meditations and cleared her mind. She chanted and peered into the smoke again. This time, she directed the magic with more care, concentrating on her spirit-link to the White Tigress, who was imprisoned by Salahn inside a remote pocket of the Shadowland. The bond that would normally be hers by right as a high priestess had only formed recently, despite the magical barriers set by Salahn, during the prophetic dream that had led Zyrella here, through parched scrublands, to desolate Mount Barqeshal.
This time Jaska Bavadi didn't appear.
Zyrella fell into a deep trance, learning every nuance of the complex ritual she needed. When she finished, she cleansed her hands with holy water and doused the smoldering leaves. She drank one swallow and splashed the remainder into her dry, stinging eyes. Then she walked outside and joined her templar captain and faithful companion of twenty years.
~~~
Dressed in a chainmail hauberk overlaid by a travel-stained, white burnoose, Ohzikar Sanwared stood guard between a pair of cracked columns that supported the decaying roof of the shrine's entrance. In his memory the place had shone with purity. Now returning two decades later, he found it just a ruin.
For the last two hours, Ohzikar had looked out across the wide vista of jagged hills and scrub plains, worrying about the storm clouds gathering along the horizon. Except during spring, rain rarely fell in Hareez. However, occasional storms plagued hot summer days like this. Such a storm could be torrential, and it could cover the approach of assassins.
Zyrella took his arm, and they walked through the remainder of the shrine's courtyard. Over the centuries, most of it had crumbled into the river canyon below. In the space that yet remained grew a dozen lethargic shrubs, two stunted trees, and several trails of limp vines. It was no longer the lush garden in which they had played together as children.
The deep lines of Ohzikar's contemplative face eased into a strained smile. “Well, how did it go? Can you free her?”
"I saw what I must do. The goddess has conserved all her energy, waiting for this moment when Salahn is most vulnerable, but I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to help her."
Frowning, he brushed bits of ash from the limp strands of her ebony hair. Worry and fatigue, even an aura of hopelessness, weighted her features. He'd never seen her like this before.
"There’s something more that’s bothering you. Tell me."
"The Slayer is coming for us. I caught him spying on me from the Shadowland, so he can’t be far away."
Ohzikar blanched and his jaws quivered, but then he stood erect and clenched his teeth. "Bavadi is only one man. We can stop him. At the least, I will delay him long enough."
"There may be others with him, Ohzi. I don't want to lose you."
Ohzikar took her into his arms. "Do not fear. Trust in my strength." He stroked the back of her neck. "Ever since we were children, we knew this day must come. We have trained and endured many hardships. We are ready. This is our destiny, and our goddess needs us."
Zyrella brightened, if only a little. "I would be lost without you, Ohzi." She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I must prepare now."
Ohzikar escorted Zyrella to the shrine entrance. Halfway to the altar, she let slip her robe. The silk slid from her smoothly muscled, olive skin like a cloud through thin mountain air. For some moments, Ohzikar admired her. Then he sighed and marched off to prepare his templars for Jaska's arrival.
~~~
Four palymfar advanced along a rugged trail that twisted up Mount Barqeshal. The warrior-assassins wore their traditional rust-colored burnooses with deep hoods and saffron veils over an umber bodysuit reinforced with studded leather and padded cotton. The colors allowed them to blend with the deserts and mountains of Hareez. Each man also wore around his neck the signature palymfar device: a leather choker bearing in the center a jet qavra