“Just as well for them. I’m in no mood for hostile bears.” Lisutaris examines the structure in front of us. “This gate will take us out of the magic space, close to the temple. The High Priestess will be waiting.”
“I hope your oracle is worth it.”
“It will be.” Lisutaris sounds confident. Her faith in this High Priestess appears to be unshakable. Foolish, in my opinion, but she’s the Commander. “I think someone might be following us,” says Makri.
“Following us?” I turn round. There’s no one in sight. Just a long stretch of vegetation, shrivelled from Lisutaris spell, but already growing back.
“I thought I saw some sort of shadow. I thought I saw it behind us on the mountain too.”
Lisutaris gazes into the distance. “I don’t think we could be followed through the magic space,” she says, eventually. “No one even knows we’re here.”
No one actually expresses the thought that there seem to be no limits on what Deeziz the Unseen can do, but we’re probably all thinking the same. Our Commander leads us through the gate, back into the real world. While our journey seemed both lengthy and hazardous, in reality we’ve only travelled about a mile from camp. We trudge through the darkness down a gentle slope towards a small copse of trees. I’m straining my eyes as we advance, wary of Orcish attack. Thanks to the inefficiency of Hanama’s intelligence unit, we have no idea where the Orcish army is. Current opinion among our generals is divided, some of them believing Prince Amrag and his troops have remained in Turai, waiting for us. Others believe they’ve probably advanced, and may even be close to the Simnian border. If Deeziz has really completed her grand hiding spell, they could be right next to us. I’m prepared for the worst.
I shiver. It’s a cold night and there’s moisture in the air. The thick clouds are low overhead, obscuring the moons and the stars. When we enter the trees at the foot of the hill we can hardly see a yard in front of our faces. Makri leads the way, her swords drawn. She halts, and points.
“We’re here.”
I’m struggling to make out anything in the gloom. Eventually I manage to distinguish a marble pillar. Somewhere behind it there’s a tiny flicker of flame. We advance. More pillars come into view. We’re in the middle of an old, ruined temple. The roof has collapsed, leaving only the ivy-covered pillars and an altar, on which burns a very small fire. At the altar stands the High Priestess. She looks exactly the same as the last time we saw her. Elderly, grey-haired, tall and dignified. A suspicious character in every way.
Lisutaris strides forward and bows. For a moment I’m worried she might start heaping more gold on the High Priestess, possibly feeling that the king’s ransom she handed over before might not have been enough. That doesn’t happen. They greet each other quietly. There are a few moments of silence. Then the High Priestess, perhaps feeling that her business would be best concluded swiftly, speaks softly to Lisutaris.
“Advance into the clouds.”
Lisutaris nods. “Thank you, High Priestess. I am greatly honoured that you travelled here to give me this oracle.”
The High Priestess turns to leave. Seeing this, I’m unable to fully contain myself. I try, but I can’t entirely suppress a grunt of frustration at the thought of the arduous journey we’ve endured for yet another worthless piece of advice. Advance into the clouds indeed.
Rather to my surprise, the High Priestess halts, turns round, and takes a step towards us. She’s a few inches taller than me and gazes down at me in a manner I don’t much like.
“You regard Lisutaris’s consulting me as a waste of time.”
“I do.”
“Please ignore him,” says Lisutaris.
The Priestess stares at me. “You didn’t like the oracle you received.”
“Of course I didn’t like it. The day will never come when I thrown down my shield and flee.”
The High Priestess smiles faintly. “We shall see.” Once more she turns to leave. “Why don’t you tell me something useful,” I call after her. “Like where Tirini’s shoes are.” I’m not certain why I ask that. I suppose Tirini’s shoes have been on my mind.
“Captain Thraxas, I order you to be quiet,” says Lisutaris. “I’m sorry, High Priestess, this man is - ”
The High Priestess turns her head. “New shoes can hide old shoes,” she says. And with that, she disappears into the darkness. Presumably she has some attendants, waiting to take her home. Or perhaps she has some sorcerous means of travel, I wouldn’t know. Either way, it’s the last we see of her.
“Captain Thraxas, I won’t stand for this insolence,” says Lisutaris, angrily. “When we get back - ”
“There’s something overhead,” says Makri, urgently.
“What?”
We scan the skies, but can see nothing in the dark clouds. I draw my sword. I have a very bad feeling about everything. Suddenly the air is split by a terrible screech. It’s a sound I know; the sound of a war dragon diving to attack. A dark shape emerges from the cloud and plunges towards us, its wings beating furiously. Lisutaris raises her hands, ready to strike it with a spell but before she can summon up her power the dragon vanishes behind the tops of the trees.
“Why didn’t it attack?”
“Maybe it was just offloading something,” I suggest. Suddenly the earth vibrates and there’s a noise that sounds like a tree crashing to the ground.
“Offloading something that can uproot trees.”
We make ready to fight.
Chapter Nineteen
We’re standing with our backs to the altar. In front of us are a few ancient pillars. There’s a short space between the pillars and the trees. Into this space stride six heavily-armed Orcs. Behind them comes the largest two-legged creature I’ve ever seen. Some sort of troll, perhaps, but much bigger. Three times the height of a man, at least. It has legs and arms like tree trunks, and it’s carrying a gigantic metal mace that looks like it could knock down a building. It flashes briefly through my mind that such a troll is impossible. No human-shaped creature can grow that big. Its muscles wouldn’t support it. It’s a very brief thought however, because this creature’s muscles seem to be supporting it just fine. It strides towards us, swinging its huge mace, following the Orcish warriors.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a purple light. Lisutaris hasn’t wasted any time summoning up a spell. Her eyes turn purple, sparks flicker around her hands and she sends a blast of visible energy towards the troll. The creature halts, snarls, shakes its head, then keeps on coming. Lisutaris has just struck it with the sort of sorcery she uses to bring down dragons, and it hasn’t stopped it.
“Hit it again!” I yell.
Lisutaris shakes her head. She used a lot of sorcery getting us through the magic space. I’m guessing she won’t be able to summon up another powerful spell like that for a while. By now the Orcs are upon us. Makri engages them. I shove Lisutaris back against the altar where we can protect her, and rush to Makri’s side.
“I knew that priestess would be the death of us. Damned oracles.”
Makri has already dispatched one of her opponents, killing an Orc with a deft thrust to the throat, delivered through a tiny gap in his armour, the sort of stroke that only she can make. I slip my small shield onto my left arm and do my best to ward off the opponent on my left while hewing at the one in front. I may not be as skilled as Makri but I have a lot of fighting experience. My blade hacks into his sword arm. As he lurches backwards I stab him again in his unprotected shin and he falls, not dead, but out of the fight, which is just as good. I use my shield to deflect a heavy blow from my left while Makri simultaneously parries one Orc’s sword and another’s spear. She darts forward to plant her black Orcish blade under the armpit of the Orc with the spear, sending it deep into his chest. He falls down dead. In the space of a few seconds we’ve killed or disabled three of our six adversaries. You might say we were doing well, were it not for the gigantic troll who now decides it’s time he joined the fight. He strides forward, pushed the three remaining Orcs roughly aside, and swings his mace at us in a great arc. It moves a lot faster than you might have expected, given his size. Makri and I throw ourselves backwards. The mace, a huge chunk of metal, crashes into one of the old marble pillars and it crumples under the impact. Shards of marble hit me in the face. Without pausing, the vast troll, clearly enhanced by some sort of dire sorcery, sweeps his mace back down in another arc. Makri and I are driven back, right up against the altar.