The action outside was already coming to a close by the time Eltarri made it to the door, and she reached the doorway just as the white-robed young woman streaked past her into the cathedral. The plethora of bandits who had moments ago been vying for entry now lay dead in gruesome piles of mutilated flesh. The drawbridge was up, and armored guards were grimly finishing the brutal task of destroying the attackers.
Eltarri swallowed hard and tried to ignore the twisting of her stomach at the smell and sight of the carnage. She could never have imagined that such a grisly slaughter would be possible on the threshold of a church. She turned away from the sight and saw the girl in the white robe standing near a brown-haired child down a hall opposing the one by which she’d come to the site of the battle. Eltarri’s throat clenched, painful memories suddenly racing through her mind at the sight of the child. He looked like . . .
No! You don’t have time to remember.
Eltarri fiercely blinked back tears and moved across the corridor, avoiding the few living bandits who staggered about or groaned piteously from the floor. She did her best to avoid looking at the boy, unable to bear the stab of guilt and almost physical pain that went through her heart every time she glimpsed him. She had no idea as to why a child would be present at such a horrendous scene, but she wasn't exactly surprised by it. Children had a habit of ending up in terribly places they didn't belong. What did surprise her was that the short girl who appeared to be the boy's acquaintance was Elven. She'd never known an elf who didn't help humans for their own benefit, and it was with wariness that she approached the harmless-looking girl.
But before Eltarri could even open her mouth to ask one of her many questions, the Elven girl was talking, explaining in a low, urgent voice that made her seem a figure of authority. Was she a priestess? That would explain the robe. But what about the boy? She listened hard in the hope that the elf would be able to alleviate some of her confusion, but at the end Eltarri found herself more confused than she’d been before the girl had began. The elf’s story made sense, since her earlier encounter had revealed that the bandits were apparently here after a single person, but why would any bandit leader send an army to come after one injured man if they could sneak in assassins who could kill off the heads of the church without trouble? And did the fact that the boy was in front of them despite being the result of an interrupted spell mean that he was only a semi-angel, or some kind of angel-in-training who was just going to end up as another guilt-causing deadweight on her conscience? And how did an Elven girl who looked so young – even for an elf – manage to be in charge of the cathedral’s defenses?
Eltarri shook her head and tried to ask a question. “First of all, who are—”
The boy spoke at the same time and Eltarri cut herself off, turning her gaze to the far wall to avoid having to see him even out of the corner of her eye. Just the sound of the child’s voice was enough make her eyes water. But not even he could finish his question, for he’d barely begun to speak when the din of a hundred pounding feet began to echo through the stone, growing louder as the hoard approached. At the head of the crowd was the ax-bearing man, and even from afar Eltarri could see his eyes burning with anger, and his infuriated bellow made her blood run cold. Why did all of her brilliant ideas always end up returning to bite her in the backside? It seemed the explanations would have to wait while they worried about preserving their lives.
“Let’s go talk to this guy,” she said quickly to the elf, “but only if we can we get to him without having to go through the mob."
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