Captain Reuven Suran directed his troops through Wildejun’s main gate. A few words and a single glance at his uniform had been all it had taken to convince the man to have the gates opened to let them pass.

  Fool, he thought. No thought for identification. No thought to look beyond the uniforms. No request for our orders… He allowed the thought to trail off, realizing he was muttering to himself.

  His lieutenant looked at him strangely.

  “The temple is this way, sir,” the man said. “Their captain has sent a man to guide us.

  He was referring to the town’s captain, and Reuven silently cursed the man’s trusting nature.

  How did he make it this far? he wondered, since a fool was often short-lived in a frontier town. Maybe he hasn’t been here that long.

  Still, that trust worked to their advantage.

  “Tell him we need to converge on the temple from multiple directions,” he snapped. “We need more than one guide.”

  His lieutenant nodded, turning back to the guardhouse.

  Reuven waited, surveying the darkening streets and the fishing boats returning to the river’s mouth on the evening tide. He hoped their catch had been a good one. That way they’d be too busy to interfere with what he was about to do.

  Another boat drew his gaze to the river’s mouth. It stood off from the fishing boats. Reuven squinted against the darkness in an attempt to get a better look at it. It was more than just a boat, being bigger than the fishing boats, but the wrong configuration for one of the river passenger ships. It was too small to be an ocean-going merchantman…and its lines were too sleek.

  He wrinkled his nose against the scent of mud and silt as the water boiled and mingled where the Wildejun River poured into the Tonaril, a larger body of water that flowed into the sea.

  If not a passenger vessel or a sea-going merchantman, was it a pleasure boat? Some nobleman’s private transport—and whose? Or maybe it was a smuggler?

  Studying it a moment longer, Reuven noted it was of medium size, black-hulled and built for speed. Sails reflected the dying sun in muted colors on its masts, and he wondered if there was a name painted on its hull.

  It’s too dark to tell, he thought in frustration, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of boots on the cobbles behind him. Anticipating his lieutenant’s return, Reuven pivoted toward them.

  As soon as the man saw he had Reuven’s attention, he spoke.

  “Reinforcements will take care of the temple’s rear and side walls,” the man informed him. “The town captain was quite adamant. He assures you there will be no one who escapes his net.”

  “He refused my request?” Reuven demanded, sensing something amiss.

  “He said he could spare us the one man, and no more,” the lieutenant confirmed.

  “And his net?” Reuven challenged.

  “He has patrols in those areas, regardless,” the man replied.

  Which means he couldn’t spare them if he wanted to, Reuven realized. Or he didn’t want to.

  Still feeling that something was wrong, Reuven frowned. He couldn’t challenge the captain’s duplicity without causing resentment in his own men. The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably.

  “What is it?” Reuven demanded.

  “The captain said he’d send an extra watch to the waterfront to make sure no one made it to the fishing boats when they come in.”

  “And where did he say he’d find the men for that?” Reuven challenged.

  “He was rousing the day watch when I left,” the lieutenant answered, and Reuven relaxed a little.

  Perhaps it is not treachery, but truly the reality of manning, he thought, returning his attention to the bay.

  “Have the men ready to move as soon as our guide arrives.”

  He didn’t give the lieutenant a second glance, but continued his surveillance of the bay and the intervening town. As he did, he caught a flash of movement and pivoted to take a closer look at where he’d seen it.

  Nothing.

  Still scowling, he took a step toward the building. He was sure…

  “Captain?”

  Swearing softly under his breath, Reuven stopped and turned back.

  “Our guide is here.”

  * * *

  In the shadows toward which he’d been moving, a tall man-shaped shadow carefully relaxed. The lieutenant’s words hid the soft scrape of cloth as he moved a little closer, watching the troops being martialed.

  He was on the trail of something…someone he’d not known existed until a few nights ago, someone whose existence he’d only discovered when Fianrei, Lady of Light, had revealed it as the reason for her refusing his service.

  And her refusal had meant he could not go from being king’s assassin in service to Elira, Lady of Shadow to king’s advisor, as Fianrei’s servant, which was not as his king desired. Instead, he had to care for his endangered child before he could move forward…and that, too, had worked in the king’s favor.

  Although, until now, I didn’t know she existed to become endangered, he thought speaking a simple spell to allow him to hear the captain of the newly arrived soldiers as he declared the temple their destination and prey.

  Taking a breath to bring the tension under control, he eased back into the sheltering darkness and waited for the soldiers to move out. Keeping low and turning his face earthward as they passed, he raised his gaze enough to watch them.

  Not a single one of them glanced in his direction, not even the captain who’d seemed to see him, before. As soon as they were past, he moved out of his crouch and trotted quickly down the alley. He knew he could reach the temple before them, could warn the priests, could…

  He hesitated.

  There were other considerations, responsibilities he had to see completed, and his continued service to Elira had worked to his king’s interests, in spite of his disappointment. Rumors had arrived on the tail of Fianrei’s rejection, that a dark power rose in Toramar’s capital, that the land’s king had been suborned, that the human pantheon was under attack from one older than themselves.

  Fianrei and Elira wanted the truth of those rumors known. His king wanted the truth of Toramar’s growing instability and potential fall to darkness clarified.

  “Well, I can do the second,” Terinor decided, addressing himself softly. “Now, for the first…”

  He could beat the soldiers if he ran the streets, but with the city on alert he’d be running the risk of falling into their hands.

  Foolish, he decided, When I know a better way.

  There was a secret path into Staravan’s temple, although why the lord of the human deities tolerated it, Terinor didn’t know. I hope the reason is worth it.

  The priest had called it ‘The Mirrored Way,’ and there’d been a hidden entry in…

  Terinor racked his brains, slowing his pace as he approached an intersection.

  There was a pub…a dockside tavern…

  Glancing up, he took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling in response to the smell of stale piss and rotten fruit. The smell of salt and old fish rising from the direction of the docks wasn’t much better, but at least it gave him a direction to go in.

  Taking a leftward turn, Terinor continued picking at the problem.

  Now what was it called, exactly?

  Because there were two or three drinking establishments at the quayside, none of them particularly reputable.

  And what would a priest be doing drinking in one of those?

  Shoving the reason aside as not important, right now, Terinor kept moving, cautiously now he remembered the patrols that kept watch on the docks.

  The temple entrance was through the mirror in the high priest’s bedrooms, hence the route’s name.

  And there’s no way he doesn’t know about it, Terinor concluded, given he is aware of the path’s existence.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He wondered what it would be like to serve a deity who didn’t keep his people in the dark, and then snorted softly to himself.

  Who am I kidding? That’s the kind of secret any deity keeps to themselves until it’s needed.

  He came to an abrupt halt at the mouth of the alley he’d been following. Ahead of him, across the cobbles of the wharfside road, was the river, its water capped with white as its waters melded with the even greater river flowing past its mouth.

  The fishing boats skirted the maelstrom’s edges with care as they returned. Not even a once-in-a-decade phenomena was allowed to interfere with their need for a living.

  As it shouldn’t, Terinor decided, looking up and down the street.

  A wooden sign swinging gently in the night breeze, caught his eye. Thick, black lines portrayed a tankard adorned by a curving fang, and memory returned.

  Terinor smiled.

  The Cat’s Tooth, he recalled, and stepped out of the alley, straightening his clothes like he was emerging from some necessary private time. The action gave him enough time to survey the docks and street, once more.

  Seeing they were still clear, Terinor straightened his tunic, again, then strode purposefully toward the pub.

  * * *

  In the meantime, Henna trotted quickly through the temple halls, the newly-exchange priestess and her guardian following close on her heels. She took them unerringly through the high priest’s sleeping chambers, passing the canopied wooden bed and its attendant dressers without a second glance.

  She’d cleaned his chambers for the past year, and helped his wife with whatever tasks she needed, and it had been a privilege. Part of that had also been knowing what part of the border around the outsized mirror at the end of the room should be left alone.

  ‘The Mirrored Way,’ named for its temple entry point, was a closely held secret. That the high priest had asked her to show it to two strangers, and then told her to hide with the fishermen, meant something terrible was coming.

  She’d caught a glimpse of the creature in the atrium, and caught the stench of decayed leaves and flesh that rolled out before they’d closed the doors, and her hand shook as she depressed the leaves that would open the way.

  She hoped the high priest escaped, too…and that she could find him after. How would she learn how to serve Staravan is she did not?

  “Go,” she ordered, gesturing them through and glancing back as another scream drifted to them from the temple proper.

  “Come,” the man urged, reaching a hand toward her. “You can’t help them, and the high priest needs to know you are safe.”

  Hearing the truth in his words, Henna obeyed, a lump forming in her throat. Swallowing to clear it, she passed beyond the mirror, then turned and closed it firmly behind them. If others had followed, they would either find the passage, or make their escape over the high priest’s balcony. Either way, the stranger was right.

  The high priest wanted her safe, and she could only come back to keep the temple for his return if she stayed that way.

  “I should not leave it open,” she explained as the mirror clicked into place. Squeezing around them, she motioned for them to follow, “This way.”

  She wasn’t aware of the look of amused consternation the warrior gave her, and wouldn’t have cared if she’d seen it. The high priest had given her a charge and she was determined to keep it.

  She didn’t care if the man was three times her height, and wore chain mail and leather greaves. She didn’t care if his blue eyes held a gimlet gleam. She would not be swayed. Having determined that, she increased her pace, giving them no choice but to keep up.

  * * *

  Behind her, the warrior raised an eyebrow at her determination. If he was honest, he was torn. Part of him wanted to lead, and thus face any danger ahead before them. The other part of him acknowledged that not only was the danger behind them, but the girl knew the path ahead, and he did not.

  And as for Linna… Well, the priestess would walk where she wanted, and it would probably be best if he let her.

  What is it with the women who choose serving a deity as their vocation? he wondered, then shook his head. Later, maybe, I’ll ask her.

  In the end, she chose to walk at his side, and he felt strangely happy with the arrangement. He shook his head at that, too, and focused on keeping up with the acolyte. For someone with such a short stature, the child moved fast.

  She led them along a corridor lit by a soft enchanted light. Noting its source, Tarquin saw there were stones set in the wall at waist height. Set several feet apart, they shone with magic. The acolyte ignored them, too, although whether that was because of expedience or familiarity, he couldn’t tell.

  And now is not the time to ask, he decided, lengthening his stride to keep up.

  Time seemed to stand still, and each foot of corridor looked the same as the last. Nothing changed, and no sound came to them from beyond the passage walls. Only the beat of their own footsteps reached their ears. Part way along the corridor, Linna took his hand.

  Surprised, he almost rejected her soft grasp, but then realized what it was. Accepting her grip, Tarquin wrapped his hand around hers, content to walk forever if she was going to walk beside him.

  The corridor morphed to a set of stone stairs, and Henna signaled they should wait, while she crept up them. After a few heartbeats, she descended to where they could see her, and signaled they should follow.

  They did so without saying a word, stopping a few steps below her when she came to a solid stone wall. There, she spoke a single word, and the wall rippled to reveal a narrow alley rank with refuse and urine. Something rat-like scurried hurriedly away from their emergence, and a cat hissed and spat from the opposite side of the street before bolting up a rickety set of wooden stairs.

  Tarquin followed its progress, and saw no threat on the tiny landing above. He also saw no threat in the shadowed dark waiting to greet them.

  “Turn right and keep going until you reach the main street, then left and keep going until you get to the end. It leads straight to the forest. The high priest said to keep going and head south.”

  She laid her palm on Tarquin’s hand.

  “He said he’d get word to your brother and tell him to sail immediately. He said…” She stopped long enough to catch her breath in a short gasp. Taking another, she continued, “He said the danger was great for you all.”

  Tarquin nodded, but Linna reached out and gently clasped the girl’s shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she said, then indicated the docks. “Now, go, get to the fishing boats while you can.”

  The girl hesitated, then nodded, her eyes dark pools against the pallor of her cheeks.

  When she didn’t immediately start moving, Linna gave her a gentle push.

  “Go,” the priestess urged. “We’ll all be safer when we’ve done as the high priest asked.”

  She did not add that the high priest was still in the temple and might never emerge, but the thought hung there between them, vanishing as the acolyte spun on her heel and ran for the docks.

  Tarquin waited until the girl’s footsteps had faded to nothing, and the alley mouth remained empty, and then led the way in her wake.

  When they reached the dockside street, it lay silent and empty, devoid of the life it had held earlier in the day. Tarquin moved to the alley mouth and peered carefully around. The tavern signs still hung over the boardwalk bordering the road, and the shop awnings flapped gently in the breeze. Beyond the road, the rivers clashed and melded in a muted roar.

  Ignoring river, signs, and awnings, Tarquin turned left and lengthened his stride, Linna moving swiftly beside him. They had almost reached the beckoning safety of the forest, when they heard the sound of quick-marching boots striking the cobbles behind them.

  Neither of them looked back, and both resisted the urge to break into a run. It was hard, especially when the sound grew louder behind them. There was nowhere to run, since they’d left the last side street behind them, and with it the shop awnings and their shadows, so they had nowhere to hide save the trees ahead…if they could reach them.

  They both tensed, but kept walking. The shout, when it came made them both jump.

  “You two!”

  Tarquin’s stride hitched and he thought about making a break for the trees.

  Not without seeing how they’re armed, he decided. Last thing either of us needs is a crossbow bolt in the back.

  If they only held swords, he might chance it, but not if they had crossbows locked and loaded.

  He sighed, and turned slowly to face them, tucking Linna under his arm as he did so. If he was lucky, they’d be mistaken for a couple out for an evening stroll.

  Unlikely, he decided.

  “Yes?”

  The head of the patrol took two steps forward.

  “Stay where you are,” he directed. “You’re under arrest.”

  The man sounded young and inexperienced to Tarquin.

  “On what charges?” he challenged.

  “High treason and subversion,” the patrol leader replied, beginning to move closer.

  “For taking a romantic stroll to the woods?” Tarquin asked, letting his tone tell the man how stupid that sounded.

  “For having come from the Temple of Staravan,” the man retorted. “An arm around the priestess you’ve been escorting doesn’t make her your lover.”

  Tarquin took his arm from around Linna’s shoulders and tucked her behind him. He didn’t like it when she moved slightly to one side to give herself line of sight. It put her in line of sight of the patrolmen, and while their crossbows weren’t raised, they had them.

  “Our attendance at the temple was priestly business,” Tarquin argued. “We have no interest in treason.”

  “That is not what we’ve been told,” the patrol leader retorted, and thrust a hand toward them. “Seize them.”

  His inexperience showed as he bolted forward to carry out his own order, instead of ordering his men to their bows.

  It’s not like they’d try to bring a traitor in alive, Tarquin thought, …unless there’s something else afoot.

  He pivoted, grabbed Linna by the arm and towed her around.

  “Run!” he ordered, harsh-voiced with worry.

  The trees might only be a block away, but they’d allowed the patrol within ten feet.

  Not my smartest move.

  Hoping he could run faster than any of the men behind them, and that none of them thought to go for their bows, he raced for the forest’s edge, the space between his shoulder blades itching in anticipation of a bolt in the back.

  He needn’t have worried about her falling behind. The woman could run!

  And her grip on his hand was like a vice.

  The sound of footsteps grew louder behind them, and it looked like as fast as they were, there were soldiers who were faster still. He sucked in another breath, listening to their pursuit and trying to gauge when he needed to let go of Linna’s hand and prepare to fight.

  He’d almost decided it was time, when a shape materialized before them.

  Tarquin dropped Linna’s hand and drew his blade pivoting to keep himself between the priestess, the new arrival, and the patrol. He heard Linna’s voice raised in prayer beside him, but didn’t look to see if she’d closed her eyes.

  She’s not that stupid, he reassured himself.

  “Follow me. I will aid you,” was not what he was expecting to hear from the newly arrived stranger.

  To give the priestess her due, when he decided to trust the slender hope the stranger offered, the priestess followed without hesitation.

  Maybe she got word from her god.

  Light from a watch lantern swiped the stranger’s face, and he caught the impression of narrow features, pointed ears, and long hair held back by warrior’s braids. It was almost enough to make him stop, but strange elf or hunting human wasn’t much of a choice.

  He followed the elf, and hoped he hadn’t doomed them to a worse fate than the one waiting with the Watch.

  They turned into the narrow gap between two houses, the strange elf flattening himself against a weatherboard wall and signaling them past. Given it would give them one more thing between them and a crossbow bolt, Tarquin obeyed, reaching out to reclaim the priestess’s hand and tow her with him.

  A second instruction followed them past.

  “Stop before you get to the end.”

  He nodded in acknowledgement, not caring that the elf wouldn’t see it.

  Magic rose in a quiet chant behind them, its tones soft and beguiling, inviting him to listen further. He shook it’s influence away, glad it wasn’t directed toward him

  I might not have been able to resist it, otherwise.

  Magic flowed away from them as they reached the other end of the gap, and they halted. Seconds later, the elf brushed by them.

  “This way,” he instructed. “I know a place.”

  Tarquin wanted to ask what he’d done, and how long they had before the patrol resumed its pursuit, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he followed the elf as he took them along the rear of the last few houses before the forest’s edge. There, he waited.

  “Come,” he urged, when Tarquin hesitated. “We have little time.”

  Tarquin followed, but halted a few feet into the shadows.

  “What stake do you have in this?” he demanded, pulling Linna close.

  The elf watched the movement with a look of impatience.

  “I have questions that need answering,” he replied abruptly, and turned away. “Now, come.”

  He didn’t look back to see if they obeyed, but led them deeper into the woods, threading his way through thick clusters of bushes and letting the trees close behind them.

  It was only when they heard movement ahead, that he called a halt. They shrank into crouches, their ears straining at the night.

  The sound came again, movement slightly ahead, but closer to the river bank.

  The elf rose, stooping slightly as he turned toward it.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll see what that is.”