rubbed his aching legs. He paused and gave the elf a pained look, “I don’t know how you’ve climbed that without so much as breaking a sweat.”
Udoriol smiled wryly as he placed a large backpack next to his bedroll before casting a sideways glance at Sarah, who was sitting next to John on the opposite side of the small cave.
“I’m sure your offer is very attractive, Master…” Udoriol paused and smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Grimald,” the dwarf replied, “the young lady’s name is Sarah, and the boy is John.”
“I’m not a boy,” John snapped.
“As I said, I’m sure your offer is very attractive, Master Grimald,” the elf continued, “but I try not to stay too close to Agni’s Chosen. I’ve seen what they are capable of first hand on no less than three occasions.”
A silence hung over the cave as Udoriol looked pointedly at Sarah.
“What happened to them?” Sarah asked in a small voice.
“Their flames engulfed them, and they caused great destruction to their surroundings until they finally collapsed, utterly spent and reduced to ash,” the elf replied bluntly.
Sarah looked at the ground and fell silent. John put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned on him for support and gained strength from his touch.
“When was the last time He spoke to you?” Udoriol ventured at length.
Sarah shuddered as she drew a deep breath. “Last night.”
She saw a flash of surprise in John’s face and dangled her head in misery.
“What does he tell you?” the elf asked gently.
“To surrender to him,” she replied.
“And what do you tell him?”
“That I won’t,” her voice was scarcely a whisper.
Udoriol nodded thoughtfully. “For what it’s worth, the Chosen I saw gave themselves to Him willingly.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance she can resist him?” John asked hopefully.
The elf shrugged his wiry shoulders. “Who can say? We’re talking about attempting to resist a god of the Pantheon.”
A flock of birds burst from the trees in the valley below, filling the air with the sounds of their annoyed squawks and the beating of their wings. The elf stalked out of the cave with the others close behind.
“What is it?” Grimald asked as the elf studied the valley below.
“Inquisitors,” Udoriol replied, “they must be here for me.”
“You have inquisitors after you?” Grimald asked, “What did you do?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to share that with you,” Udoriol said with a humourless smile, “but I am known by most as Udoriol the Excommunicated, after all.”
“How many of them?” Grimald asked.
“Seven,” Udoriol replied.
“So we fight them,” John declared, “we have the high ground.”
Sarah grasped John’s arm.
“We have no choice, they’re out to kill us as well, remember?” John hissed.
Sarah bit her lip. He was right. It was kill or be killed, but it still made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but wonder if the man she had set ablaze back in the town was among their pursuers.
Grimald looked over his shoulder at the cave. “That’s a dead end, isn’t it?”
“There is no escape there,” the elf confirmed.
“Say, you’ll owe us if we help you out of this little jam, won’t you?” Grimald smirked grimly.
Udoriol grunted. “Hardly. They’ll want to take you in as well merely for associating with me.”
“We could say we had no idea who you were,” Grimald pointed out.
The elf looked the dwarf in the eye. “You do know that we’re dealing with the Inquisition here.”
Grimald winced. “You have a point.”
He turned to Sarah and said, “You get back to the mouth of the cave. Don’t use your spells unless they’re up here on this ledge.”
“But you’ll be in the way,” Sarah protested.
“Then you’d better be on top of your control,” Grimald warned, “I don’t want you tossing your fire into those trees. We’ll all be dead if you start a fire down there.”
“It’s been raining for days,” John protested, “nothing’s going to catch down there.”
“That’s not a chance I’m willing to take,” Grimald said as he readied his axe, “she only uses her magic on people up here on this ledge. End of discussion.”
Sarah nodded and took her position while John nocked an arrow in his short bow. “Here they come,” he said as he peered over the edge.
He drew his bow and loosed a shot. He grimaced a few moments later. “This won’t pierce their armour.”
Udoriol, meanwhile, took a moment to mutter a short prayer. A moment later, Sarah was reinvigorated. Her aches and scrapes from the arduous climb had healed, and she felt power surge through her body.
“Here they come,” John warned as he backed away from the edge.
Udoriol retrieved his shield from amongst his belongings and drew his sword as he joined Grimald close to the edge of the shelf, while John positioned himself between them and Sarah.
“Udoriol Andorel!” called a strong and stern voice from the rise, “you are wanted for crimes against the faith. Come quietly and we will pray Treto for mercy on your soul.”
The elf smiled grimly before replying, “Whatever crimes I committed were against His servants here in this realm.”
“Still you spew your heresy!” the voice said indignantly, “we are His representatives in this realm and speak in His name! A transgression against us is one against the divine!”
“And yet, I can still call upon His powers,” Udoriol said absently.
“And now you cavort with the Chosen of Agni!” the voice continued, “What are you plotting?”
Udoriol exchanged a brief look with Grimald before replying, “That is none of your concern.”
“So be it,” the voice said, “you have made your bed, now lie in it!”
With unbelievable strength and agility, a white cloaked figure leapt from the rise, over the surprised heads of Udoriol and Grimald, and landed in front of John. The masked figure took a moment to draw his longsword, giving John just enough time to recover from his surprise and parry the blow with his daggers.
The swing had a surprising amount of strength behind it given the light build of the inquisitor, and it swept John aside like he was a ragdoll, sending him hurtling into the cave.
“John!” Sarah cried, knowing better than to take her eyes off her opponent to check on him, despite desperately wanting to.
Up ahead, Udoriol stepped forward and aimed a savage kick and one of the men who was clambering up, sending him falling. Four others climbed up at the same time. Grimald hacked at one’s hands as he climbed, taking three fingers off with his axe, but the man did not make a sound. He lunged at the dwarf, forcing him to withdraw and soon, Grimald and Udoriol were surrounded.
Sarah knew she had to deal with the man who had sent John flying quickly, so Grimald and Udoriol could fight without having to worry about their backs.
“Fire blast!” she cried as she held her hand out towards him using as little power as possible.
Her opponent raised his sword and the air around it shimmered as a jet of blue flame shot from her hand and crashed against the invisible barrier. She contemplated using a more powerful spell but feared that her allies were too close. The situation on their end had turned into a melee. They were holding their own for now, but they were outnumbered and would soon be overwhelmed.
Her opponent saw that she was distracted for an instant and darted forward. Sarah twisted out of the way of his sword and came at him from his side. Sarah stretched out her hands and positioned them so that her foe was between them and the side of the outcropping.
“Burning hands!”
A pillar of blue fire erupted from her hands. Her opponent’s body shimmered briefly as the spell of protection attempted to ward off the flames. However, it could not contain the power of Sarah’s spell and shattered in an instant. Her spell had been so powerful that it had scorched the rockface behind her opponent but, to her horror, the man attempted to grab hold of Sarah as he burned. It was a last, desperate attempt to take her with him. However, before he could take a second step, the flames overwhelmed him and all that remained of him was ash.
Sarah looked up at the melee and saw that the dwarf and the elf were being overwhelmed. The men wearing the emotionless white masks attacked deliberately and with precisely coordinated choreography, slowly exhausting their foes. She knew she had to do something, but they were too close together now. That John had not reappeared also worried her and a feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her as she tried desperately to come up with some way to help.
“Surrender to me,” a deep voice inside her bellowed.
She felt power surge within her and raised her hands to see that they had become engulfed in blue fire. Then, she became aware of another entity within her, taking control. She watched in horror as her arm raised itself towards the fighting. She tried to lower it but could not. It felt like she was a spectator, watching herself about to do something terrible. Power surged in her arm, and she knew the spell would be powerful enough to kill everyone on the ledge.
“No!” she screamed but found she could make no sound.
The voice filled her ears, drowning out everything else. “You are Chosen.”