Page 19 of Ensii
Ashek spotted it before anyone else. “What is this?” The Dunedrifter drew his sword, stepping partly in front of Talitha within the ranks.
“A crowd approaches!” Breida and her scouts cried moments later. “Bearing torches.”
Within moments, Talitha noted the orange glow up ahead. “What is this?”
“More soldiers!” Kurzik said.
“No.” Talitha shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t—”
“Not soldiers,” one of the northerners called down, words thick with his accent. “No armor.”
“What is this, then?” one of the Dunedrifters asked from Talitha’s back.
“Have they turned the people against us, too?” Gilsazi muttered, almost a curse.
The ensaak straightened, one hand on her sword. “I think it’s Saorin.”
A cluster of long robed figures bearing torches rounded the corner, hesitating at the sight of the armed warriors. Both sides surveyed one another warily, but sure enough, a familiar lanky figure emerged in the lead. He ran, panting and flushed, stopping halfway to the middle of the square before doubling over. “My ensaak! Ensaak Talitha!”
Talitha squared her shoulders and stepped out between the shield bearers, her own shield slung across her back. Ashek hovered close by, two steps behind, but close enough to act if it was a trap. Talitha didn’t know if she was comforted or annoyed by his protectiveness.
“Saorin? Who are these people?”
The boy looked over his shoulder, still breathless. He waved forward a man in long robes that nearly touched the ground. “This is Shem,” he said. “I told him you had come with the survivors of Hudspeth and he wanted to see for himself.”
Talitha heard Ashek shift at her side. “And what is it you wanted to see, Master Shem?”
The stranger was bald, but a wiry beard fell halfway down his chest. He was tanned and darkened with age, not unlike her grandfather had been. His long robes fell heavy to his ankles, concealing most of him, but he gripped a staff as knobbed and worn as his knuckles.
“I came to see the priest of Hudspeth.” The old man looked to Talitha’s right, where Ashek stood guard over her. “It is true. He lives.”
Ashek shifted his weight again, slight enough that Talitha doubted they could see it across the square. “Do I know you?” Ashek was uncomfortable. He was not uncomfortable often.
“No,” the old man replied. “My daughter married an Ilian decades ago. I came here after my wife died, before the slaughter at Hudspeth.”
Talitha wasn’t sure what to make of this and it seemed no one else did, either.
“I didn’t dare hope any of you had survived, but He told me you had.”
Talitha looked to Ashek sideways, not taking her attention off the strange man or his collection of friends. “Ashek? What is he talking about?”
Ashek cleared his throat.
“He is the son of Joshek, the last priest of Hudspeth.”
Talitha blinked at her husband. Apparently, that held more significance than she realized.
Ashek nodded, stepping forward. “Are you with us, old man? Or against us?”
That seemed a redundant question, but the old man stooped at the waist in response. “We are yours to command, my lord.”
“Who are these people you have brought with you?”
“My grandsons, sons in law, and servants with several of my neighbors and theirs, my lord.”
Talitha’s brows rose. This man must be a wealthy merchant if he had so many people under his order.
“I was told you would come to throw down the war goddess and instate the Lonely God. We have come in hopes that is true.”
