Free 5: The Holy Road by Ginn Hale Page B

close, John noticed the deep wrinkles at the corners of Wah’roa’s eyes and mouth. He was older than John had first thought, probably well into his forties. His energetic motions and youthful build disguised it well.
    “Good to meet you.” John bowed and one of the packs slumped into the back of his head. He straightened quickly.
    Both Alidas and Wah’roa smiled at John’s clumsy response.
    “We are well met indeed, Ushvun Jahn.” Wah’roa lightly touched the Prayerscar on his brow. “I had come to fetch you so that you might join the kahlirash’im in our prayer vigil for Ushiri Ravishan.”
    More prayers. John tried to look enthusiastic. If nothing else, the years at Rathal’pesha had more than prepared him to meet that liturgical challenge.
    “When it comes to a prayer vigil, I’m your man,” John offered as gamely as he could.
    Wah’roa inclined his head as if expecting as much of an attendant.
    “Would you be offended if Rashan Alidas joined us for the ride up to the temple?” Wah’roa inquired.
    “I’d be glad for the company,” John replied. “Will we be meeting up with Ravishan there?”
    “Ushiri Ravishan?” Wah’roa asked, placing a slight emphasis on Ravishan’s proper title. He shook his head. “No, he will receive blessings in the golden chamber and then be honored with a feast. We will pray for the divine Rifter’s swift return and righteous judgment.”
    “An uplifting evening, then,” John murmured. To his surprise, Wah’roa laughed.
    “We will be lifted up, indeed,” Wah’roa replied, and for some reason, he and Alidas exchanged amused grins. Then Wah’roa strode to one of the rashan’im standing guard. They exchanged a few words and the guard hurried away. A few minutes later he reappeared, leading a third, very large tahldi.
    Wah’roa and Alidas both mounted quickly and made it look easy. John only noticed Alidas’ brief wince of pain because he was looking for it. John heaved himself up into the saddle. He scrambled to catch hold of the reins and get his feet into the stirrups before his buck took off. The tahldi clearly wasn’t used to waiting for clumsy men to settle themselves.
    They didn’t take the wide road that Ravishan and the rest of the rashan’im had followed into the fortress. Instead they passed through a second, much smaller gate. The road narrowed and seemed to lead directly up into the fortress, instead of encircling it as the larger road did. The tahldi sprang easily up shallow steps that had obviously been designed to accommodate their strides.
    As they continued upward, John realized that their path had cut across the wide main road at some point. John couldn’t see past the walls on either side of him, but once he thought he heard the rashan’im calling out their praises to Ravishan from below him.
    At last they reached the next tier of black iron walls. Rashan’im in dark uniforms stood guard at another gate. Unlike Wah’roa, none of them wore red Prayerscars on their brows or had sharpened teeth.
    “Here.” Wah’roa reined his tahldi to a halt. John’s own mount stopped as well, seeming to realize that Wah’roa was the one to obey, not John.
    Wah’roa dismounted. “We should leave the tahldi. They get nervous in the lift.”
    Alidas followed him. John took longer, fighting to loose his boots from stirrups that had obviously been designed for a man with narrower feet.
    “They belong to the Nassva Stable,” Wah’roa told the guard. “See that they get back there.”
    “It will be done, sir.” One of the guards bowed and took the reins of all three tahldi.
    The other two guards heaved the heavy gates open, exposing a corridor leading deep into the fortress.
    As John followed Alidas and Wah’roa into the gloom, he felt the weight and strength of the stone and iron closing in around him. Behind them the doors swung shut. It was dark but not pitch black, as John had expected. Instead, a pale phosphorescent light radiated from