"No. The creature, I think it’s with them."
"Who are they then?" said the High Enchantress.
"I think they are… Templars."
"Templars? Here? How many?"
"Yes, High Enchantress. Perhaps twice our number. The creature. It seems a part of their group."
Ella’s heart began to palpitate in her chest. The Primate’s men. They were here. She looked around and saw many of the soldiers muttering, prayers on their lips.
She suddenly felt incredibly exposed here in the open desert. She longed for the rivers and forests of Altura like never before. She just wanted to go home.
The High Enchantress seemed to think for a moment.
"At last," one of the bladesingers said. "We can face them on open ground."
"Quiet," said Evora Guinestor.
She turned to Ella. "My child, your work is not yet done. There is one more thing I have to ask of you."
Ella paled. "What is it?"
"Be strong, Ella."
Without another word the High Enchantress removed her shimmering green silk robe, to stand only in a light underdress. Embarrassed, the soldiers turned away. The bladesingers looked on, interested.
"High Enchantress, that’s your…"
"It’s my gift to you, if only for a time. I have enchanted this with the greatest runes of concealment and protection that are within my ability to construct. Now, put it on, and place the hood over your head."
Ella did as she was told.
"You have the Lexicon. That is what is important. Contained within its pages are the instructions for renewal. We face an unknown enemy here, but with three bladesingers and my skill we may yet prevail. One must make plans for undesirable outcomes, however, so you are to stay hidden Ella. I will activate the runes of concealment and you will stay here. Do you understand?"
"I do, High Enchantress."
Evora Guinestor met Ella’s eyes. Ella saw compassion there, and understanding.
"You opened the book, didn’t you?"
Ella nodded.
"Good, I am glad. Remember, all schools of lore are different facets of the same jewel. The one who understands that and applies it is the one who holds the world in her hands. Now kneel. Cover your head with your arms."
Ella sank to the sand, ignoring its blistering heat.
"Su-nam! Al-turak-ackour!" the High Enchantress chanted activation sequences, one after the other, in short, staccato syllables.
The shimmering robe began to grow translucent. Ella knelt on the ground, completely still, her satchel inside the folds of the robe. Her head was covered, she could see nothing.
She heard the sound of the men grouping into a battle formation. They moved away from her, still audible through the crisp desert air.
A great roar sounded, as close as she had ever heard it. The creature was near.
A tiny glimmer of light shone through a tiny gap in the robe. She looked out.
Ella could see a crest of the desert, a long line of the sand outlined against the setting sun. Figures suddenly rose from the summit, like spikes from a barricade. Men. Many men. They were all dressed in white robes, a black sun on their breasts. They drew swords.
"Men, draw swords!" it was the voice of Captain Joram.
The templars ran down the hill, gaining momentum as their numbers pushed forward. More than five times the number of Alturans.
One other figure ran at the forefront of the templars, a long dagger brandished in either fist. It was a woman, dressed in a billowing white dress. Her hair was a wild mess. She ran with a disconcerting gate that reminded Ella of nothing more than a bounding wolf.
The woman opened her lips and screamed. It was the cry of the beast, the shriek of the night creature. Ella quailed and pulled the robe closer about her body. She trembled. All she could see now was darkness.
She could hear the High Enchantress chanting. The Alturans cried together as they ran to meet their foe. There was a horrible crunching, rending sound as sword chewed into bone. Men screamed. A liquid squelching told of a man’s disembowelment. Explosions boomed. Ella felt the searing heat of flashbombs and prismatic orbs. Above it all the sound of the bladesingers voices rose as they called forth the power in their armour, as their swords became blades of flame.
There was a hideous grunting sound, and then she could only make out two of the bladesingers voices.
Then, moments later, just one.
Remembering the High Enchantress’s activation sequence for the cloaking effect, Ella chanted under her breath, frightened and alone in the darkness.
She listened for Evora’s voice. It was gone. She listened for the last bladesinger. Gone. She stopped her chant, lest someone hear her.
There was one final clash of swords.
Then there was nothing.
She heard a soft crunching sound. A sniffing came from right beside her. Tears ran down Ella’s face as she trembled. Ella smelled a terrible smell, a fetid odour of corruption.
Suddenly there was a mighty roar, a terrible scream of incredible power, a cry of triumph. Ella nearly screamed in fright.