“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Good. Let’s go then.”
They approached the building from the rear, which was unguarded as there was no entrance. The sound of children laughing drifted in from one of the open windows a few streets away, and Alistair’s gut clenched at the thought of doing battle so close to innocents. But there was nothing for it—this had to be done. He only hoped the women and children would have enough sense to stay far away from the temple until they were through.
“I’ll go ahead and take care of the one guarding the entrance,” Alistair said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible even to his own ears.
Tariana nodded and motioned for him to go ahead. Alistair took a few silent steps forward and prepared to hop over the railing that ran around the structure. But just as he flexed his legs, he felt a sizzle in the air.
“Get back!” he roared at the soldiers as fire exploded all around them. He leapt through the flames, then rolled on the ground to douse them before springing up over the railing. Behind him, he could hear the screams of agony from the men, and his gut clenched with guilt and sorrow. Glancing back, he saw several men who had not managed to get clear rolling on the ground. Tariana had taken off her cloak and was beating them, trying to douse the flames. He sincerely hoped Tinor wasn’t one of them, but there was no time to dwell on it. The warlocks were already on the alert.
Alistair drew his sword, then sprinted toward the front of the temple. Two priests charged around the corner, their faces twisted as they shouted battle cries. Magic glowed around their hands, and fire bloomed in Alistair’s chest, an instinctive response that he had to clamp down on. With lightning speed, he hurtled a dagger at one of the warlocks just as he raised his hand to fling whatever battle magic he’d conjured. The knife sank deep into the man’s throat, but he managed to hurtle the ball of glowing magic anyway. Alistair lunged at the second man’s legs, bringing him to the ground and avoiding the attack all at once. The magic smashed into the wall behind him, and debris rained down all around them.
“Who are you?” the other warlock snarled. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Alistair was already standing over him again. Ignoring the warlock’s question, he drove his sword through the man’s chest.
“With me!” he shouted as Tariana and the other strike force soldiers came running from around the other side of the temple. He didn’t know how they’d gotten past the ring of fire, and didn’t care—all that mattered was they were unhurt. Yanking his bloodied sword out of the dying man’s chest, he led the charge into the temple. It was a cavernous space, much bigger on the inside than it looked from the street, with a giant statue of Rumas. The warlock god wielded a staff in one hand, and a giant flame sat on the open palm of the other hand, no doubt kindled and tended by the temple staff. Next to him was a boar with wickedly curved tusks that came up to the god’s hip. Standing in front of the massive statue were four more warlocks, all dressed in priest garb. A glowing red dome surrounded the four of them.
Alistair only had a split second to take all of this in. One of the warlocks made a hand gesture, and a volley of arrows hurtled toward them out of nowhere.
“Shield!” Tariana yelled. The soldiers complied, but not fast enough—four were taken down, arrows protruding from chests, throats, and heads. The rest charged forward, attempting to break the shield, but it held fast. Three men were incinerated upon contact.
“Give up,” one of the warlocks sneered. “You cannot hope to defeat us.”
Alistair and Tariana locked gazes. A silent understanding passed between them, and they both whipped off their cloaks. “We’ll see about that,” Alistair growled, letting rage flow over him. “Fall back! Now!”
The soldiers retreated, and the bewildered expressions on their faces disappeared as Alistair and Tariana shifted. Their forms rapidly expanded, taking up most of the space in the temple until they towered over the warlocks. As Alistair rose up to his full height, flame boiling in his chest, the magical dome seemed puny, as did the warlocks within. Their faces went bone white with fear, and the shield flickered.
Tariana wasted no time unleashing a torrent of fire at that first sign of weakness. The warlocks attempted to bolster the shield, but when Alistair added his own fire to the assault, they were unable to hold out. Their screams of horror and agony filled the temple, and in seconds, they were reduced to ash.
Stunned silence descended upon the temple, and yet Alistair could still hear screams. It took him a moment to realize they were coming from outside the temple.
Shit, Tariana said, her voice echoing tersely in his mind. Bystanders.
The two of them hastily resumed their human forms, then wrapped their cloaks around themselves to hide their nakedness. Seconds later, several men hurried into the temple, wielding pitchforks and old blades that had seen better days.
“What is the meaning of all this?” the oldest man demanded, his voice harsh. He was a tall, imposing figure with pure white hair and pale eyes. “How dare you defile our sacred temple!”
“I am Captain Grensham,” Alistair said, stepping forward to confront the man. “We were sent here by order of King Wulorian himself to punish a renegade group of priests who were planning sedition.”
“Sedition?” The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, and his gaze landed on the piles of ash behind Alistair. “Who burned them to cinders like this?”
“I’m afraid one of their spells backfired,” Tariana said in an airy voice. “These priests let their power go too far to their heads.” She pinned the men with a stern look. “I suggest you let us finish cleaning up this mess, so we can get back to the capital and report on our mission. We wouldn’t want to keep the king waiting.”
The men exchanged nervous glances. “No, of course not,” the elder said. He inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you for taking care of these criminals. Let us know if you need any assistance.”
The men retreated, and Alistair let out a sigh of relief. He sent several of the remaining soldiers out to form a perimeter and keep the bystanders back while he and the remaining soldiers searched the temple. At first, it appeared to be an ordinary place of worship, but one of the soldiers found a hidden trapdoor beneath a rug that led to an underground warehouse.
“By the gods,” Tariana muttered as they descended, holding torches to illuminate the way. There were shelves and shelves full of weapons and armor, and as they inspected the various boxes, Alistair discovered several kegs of gunpowder. “There is enough here to blow this place to bits.”