Judge (24 page)

Kien eyed the hair curling from the man’s ear canals. And his distorted, oft-broken nose and battle-ravaged skin. Understandable that Lorteus needed some reason to boast.

The man shifted his weapon into a plowman’s waist-level stance. “Strike when ready.”

Kien lunged, cutting his waster toward Lorteus with all his might.

The fightmaster received the strike flat on the lower portion of his blade and deflected Kien’s weapon, hammering it upward with his sword’s crossguard. Just before he sliced down to Kien’s shoulder. “You’ve lost your arm,” he taunted Kien. “Yet, even now, mortally wounded, you can kill!”

The words became a cadence, drilled into Kien’s thoughts with each defeat.

Even now. Mortally wounded. You can kill!

Sweat stinging his skin and eyes, Kien fought. For Ela. At last, he forced the fightmaster to a pause, their swords crossed at throat level.

Lorteus snarled, “Your grip is weak, girl.”

Silence, Kien warned himself. Feeble taunts don’t merit response. He glared into the fightmaster’s beast-grim eyes. When the man shoved him, Kien locked his foot behind Lorteus’s and threw him to the pavings amid the clatter of wooden blades. Instantly, as Kien aimed for the kill, Lorteus swung out a leg and toppled Kien. His blade touched Kien’s throat within a blink.

Amazing. Must be the man’s ear hair. Kien affected a threatening glare. “Again.”

Lorteus growled and stood. “Why? You won’t learn. I’d be wasting my time just teaching a Tracelander to spit properly.”

“Are you saying I ought to spit like you—with every word I speak?”

Kien rolled aside to avoid Lorteus’ retaliatory strike, then leaped to his feet.

Before Kien raised his own waster, Lorteus pressed the tip of his weapon against Kien’s heart. “Tracelander, I don’t care if you are king, ambassador, or envoy. I will make every step of your journey to Parne a living torment! Beginning at dawn, you will eat what I feed you, drink what I give you, and sleep when I allow you ten breaths to do so!” His eyes fixed on Kien, seeming
wholly malignant. “You will learn. Otherwise, when Belaal kills you in battle, you will be grateful!”

This animal would control his meals? Kien regretted mentioning the spit.

Amid the evening meal, shared with her family and friends in the cavern, images called to Ela. Faces, some familiar, some new, sought her in the city above. And words, Sacred Words, beckoned her from their neglected shelter in a now-dead house. Ela hastily set down her food as emotions slid into her thoughts. Spinning . . .

Trying to contain the vision’s momentum, she rocked forward on her knees and gripped her head. Amid the escalating tempest of words, fear, and pleading faces, Ela felt Kalme’s arms encircle her. Mother’s embrace stilled her. A sanctuary.

Released from the vision, Ela straightened and pulled in a breath. Infinite . . . truly?

Yes.

Seated beside Ela, Prill asked, “What are you seeing?”

“The Infinite’s faithful ones.”

Nesac approached, his thin face furrowed in concern. Dan crouched beside Ela. “Tell us.”

Ela motioned toward Nesac. “He must return to the temple for the Books of the Infinite—they cannot be taken as spoils of war by any king. And I’m sent to find others for the Infinite.”

“Others?” Kalme’s lovely eyebrows lifted. “Who?”

“The faithful ones who must join us to survive.”

Dan grunted. “It seems the Infinite will feed them.” He looked up at the tree. After a reluctant pause, he said, “You’ll need to take the branch.”

“The branch stays here. I’ve faced danger without it before, Father. Don’t worry. The Infinite is my Protector.” Though she would be seen as vulnerable when she entered Parne without her insignia. The branch was the symbol of Parne’s prophet and her
Creator’s care. Ela’s enemies,
His
enemies, would believe they could more easily capture her. And soon a particular enemy would succeed, Ela knew. Where, when, she couldn’t tell. But this cavern obviously wasn’t the place of darkness she’d experienced in her vision. There was no fear in this underground sanctuary. No pain. No stench of death. Unlike the place she’d envisioned.

Ela rested a hand on Prill’s arm. “I’m sorry, but you must accompany me, with Nesac.”

The matron blanched.

 25 

S
tars flecked the purpled predawn sky above Parne. Beautiful and peaceful. A serene contrast to the city below. Ela, followed by Prill and Ishvah Nesac, hurried over the rooftop paths, praying and listening to varied cries of distress and broken weeping from the homes beneath their feet.

Had most of Parne consumed its supplies?

Behind Ela, Prill breathed, “I feel guilty, being well fed.”

“All were warned,” Ela reminded her. “This disaster could have been avoided.”

Nesac drew nearer, obviously sickened, and worried. “The temple’s doors are sure to be locked! How can I get inside?”

Ela almost smiled. “Whose house are we discussing? You’ll find He’s opened the door for you.”

The chief priest grinned in the first light. “Of course!” But just as quickly, a frown returned, casting shadows across his lean features while he turned, evidently distracted by a piercing wail from the city below.

Prill tucked her hand into the crook of Ela’s arm. “What will we be doing while he’s in the temple?”

“Causing commotion.” Which would be fun if matters weren’t so deathly serious. She longed for Kien to walk this path with her. Here. Now. Thoughts of Kien weakened Ela, slowing her pace. He’d accompanied Ela on some of her first forays as a prophet.
It only seemed right that he should be here. Surely he was on his way to Parne. She’d see him before her entombment, wouldn’t she? Was it right for a prophet to long for another mortal so much? She prayed . . . not only to see Kien one last time, but to protect the Infinite’s faithful remnant in Parne. As well as her parents. Prill. And Deuel and the Nesacs.

Ishvah Nesac’s voice murmured again, “I know this is all His will, but I wish the siege long gone. With all of us looking back upon this from a distance in time.”

“Because you fear what you don’t know,” Ela said. His fears touched her prayers. Infinite, how could this young chief priest be reassured?

A sensation poured over her, and a rush of light built around them all like a clear golden wall. Ela looked over her shoulder and trembled. Three silent warriors were walking with them, calm, watchful. And so filled with the Infinite’s radiance and power that she almost wept with gratitude. Thank You!

Prill grasped Ela’s arm, staring at her oddly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Ela gathered her senses. She’d stopped walking. And her friends were watching her as if she’d lost her mind. All right. Aloud, she prayed, “Infinite, who is like You? Please, allow Nesac and Prill to see the watch-care You’ve set over them.”

Beside her, the matron gasped and flung her arms around Ela. Nesac missed a step and fell against a wall, clearly too shocked to make a sound. No doubt they saw the Infinite’s warriors.

One of the Infinite’s servants slid a powerful glowing hand through the air, as if closing a curtain around himself and his two comrades. Shielding mortals from their fear-inducing presence.

Prill squeaked into Ela’s ear, “Are they still there? Were they sent by the Infinite?”

“Yes, yes. And we must hurry. Nesac, when you’ve retrieved the Sacred Words, return to the hidden courtyard. We’ll meet you there. Nesac?”

Mute, the chief priest nodded. He shoved himself away from the wall and then ran ahead as if being chased to Parne’s temple.

Ela shook the matron. “The others are approaching the temple to pray.”

Like Nesac, Prill nodded. Unlike Nesac, she managed to speak. “If-if
they
are here, why would you need the branch for protection?”

Infinite? Ela resumed walking, tugging Prill alongside her as she listened to His answer. When they reached a high and level rooftop path, which seemed only an arm’s length from the fading stars, Ela said, “The branch is more than mere protection. It serves the Infinite, and is a symbol of His pledge to us.” She shook her head. How could she express what she didn’t understand? “One day the Infinite will send a truly righteous priest to rule us and to intercede for our mortal wrongdoings. Everyone who accepts Him will be spiritually cleansed.”

Nudging the matron along the steps toward the temple, Ela added, “Our Creator will walk among us, and we won’t need to be shielded from His holy presence.”

Prill shook her head. “I thought I would die at the sight of those . . . those guards! It would kill me to see the Infinite Himself.”

“All you need to do, Prill, is accept Him, and obey Him as your Sovereign.” She quickened their pace, reaching the temple’s gate just as the first true rays of dawnlight pierced the horizon.

Her heart aching, Ela watched a straggling flock of Parnians and several priests approach the temple. All these faithful ones looked so broken, despairing beneath their separate burdens of hunger and fear. An icy hand clutched Ela’s wrist. Prill.

Her expression squeamish, the matron pleaded, “Promise me there’ll be no screaming heaps of ashes today.”

“No screaming heaps of ashes today,” Ela agreed beneath her breath.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“You’re going on a little errand, but don’t worry. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“You’d best be right. But what about you?”

As Ela tried to collect words to describe what was about to happen, Prill said, “Ela Roeh, if you die and I’m forced to tell your parents, I . . . I’m sure I’ll never forgive you!”

“Yes, you will. And you might even miss me.” She pried her chaperone’s cold fingers from her wrist. “Now. I was serious about the errand. These people are about to speak to me. You’re going to lead them to the hidden courtyard and wait quietly. Nesac will arrive soon after. Then I’ll follow.” In one piece, she hoped.

The first of Parne’s faithful reached the gate. An older man and his wife. He recognized Ela and gasped aloud. “Prophet! We’d heard you were dead!”

Hmm. She could imagine who’d spread that little rumor. The others, perhaps eighty Parnian men, women, and children, gathered around her, eyes huge, as if seeing an apparition.

Evidently perceiving that she was safe and well, they nudged each other, whispering. “She’s alive! Chacen was wrong!”

Before they created an uproar, Ela lifted her hands. “Listen. This is important. My chaperone, Matron Prill, will lead you to a safe place. Don’t stop for anything and don’t talk to anyone. Just go with her. Be quiet, and trust the Infinite. Hurry!”

She weakened a bit, watching them rush after Prill. If only she could go with them. But she had to be sure Ishvah Nesac wouldn’t be trapped while rescuing Parne’s Sacred Books.

Closing her eyes, she breathed a prayer. Calm. This wouldn’t be too sickening, would it? Infinite?

Look.

Ela opened her eyes. A man descended from a nearby stairway, his pace slow as if pained, his shoulders stooped beneath the weight of his cloak. He started through the temple’s gate, glanced at her, then halted.

Swallowing her nervousness, trying not to consider her death, Ela said, “Chacen.”

Zade Chacen choked as if the air in his throat had become a solid lump. But even as he fought for breath, he clawed toward her, his expression murderous.

Alert for any signs of daggers in her foe’s hands, Ela darted away. To the wall.

Chacen followed.

Catching her breath, Ela stared down at the fields beyond the wall. Belaal’s army spread before her in the dawnlight like an uneasy sea of dark tents and rippling sapphire and gold banners. Here was her vision brought to life. The seething cauldron poured out against Parne. Yet it was only the first wave. She glanced up at the sky. Almost time.

A warning, like a tap on the shoulder, alerted her to Chacen’s approach. She turned and saw him ascend to the wall walk, one hand clasping the right side of his chest as if warring with hurts from his wounds.

The former chief priest lumbered toward her, his dark eyes wild with hatred. His body might be weakened, but his voice, now recovered from the shock of seeing her, was sonorous as ever. Surely everyone in Parne and in the army below could hear him raving. “Traitor! My sons died! They had wives and children, yet you showed no pity!”

Before the first pang of remorse could slash Ela with guilt, the Infinite sent her threads of emotion from the Chacens’ entire Atea-worshiping clan. All raged against her. And against the Infinite, because she’d obeyed and spoken the truth. Ela suppressed a shiver, focusing instead upon the Chacen patriarch.

Why bother to hide her frustration with this grasping, rebellious, destructive man? He was the physical representation of Parne gone astray! Ela squared her shoulders. “I warned you and your sons! Remember what I said!” Deliberately, Ela rephrased her younger self—the scared girl-prophet voicing her very first prediction from the Infinite.

“Your sons refused to even acknowledge the Infinite, yet you favored them over Him! Therefore, you were removed from your place of power. As a sign to you, your sons died on the same day
during that terrible calamity. Your descendants will never be priests again, though they will beg for the lowest priestly office, asking for nothing but bread to eat!”

He remembered. Hatred of the truth burned heat into his face, fire into his eyes. “How easily you curse us! You are not fit to—”

“Easily?” How could he be so deluded? Ela cried, “Do you believe I delight in your agony and your eternal destruction? No!” Shards of pain sliced through her like fragments of the Infinite’s own broken heart. “Your Creator bleeds for
you
, Chacen! He weeps for you, and you reject Him! If you could comprehend an instant of His sorrow for you and your family, you’d never think those words! ‘Easily’—how dare you!”

Rage shook her. “I’m leaving before I truly curse you now! Do you wish to test the Infinite’s prophet in wrath?” Ela hoped not. She didn’t want to learn what could happen.

Leaving the silenced, still-furious Chacen, Ela stormed along the wall walk. She needed to calm herself. She looked again at the army below. Not that there was anything calming there. But Belaal was her second reason for visiting the wall.

Praying the Infinite’s Spirit would strengthen her words, Ela lifted her voice once more. “Belaal! I am Ela Roeh, prophet of Parne! Our Creator, the Infinite, has allowed you to lay siege to His people as punishment for their rebellion! But unless you offer Him the honor He is due, this victory will be given to another king!”

Ela paused, allowing her words to sink in to the army below. Men were hurrying from their tents, weapons readied. Raising her voice again, she cried to Belaal’s king, “Bel-Tygeon!” She watched him emerge from his blue royal pavilion, golden-robed, elegant and impressive, a hand on his sword, a scowl on his handsome face. Ela exhaled a prayer, willing Bel-Tygeon to take her seriously. “Listen to your Creator. You are not a god! Bow or He will bring you down! This is your first warning! If you fail to heed Him, the Infinite will punish you for your arrogance!”

As Ela spoke, Zade Chacen crept toward her from the right.
To shove her from the wall, she knew. He’d learned nothing. Despair weighing her very soul, she turned. “Chacen, do you think the Infinite hasn’t seen you?”

Before Chacen was within arm’s reach, air blasted between them, throwing him back. The invisible current circled Ela, becoming a whirlwind, whipping her robes and mantle tight around her body. Remembering her vision, she stood still, begging in silence for composure.