Priestess of the White

Then light finally flooded the forest. Adem found himself staring into the yellow eyes of the largest vorn he had ever seen. In the corner of his vision he could see white figures. Adem dared not take his eyes from those of the beast to look. The vorn whined as it got to its feet. Blood dripped from the matted hair of its belly. Adem weighed his chances. It was close, but in pain and perhaps weakened from blood loss. There was no use running away. Even wounded these creatures could outrun a man in ten strides. He groped for an arrow.

The vorn slunk toward him, pink tongue lolling from its mouth. A mouth large enough to encompass a man’s head, Adem couldn’t help thinking. He got the arrow nocked, aimed between the eyes of the beast and released.

The arrow bounced off the vorn’s skull.

Adem stared at it in disbelief. The animal had leapt backward in surprise.

“Where are you, sorcerer?” Hakan shouted. “Show yourself!”

Sorcerer? Adem thought. Magic? The vorns are protected with magic? That is not fair!

“You do not order me, priest,” a voice replied in a strange accent.

The vorn whined again and dropped to the ground, rolling onto its side. Adem could see his blade lodged in its belly. He decided he could risk looking away.

Priests, hunters and porters stood in a group under a hovering spark of light. Vorns ringed them all.

The elderly priest was crouching at the side of another. Hakan stood staring into the forest. As Adem watched a stranger stepped into the light. Foreign, Adem thought. No race I’ve ever seen. Long pale hair spilled over a black many-layered garment. On his chest lay a large silver pendant in the shape of a five-pointed star.

“You have killed innocent people, sorcerer,” Hakan accused. “Give yourself up and face the gods’ justice.”

The sorcerer laughed. “I don’t answer to your gods.”

“You will,” Hakan said. Sparks of light flashed from the priest toward the foreigner. Just before they reached their target they skittered aside and struck the trees, tearing bark from the trunks. Adem backed away. It was never wise to remain close to a magical battle. The injured vorn growled, reminding him that other vorns were about. He stopped, uncertain as to whether he should take his chances with a hunt of overgrown vorns or remain near the magical contest.

“Your magic is small, priest,” the foreigner said.

The air rippled and Hakan staggered backward and threw up his hands. Adem could see a faint shimmer in the air forming an arc that surrounded the priest and his men.

Hakan didn’t return the attack. It looked as if all his effort was going into protecting himself and the men around him.

One of the trackers standing behind the priests turned and bolted. He took only two steps before he screamed and fell to the ground. Adem stared in horror at the man’s legs. They were twisted in odd directions and blood was quickly soaking through his trousers.

Adem felt his mouth go dry. If this is what the sorcerer does to those outside the barrier, perhaps I had better stay still and hope he doesn’t notice me. He slowly crouched beside a bush, where he could still see the battle. The arc around the priests and hunters had spread to form a sphere encompassing all. The foreign sorcerer chuckled quietly to himself, a sound that sent a shiver down Adem’s spine.

“Surrender, priest. You will not win.” He extended a hand and curled his fingers as if clutching something before him.

“Never,” Hakan gasped.

The sorcerer shook his hand. Adem went cold as the sphere jerked about. The men within stumbled and fell to their knees. Hakan clutched his head and gave a wordless cry. The elderly priest jumped to his feet and grabbed Hakan’s shoulder. Adem saw Hakan’s face relax a little and heard the other priest gasp. At the same time the sphere flickered.

Hakan collapsed. Looking closely, Adem felt his heart freeze as he saw the elderly priest’s lips moving. He caught snatches of a prayer and felt the despair in the words.

The priest believed they were going to die.

I have to get out of here.

Rising, Adem took a few steps away from the battle.

“That is your choice,” the sorcerer said.

Adem glanced back in time to see the sorcerer’s extended hand flex then close into a fist. There was a cry from the elderly priest. A cry that was cut off. The light went out and a deathly silence followed.

Slowly Adem’s eyes adjusted to the faint glimmer of early dawn. He found himself staring at the silent place where priests and hunters had stood, and could not persuade his eyes to move away from the bloody mound of crushed limbs, weapons, packs and priests’ circs, not even as his stomach heaved its contents onto the ground.

There was an animal whine nearby. A voice spoke strange words in soothing tones. Adem watched as vorns gathered around the sorcerer to be petted. Then the injured vorn whined again and the sorcerer looked up, straight into Adem’s eyes.

Though he knew there was no hope, Adem ran.

As Auraya entered Juran’s room she met the eyes of each of the other White. Juran had woken her a short while before so that she could link with the priests fighting the sorcerer. She had sensed the minds of the other White, and felt their shock and dismay.

“I’m sorry, Auraya,” Juran said. “If I had known the confrontation was going to end so badly I would not have woken you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Juran. You could not have known how it would turn out, and it’s no revelation to me that terrible things happen in this world - though I do appreciate your concern.”

He ushered her to a chair. “Such a waste,” he murmured. He began to pace the room. “I should not have sent them. I should have investigated myself.”

“You could not have known this sorcerer was so powerful,” Dyara repeated. “Stop blaming yourself and sit down.”

Auraya glanced at Dyara, amused despite the seriousness of the moment to hear her take such a stern tone with Juran. The White leader did not appear to mind. He dropped into his chair and sighed heavily.

“Who is this sorcerer?” Rian asked.

“A Pentadrian,” Mairae replied. “There is a sketch of the star pendant in the report. They’re worn by Servants of the Gods.”

“A powerful sorcerer priest,” Dyara added.

Juran nodded slowly. “You’re right. So why is he here?”

“Not to propose trade or forge an alliance, it seems,” Mairae said.

“No,” Dyara agreed. “We have to consider whether he was sent here or is acting on his own. Either way, he must be dealt with, and we cannot risk sending a high priest or priestess to confront him.”

Rian nodded. “One of us must go.”

“Yes.” Juran glanced at each of the White in turn. “Whoever does will be absent some weeks. Auraya hasn’t completed her training yet. Mairae is occupied with the Somreyans. Dyara is training Auraya. I would go myself, but...” He turned to Rian. “You have not dealt with a sorcerer before. Do you have the time?”

Rian smiled grimly. “Of course not, but I will make time. The world needs to be rid of this Pentadrian and his vorns.”

Juran nodded. “Then take one of the Bearers and go.”

Rian straightened. A gleam had entered his gaze. As the young man rose and stalked from the room, Auraya felt a moment’s wry sympathy for the Pentadrian sorcerer. From what she had seen so far, all but the more severe rumors of Rian’s ruthless fanaticism were true.