The Warlords of Nin by Stephen Lawhead

could be heard the minute sounds of a group of people hurrying along the path, desperately trying to pass unseen: the rattling echo of a stone dislodged by a careless foot, the muffled creak of a wheel upon the rock, a cough.
    Then their murky shapes could be seen against the night sky as they drew nearer. They were on foot, and there were smaller shadows among the larger ones. They huddled together in a close knot, rather than ranging themselves along the trail; they evidently feared separation more than detection.
    â€œIt is no army,” breathed Ronsard between clenched teeth. He let his breath out slowly. “But now to find out who they are and why they risk the cliffs at night—the very thing we declined to do.”
    â€œWe had a choice; perhaps they felt they had none,” replied Theido.
    Ronsard rose from his place and stepped near the trail, just ahead of the nocturnal travelers’ leader. When the man approached close at hand, Ronsard said in a loud, steady voice, “Halt, friend! In the name of the Dragon King!”
    A shriek and a stifled oath came from the main body of the group. But the man stopped dead in his tracks and looked about him for the source of the unexpected command. Ronsard stepped closer, and the moonlight fell on his face. He smiled and held up his hands to show the frightened travelers that he meant them no harm.
    â€œWh-what do you w-want?” the leader managed to stammer.
    â€œI wish to speak with you—that is all. I will not detain you long.” Ronsard still spoke in the same steady voice, loud enough for all to hear.
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œI am the lord high marshal of Mensandor,” replied Ronsard. “Who are you, and what are you doing on this road in the dead of night?”
    â€œOh, sir!” gasped the relieved man. “You do not jest? You are really a king’s man?”
    â€œAt your service. Are you in trouble?”
    At this all the people rushed forward, drawing close around Ronsard as if to seek the protection of his title, a welcome shield over their heads. They all began to shout.
    Theido crept from his hiding place and came to stand beside Ronsard, who held up his hands and called for quiet. “I think I would better hear the tale from only one mouth at a time. You are the leader of this band.” He pointed to the man he had first addressed. “You begin.”
    The man’s face shone pale in the moonlight, but Theido got the impression that it would be pale in the bright daylight as well. Deep lines of fear were drawn on the man’s countenance. His eyes did not hold steady, but shifted to the right and left and all around as if to warn him of the imminent approach of an enemy.
    â€œI . . . we . . .” The man’s mouth worked like a pump, but his words were slow in coming.
    â€œIt is all right; you are safe for the time. I have soldiers with me, and we will defend you at need.” Ronsard raised his arm in signal, and his knights came forward to stand along the trail, their hands upon the hilts of their long swords.
    Their presence seemed to frighten the man rather than calm him.
    â€œCome, you may speak freely,” said Theido in a gentle voice.
    â€œWe are from Dorn,” the leader managed to wheeze at length. “We have left our homes and carry all our belongings with us. We are going to the High Temple of Ariel.” He paused, gulped air, and plunged ahead. “We do not know where else to go.”
    â€œIt is a strange pilgrimage you make, friend,” observed Ronsard. “Why do you leave your homes and flee by night?”
    â€œHave you not heard? They are coming . . . a terrible host, terrible. They have landed at Halidom, and they are coming.Why, we are fleeing for our lives to the protection of Ariel! Only the gods can save us now.”
    â€œWho is coming? Have you seen anyone?”
    The man looked at Ronsard, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Do you not