Page 116 of The Cruel Dawn
Tatanye Lote whispers, “The Sanctum is…shifting. Something’s happening here, something I can’t explain. It seems as though I’m imagining it, that I’m the only one here that…that…”
I glance at Elyn—that unease I’ve felt has now been confirmed by this stranger. “What do you mean byshifting?” I ask.
The Eserime’s lips twitch, and a faint frown tugs at the corner of her mouth. “There’s somethingwrongwith the power here. It’s unstable. The threads that bind this place together are fraying.” She looks directly at Elyn now, her gaze intense. “The other Eserime and I… We shouldn’t be here.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” says Elyn.
“Have you shared your concerns with Zephar?” I ask Tatanye Lote.
She slowly shakes her head. “The Eserime are here—or so we’ve been told—to heal the Gasho and other mortals that need our hands. But I believe we’re here for more than that. That purpose hasn’t been introduced to us yet, but my body can’t rest with this mysterious threat on the horizon.”
Tatanye Lote steps closer to us. “Remain watchful is all I ask.”
Elyn studies the Eserime. “Why do you remain here if you sense this danger? And why did you come? I’ve not sentenced any Eserime to Gasho or Vallendor.”
A faint smile dances across Tatanye Lote’s lips, and her eyes glow with hope. “I’m honored to aid the Lady of the Verdant Realm in restoring Vallendor to its true purpose. That’s why I came. That’s why I’ve remained.” She bows her head to me, but the excitement of her purpose dims and her bright gray eyes darken. “I must go before I’m missed.”
We turn to watch the woman hurry back in the direction we came. Once Elyn and I are alone again, Elyn says, “I felt that strangeness, too.”
“What did you notice?” I ask.
“The man you don’t know,” she says. “In addition to his ridiculous disrespect, I also noticed the symbol on his breastplate.”
“The fiery ‘X’,” I say. “What is that?”
“There’s not much literature yet, but that’s the sign of the Crusaders.”
“The faction within the Mera,” I say, nodding. “But what are they ‘crusading’ against now?”
Elyn shrugs. “I have no idea, but are crusades ever good? Are crusades ever harmless?”
The Crusade of Broken Blades: to stop the expansion of Dindt explorers on the realm Taiko by the Dindt suborder of Honem. Twelve thousand killed.
The Crusade of Black Crowns: the Dashmala appealed to the Mera to come to Vallendor and kill the Gorga—which then brought the Yeaden to defend the Gorga. Six thousand killed.
The Crusades of Wrexen Cadine: Wrexen Cadine, an Adjudicator, led rogue Onama to capture the reliquaries on Linione. He failed. Seventy thousand were killed in that brutal massacre.
People always die on the other side of a crusade.
Yes, something is out of tune here.
29
Elyn and I finally reach the part of the mountain where Malik Sindire’s glass- and white-stone-walled temple sits. The daystar is high in the sky, half-hidden behind clouds. He still casts hard light over the landscape—powerful even when he’s concealed.
“Thisis a temple?” Elyn asks, shocked by the structure’s simple lines, walnut doors, and the pools of still, clear water. “Looks more like the mountain retreat for Council meetings.”
I take a deep breath; the air smells of pine and damp earth. “I noticed that it looks similar to the dwelling on Linione.”
There’s a restlessness in Malik Sindire’s estate-temple today. As we approach, I hear the low hum of distant voices. I don’t sense, though, the out-of-tune strangeness I felt at my own Sanctum down the mountain.
More people are milling around than during my first visit; some move between the shadows, a few sit beneath the trees. I don’t recognize the people standing near the gates, lounging on the wide veranda, or draped lazily across the stone steps. They’re all strangers, but they don’t see Elyn or me as a threat.
When I catch their gazes, they simply nod and return to staring out at the trees or up to the cloudy sky. Blank-faced, they look lost in a trance, their thoughts floating beyond this realm. They all wear simple white robes adorned with symbols and tangled, shimmering patterns. They remind me of the gown that Nimith wore up at the abbey.
Elyn and I pass them without speaking. Malik Sindire waits for us on the veranda.
“Dyotila and Avish,” I say. “Where are they today?”
