Rathma speaks of his father’s folly, the dragon explained. The folly of keeping Sanctuary secret from those beyond. The Burning Hells know already…and thanks to Lilith’s insanity, the High Heavens will also soon discover this realm…
Through Lilith, Uldyssian—and thus, Mendeln—had learned the name given their world by those who had founded it. The demoness had also mentioned something of its earliest, highly turbulent history, too, yet she had never spoken much, as far as he could recall, of what would happen if those from whom the refugees had fled would all come to know of Sanctuary’s existence. He had supposed that not an important point, anymore, but it was obviously a very, very vital one. Indead, dread spread through Uldyssian’s brother, so much so that he was barely able to blurt out, “And so?”
And so, even if Lilith is foiled and Inarius offers peace…an improbable thing…it is very likely that Sanctuary and all within it—being that which not even the most powerful of either side could have once imagined—will still be destroyed.
“But why?”
There was that in the shifting of Trag’Oul that hinted to Mendeln how disturbed even the great creature was concerning what they discussed. It is what the demons and angels do whenever they come across a potent potential advantage. They fight over it until they destroy the very thing they desire…a fate, sadly, that is better than becoming the fodder for either…
“That is why we need you, Mendeln ul-Diomed,” added Rathma, nodding to the mortal. “That is why we truly need you to stand with us…of your own free will, naturally.”
Mendeln swallowed. Hashir came into sight near noon on the last of the four days that Uldyssian had demanded of his edyrem. They had crossed the vast jungle with a swiftness that no one before them surely had. So Tomo, Saron, and many of the other Torajians claimed…and Uldyssian had no reason to doubt them.
Distant Hashir, as seen from his vantage point, could be no more than half the size of Toraja, but Uldyssian felt that taking the temple there would require a hundred times the effort. Still, he hoped to avoid unnecessary bloodshed…if that was at all possible at this point.
“I want to enter the city in peace,” he told Serenthia and the others. “I want them to see as Toraja did that we mean no harm to those not seeking to harm us. That’s essential.”
“The Triune knows we’re headed this way. They’ve had time to work on the populace. It could be that the people’ve been poisoned against us,” the merchant’s daughter pointed out. “Our greeting might not be so gracious as in Toraja.”
Romus and several others nodded. Nevertheless, Uldyssian was steadfast in his decision. “We’re not the Triune nor the Cathedral. We show empty hands to Hashir…but fill them if need be.”
Uldyssian had the majority of his followers wait in the jungle just out of sight of the first settlements near the city. He chose a party of fifty to come with him, Serenthia and Tomo among them. Romus he left in charge, trusting most in the reformed villain.
As with each time that Uldyssian had shown such faith in him, Romus fell to both knees and took the other man’s hands. Touching his forehead to Uldyssian’s fingers, the Parthan tearfully said, “Master Uldyssian, I’ll not be letting you down. Not ever. By you, I’ve been saved from myself. That’s a greater gift than I’ve ever been given.”
“You’ve earned what you have.” Uldyssian bade the Parthan to rise. “If we’re not back by tomorrow morning, you know what must be done.”
Romus gritted his teeth and his hands formed fists. “But you’ll be coming back, Master Uldyssian! You’ll be coming back…”
Uldyssian wished that he felt so confident. The closer that they had gotten to Hashir, the more he had considered leaving Serenthia and everyone else in the jungle and merely walking into the city by himself. Then, if there was some plot afoot, at least none of the rest would be caught in it with him.
But Uldyssian knew that Serenthia would never have allowed him to make her stay behind. Nor, for that matter, would the rest of his edyrem have permitted him to go without someone to watch his back. They were as possessive about his safety as he was about theirs regardless of how much stronger Uldyssian was than the whole of them combined.
The whole of them save Serenthia, perhaps. By the time they had reached the vicinity of Hashir, she had become true second in command and her word was nearly as respected as his own. Her counsel had become invaluable to him…just as she herself had.
And that was why, the night before reaching Hashir, he had finally given in to his emotions and hers.
Even Achilios’s shade could no longer keep him from her. Their coupling had lasted long, the pentup fury as much for what had been lost as what was now found. There had been comfort, too, in the familiarity between them, the only familiarity that Uldyssian had left in his life.
She stood at his side as he led the smaller band toward the city gates. Uldyssian had purposely mixed his party half Torajian and half Parthan. The Hashiri, as Tomo said the locals were called, eyed the lighter-skinned members with something approaching awe, many possibly never having seen an “Ascenian” before.
Whether that was true of the guards at the arched gate was not evident, for they stood with wary faces and taut muscles even as the newcomers approached. Other traffic flowed in and out through the gates—wooden carts pulled by oxen, robed pilgrims on foot, and well-dressed merchants on horseback, just a few examples noted in passing by Uldyssian. All got short but studious glances by the sentries as they crossed the threshold. One, a plumed figure who had to be the officer in charge, eyed the foreigners but said nothing until they were next to step into Hashir.
“Do you carry goods for the market?” he asked, even though it should have been obvious that they did not. When Uldyssian answered for everyone with a shake of his head, the officer then peered at the various individuals. “Pilgrims, then. Where is your town, Ascenian?”
“I’m from the village of Seram. Others here are from the town of Partha and the city of Toraja.”
The man grunted. “Torajians I can recognize, Ascenian. Partha and Seram…these are places I do not know.” He finally shrugged. “Obey all laws and Hashir will always welcome you.”
“We thank and respect Hashir for its generosity,” Uldyssian returned, having learned the reply from Tomo. Lowlanders, as Uldyssian and the Parthans thought them, always expressed gratitude to a new city upon arrival in it.
His knowledge of the proper response took some of the stoniness out of the guards. The officer waved them past.
Hashir was similar in style to Toraja and from what Uldyssian had learned the former was actually the foundation of the larger city. At some point in the past, Hashir had sent out the explorers who had built Toraja, named after a hero in lowland epics. Uldyssian found it ironic that Toraja had outgrown its birthplace despite its seemingly remote location.
The tree-lined streets were there, but lacking the small creatures so venerated in Toraja. Instead, a variety of colorful birds appeared to have staked claim to the rich foliage, some of the avians exotic even to Tomo’s people.
“The Hashiri are said to bring back whatever beautiful birds they find on journeys, the better to color the skies of their home,” the Torajian explained wide-eyed. “I always thought that was bragging of theirs, for Hashir now lives in Toraja’s vast shadow…but such marvels! See that one?”
Uldyssian had to admit that the birds made for a wonderful, ever-shifting tapestry, but the noise their combined voices made—not to mention the tremendous amount of residue they left in their wake—did not overly enamor him of them. Instead, they made him yearn once more for the soft sounds of the more singular songbirds back home.