Enshul stood trembling in her garden. She had retreated as soon as the king had alerted his master they were not alone. It had been enough time for her to escape the Old One’s reach, but not soon enough to avoid discovery.

  She listened as his presence found her observation point.

  “Ah, sweet Enshul,” he’d begun, and she’d listened with anger and horrified disbelief at his promises and threat.

  She was trembling with rage and outrage by the time he’d finished, and could not deny the fear that nibbled at her heart. He was not far from being able to carry out his promise, and while part of her doubted he had the power to do as he’d promised, another part of her did not.

  Steeling herself to take one last look at the king, she strode back to the tall, narrow plinth of nightstone that stood just beyond the border of night-petaled roses beyond which she’d retreated. She’d seen and heard all that had transpired in the king’s courtyard, and watched as the king turned from the now-empty pool and began issuing orders.

  “This cannot be,” she breathed, as he ordered Staravan’s temple sacked. “My father will hear of this!”

  “Your father will be most relieved to know that,” said a deep, wind-touched voice behind her.

  Enshul started, pivoting to see who dared disturb her. When she did, she froze.

  A Messenger?

  The creature looked back at her. Lion bodied with a face of mixed human and feline features, it eyed her with a golden gaze. Its huge paws were planted firmly in her realm, but she got a sense it was both standing before her, and standing somewhere else.

  “What brings you here?” she asked it, and it gave her a dropped-jawed smile.

  To Enshul, it looked more like the Messenger was bearing its fangs, and she caught herself wondering what she had done to displease it and what it would demand by way of apology.

  “The Pantheon’s Ruler wishes me to convey his displeasure at your absence from the Wildejun Meet. He also bids you come at once, rather than cause your priest any further suffering.”

  “My ex-priest,” Enshul snarled, “At my father’s request.”

  “The politics of young gods is not mine to comment on,” the Messenger replied, and Enshul drew a sharp breath.

  The Messengers were older than the gods, and the current pantheon’s deities suspected it was because they had served the ones who had preceded them—the gods of elements and principles, who’d been raised by their ancestors.

  And that makes them untouchable, she thought, for the Messengers had not chosen to rise and take their masters’ place, but to serve the newly raised gods who followed…or so the stories went.

  As such they were sacrosanct, even to the demons. If a Messenger was harmed, the gods and demons banded together to put certain steps into effect. The offender was stripped of their power, but allowed to survive—whether they wanted to, or not.

  “What message do you bring?” Enshul demanded.

  The Messenger cocked its head, and she swore it looked amused.

  “Your father, the Lord Staravan, sends his displeasure at your absence from the Wildejun Exchange. Your presence is required to release your priest into his keeping, and he bids you allow me to escort you to the gathering once this message is delivered.”

  “Raomar Filameth is no priest of mine,” Enshul snarled, “And my permission is already given. My presence is not required. My father can take him whenever he desires.”

  The Messenger flared its wings, before folding them once more along its spine.

  “Daughter of the gods, you know that is not how these things work,” it said firmly. “Your father requests you stand by your priest during his exchange, and instructs you to accompany me, now.”

  Judging by the wrinkle of its brow, the creature clearly worried about her anger, but it was just as clear that a fear of her temper would not keep him from his errand. Enshul studied his face, then gave an abrupt nod.

  Lifting her chin, she stepped toward him.

  “Let us go then,” she commanded. “We must not keep my father waiting.”

  That last was delivered with a hint of mischief, but the Messenger caught the faint ripple of unease beneath her words, as well as the faint scent of fear, or distress, as she approached. Without asking the cause of either, he led her from her garden to the edge of her realm, and there he bent his foreleg and stretched a wing so that she could mount.

  Enshul accepted the offered step, and slid carefully onto his back, settling just behind his shoulders. As soon as he was sure she was securely balanced, the Messenger launched himself into the darkness that separated her realm from the others.

  It was akin to flying through a sea of ice, and nebulous clouds drifted past in multi-colored puffs.

  Looking around, Enshul noted the scarlet glow of the lands to which the elemental gods of fire were said to have retired. A sapphire gleam drew her eyes to the realms of the elemental gods of water, and she wondered if she might one day dare explore them.

  As far as she knew those lands were empty, yet, tonight, they seemed to glow with renewed life…and looked like they were expanding. Unsure what that might mean, Enshul didn’t let it distract her from the news she carried, that a dark god was rising and represented a threat to them all.

  Unaware of her thoughts, the Messenger took her silence as a request for silence of his own, carrying her, unspeaking, to the mortal plane.

  As worrying as her thoughts were, Enshul monitored their progress, and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Just because the darkness provided a barrier between the Floating Realms, there was no reason to believe it was empty—or safe from threat.

  She kept that sense of watchfulness as the Messenger glided through the barrier to land within the Wildejun temple proper. His claws clicked on the temple’s stone floor, bringing him to a halt behind Enshul’s worried-looking priest.

  Seeing his fear that she would not come, and the way he held it at bay with a strong belief that she would not shame her order so, Enshul slid from the Messenger’s shoulders, and danced the few steps required to bring her to the man’s back.

  “Naravi,” she whispered slipping her hands over his shoulders. “Do not fear; I will not shame you.”

  It was a lie…or it had been, until she’d seen Naravi’s shaking faith, and the desperate way he clung to the belief that his goddess would honor a priest who’d served her faithfully and not force him into the service of another without a proper farewell, that she would not abandon him.

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  Stepping around him, she felt the weight of her father’s stare and glanced up to catch his eyes.

  He greeted that gesture with a stern stare, his lips compressed in a thin line of disapproval.

  She flicked her gaze to the gathered priests in a reminder they were not alone.

  It was a warning he heeded, if his almost imperceptible nod was anything to go by.

  The Messenger moved around her, making a brief bow before Staravan.

  “You message was delivered and she has come,” he informed the lord of gods, pausing before adding, “And she brings important news.”

  Staravan inclined his head in acknowledgement.

  “Thank you for your service,” he told it. “We are honored by your gift of time.”

  The Messenger bowed again, more deeply this time, and then it faded from view, phasing out of the mortal reality to the realm of the gods.

  “My Lord.”

  * * *

  From her hiding place beneath the brazier, Brianda studied the tall goddess who’d come to stand behind Enshul’s priest. She saw the deity dance forward and whisper something in the priest’s ear.

  She also saw the slight shiver that ran through the man’s form, as the goddess finished speaking, and stepped past to confront her father. The look that passed between them spoke louder than the creature announcing her arrival.

  As it bowed and vanished, Enshul stepped forward.

  “Father.”

  “Enshul, my daughter.”

  “I have news of the king.”

  The goddess’s words rippled through the room and the priests stilled.

  “Tell on,” Staravan instructed.

  The goddess bowed her head, and her reply was silent, but Brianda swore she ‘felt’ the goddess speaking. It was the faintest sensation of noise within her head, with no discernible words or meaning, but she was sure it was Enshul relaying something of great import to her father.

  It was…unpleasant, scraping through her ears and setting her teeth on edge.

  She cowered back in her niche, covering her ears with her hands in an attempt to block the noise, but keeping her eyes on where the two deities faced each other.

  The unpleasant sensation continued, but still nothing of the goddess’s news reached her.

  * * *

  “The king has sent troops to sack this temple,” Enshul stated, aware of the rogue’s curious gaze.

  Staravan showed no sign he’d noticed Brianda’s attention when he replied, “Are you sure?”

  Enshul dipped her chin. “I am sure. He is an ancient power, as we know, and he ordered the king to sack the temple and bring all within it to his temple for sacrifice.”

  She paused as Staravan’s fists curled.

  “He particularly desires the wizardess and her apprentices, but I could not divine why,” she continued. “He ordered they take all within the temple walls, and any who came to the temple’s defense."

  “But, if the king is in Toramar, how did he speak with soldiers near enough to attack, tonight?” Staravan asked.

  “His deity gave him the ability to far speak to the captain leading his forces. They will be here by nightfall,” Enshul told him.

  “For true?” Staravan asked, not really requiring a reply.

  Enshul responded, anyway.

  “Father, he has ordered your temples in Toramar sacked. Your priests…”

  “Will walk with me once their ordeal is over,” Staravan answered firmly, although pain flitted briefly across his face. He took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his shoulders obvious to those gathered in the temple proper. “We must complete this exchange quickly, then. The balance must be maintained.”

  “And the others agree?” Enshul demanded. “I must give him up?”

  A quiver of disappointment ran through her tones, but the sharp nods from the other deities was a unanimous agreement she could not deny, and she momentarily sagged. “Very well.”

  “Was there any other news?” Staravan asked, his eyes saying he’d registered her loss, but could do nothing to ease it.

  “Yes.” Enshul’s face hardened with anger, as she remembered the Old One’s final orders to the king, and she tried to stop the memory before it reached the point where he’d addressed her directly.

  Raising her eyes to meet her father’s gaze, she said, “He ordered the wizardess’s remaining apprentice brought to the temple for sacrifice.”

  Her voice faltered, but Staravan reached out and lightly laid his palm against her cheek. It was a fleeting gesture but it was enough to enable her to continue.

  “He ordered the sacrifice of all the priests from Toramar’s temples…tonight. He ordered the temples be razed and sacked.” She stopped, interrupted by the memory of what came after, when the ancient deity had noticed her. Swallowing hard, she continued, “He… He threatened me, father.”

  Stepping away from him she met his eyes with a fierce gaze.

  “I will destroy him for that.”

  “And I will help you,” Staravan promised, “But first…”

  He indicated the waiting priests.

  * * *

  From her hiding place, Brianda watched the priests as they watched the goddess and her father. Whatever they discussed it infuriated and grieved them by turn, but when Staravan gestured toward her master, Enshul’s voice rang clearly throughout the hall.

  “I await the ceremony’s start, my Lord.”

  Raomar remained on his knees, his head bowed, but his body tense. If he feared what was about to happen, he didn’t show it.

  At Enshul’s words, Staravan inclined his head and stepped forward. As he moved, Enshul retreated to stand behind her priest, and the king of gods beckoned for his own priest to step forward.

  Raomar didn’t move, but Brianda thought she saw him flinch, as the goddess passed.

  Staravan came to a halt before him, extending a hand in a silent offer of help.

  “Rise, Raomar Filameth,” he instructed. “Stand before the gods who demanded your presence, and your removal from the service of the one you have ever-faithfully served”.

  Raomar rose, trembling, his hood slipping from his head, revealing his beast elf features and blue-stained hair.

  A gasp rose from the priests nearest as they realized what he was, and several hands were raised to cast defensive spells. Steel rasped from one side of the hall,

  “Kevarag!” It was more a curse than a warning, and that combined with the sound of a blade being drawn had her uncurling, ready to leap to his defense.

  “Enough!” Staravan’s voice rolled through them like thunder laced with lightning, and the priests stilled, allowing the deity to fix the man who’d drawn his sword with a commanding gaze.

  Brianda sank back on her heels, watching as the girl who’d been transferred from Lurani to Skarsht, moved to block her companion and his blade.

  “Be still,” Skarsht ordered, and she froze, still facing her escort.

  The priests turned to watch them, as the gods spoke.

  “Enough,” Staravan repeated, his voice edged with fatigue. “We have one handover more to complete, and then we must leave this place.”

  That’s got their attention, Brianda thought, running her gaze over the crowd in an attempt to identify any threats to her master.

  She watched as the priests shifted their attention, moving uncertainly in their places. High Priest Ardor’s upraised hand stilled them.

  “Hear the words of Staravan,” he commanded.

  With a wry twist of his lips, the escort slammed his blade back into its sheath and stepped back, leaving his charge to observe from beside Skarsht and Lurani. The trio studied the kevarag priest and the god who stood before him.

  When Skarsht and Lurani moved to join the lord of gods and his daughter, the priestess followed, causing Enshul’s brow to crease with puzzlement. The creases deepened as more deities clustered around them, Toronar, lord of discovery, and Adriel, the problem solver.

  What business do they have with my master, Brianda wondered, her eyes widening when another deity joined the cluster. What interest could the goddess of magic have with my master?

  If the king of gods wondered the same, he did not say, merely tilted his chin in greeting, and addressed the gathering.

  “Before we begin,” he stated, his voice ringing clear across the hall and waking the resting earth weird in the portico, “I must warn you we have been betrayed. The king has told his soldiers this temple harbors rebels and traitors and sent them to take all in this temple and all who come to their aid…and he has commanded the temple be razed to the ground.”

  Gasps greeted this announcement, and Brianda took a long breath to keep the panic at bay and resist the urge to run. Instead, she looked to her master, not surprised to see Raomar still on his knees, and still waiting for his exchange.

  Staravan waited until the sounds of shock had died, before continuing, “As soon as this exchange has taken place, I command you to flee. You are not to allow the townsfolk to aid you, for their lives are forfeit if they do.”

  He looked around the gathering, meeting as many eyes as he could as though trying to impress their owners with the gravity of their situation.

  “Obey me,” he ordered. “We will defend your escape, but you must leave. Already my servants in Toramar feel the wrath of the king’s words. Already they defend themselves against the foe Raomar Filameth and his companions must defeat.”

  He turned to his high priest.

  “Begin the handover,” he commanded, “And do not tarry.”