Chapter Eight
Tyrael struggled with doubt, but he could not reveal that struggle to his companions, who looked to him for leadership and guidance.
Before departing Westmarch, he had believed with certainty that they needed to sail to Skovos to bolster their number, and yet, their expedition had nearly ended in disaster.
Were it not for the timely arrival of the Amazons, they would have all perished, including himself.
The Horadrim would have gone extinct in the cursed waters of Atanos, leaving Sanctuary without one of its last remaining defenses against the Burning Hells.
Perhaps he had been wrong about this journey. Perhaps he should not trust his judgment as readily as he once did. He did not doubt that Sanctuary must be protected. He did not doubt Lorath or Donan, who were both men of courage and moral fortitude.
Tyrael doubted himself.
As the Arabel sailed to Temis, the Amazons worked to repair the minor damage the enemy had caused, even though the vessel did not belong to them. As Keldon watched them, his expression turned from defensive annoyance to grudging gratitude and respect.
“I don’t know why they’d bother making her shipshape when she ain’t theirs,” he said.
Tyrael was not surprised, thinking back to the Amazons he had known. “I believe it speaks to the value their culture places on sailing vessels, in the same way other cultures revere their horses, or their camels.”
“We might share something in common, then,” Keldon said.
Lorath laughed. “Our reception thus far doesn’t fill me with a lot of hope for that.”
“All will be well,” Tyrael said, trying to sound as if he believed it.
The sun rose over them as they sailed toward it, warming the deck.
Clouds billowed across the steel-blue sky, offering occasional shade, and the wind tasted of salt from the deep sea.
Gulls hovered in the air above the ship, and a few descended to perch on the gunwale and other parts of the Arabel.
Tyrael noted that the Amazons made a point of leaving the birds undisturbed.
As they approached Temis, its features came into view, and Tyrael beheld a mighty metropolis.
Though he had been there before, the memory of it had faded, like so many others, as if he were now seeing a place he had only heard described.
The island’s numerous sharp peaks rose high above the water in a tight gathering, and all but their rocky summits appeared covered in buildings, palaces, gardens, groves, and orchards.
It was an ancient center of civilization, built by the Firstborn at the dawn of Sanctuary’s creation, but the Askari had made it their home for thousands of years, utilizing and adding to the existing structures until the entire island had become one great city.
“In all my sailing, I’ve not seen the like,” said Keldon.
Lorath and Donan also appeared captivated, though when Lorath shook his head, it did not seem to be from astonishment.
“What is it?” Tyrael asked him.
“They appear to have been spared the evils of our time that have decimated so many other cities.”
“We won’t know that for sure until we land,” Tyrael said. “But even so, would that not be a good thing?”
“For the Askari, yes.”
The Arabel sailed directly toward what Tyrael assumed to be the island’s primary harbor, held in the encircling arms of two towering seawalls, the size of which rivaled the fortifications surrounding the greatest cities on either side of the Twin Seas.
Both sections of the wall stood at least fifty feet high and twelve feet thick, crowned with battlements and artillery.
At the end of each, a mammoth statue stood twice as tall as the wall, flanking the entrance to the harbor.
One depicted an angel, resplendent in plate armor, which Tyrael assumed to be Inarius.
The other statue resembled Lilith, the demonic mother of humankind, wearing graceful flowing robes.
All who entered the port had to pass between these sentinels and beneath their imposing shadows.
“You worship both angels and demons?” Donan asked.
The Amazon nearest him flashed him a look of confusion. “We do not worship—” She followed the young man’s gaze upward, and it seemed she took notice of the statues in a way she ordinarily would not. “The Askari did not make those,” she said. “They were built by the Firstborn.”
As they entered the harbor, the seawalls choked off most of the wind, and the Arabel ’s sails began to luff.
They moved forward slowly through numerous ships at anchor.
Many of them resembled the warship that had rescued them from Atanos, with square-rigged sails and oars.
Others resembled the sailing vessels of Westmarch, and still others could have come from Gea Kul or Kurast. The Amazons pulled Tyrael and the other three to their feet but left them bound, facing the city ahead.
Before their ship had made it much farther, she drifted to a halt.
“If you will allow a question, Captain,” Lorath said, “what now?”
“An unknown vessel has just entered the Great Harbor of Temis,” she said. “We will not be here long.”
Her prediction proved accurate. Tyrael soon noticed a cutter of perhaps twenty oars speeding their way.
When the vessel approached within hailing distance, half the rowers exchanged their oars for drawn bows.
When Adreona stepped up to the prow of the Arabel, it seemed the cutter’s helmsman recognized her.
“Looks like you caught yourself another pirate ship, Captain!” he called. “You could have a whole fleet by now!”
“I don’t want a fleet, Parmo!” she called back. “But I would accept better provisions for my warriors, and a legion of reinforcements to relieve them!”
The helmsman laughed. “Not sure I have the power to give you that! Meantime, where do you want this?”
“All the way in,” she said, waving her pointed finger in a circle. “We’ve got four guests to question, and this ship needs a thorough search.”
“Aye, Captain!” the helmsman said.
His archers stowed their bows and dropped the blades of their oars back into the water. Then the cutter threw a line up to the Arabel, and after the two vessels were tethered, the rowers began hauling both crafts toward the distant piers.
“Guests?” Lorath muttered. “I don’t typically restrain my guests, do you?”
“Have patience,” Tyrael said. “The Askari are being cautious, as is their right. We have committed no crime, which they will soon discover.”
As the cutter towed the Arabel closer to the Temis docks, the details of the city became visible.
Many of its buildings appeared to have been constructed of pearlescent marble, and others had been given a washing of lime, so that much of the city gleamed white.
Rooftop tiles were glazed with blue, red, and other vibrant hues, adding dashes of color that rose up the mountains with the terraces.
Here and there, monumental statues stood above the rooftops, depicting angels and demons alike, often near the vaulted domes and pinnacles.
Banners waving from towers bore images that Tyrael assumed to represent noble houses, clans, or guilds.
From the peak of the largest mountain, in the middle of the city, jutted a cliff-like bastion, an edifice of such prominence and grandeur it could only be the keep of the Amazon Queen.
Back when Tyrael had sent the previous expedition of Horadrim to Skovos, a woman named Etara sat on the throne, but much in Sanctuary had changed since then.
Other cities and kingdoms had seen their dynasties fall in the wake of Malthael’s Reaping.
He wondered if Queen Etara still ruled or if another had assumed the mantle.
At last, the cutter pulled the Arabel alongside a pier, where dockhands secured her and laid a plank across her gangway. Adreona marched toward Tyrael and his companions and gestured toward the ramp.
“This way, travelers.”
Lorath shrugged and went first, followed by Donan.
Keldon seemed reluctant to leave his ship, looking over her deck with his brow low in worry. “I just got her back,” he said.
“No harm will come to your vessel in this harbor,” Adreona said. “I swear that to you on my honor. And if you are who you say you are, she will be returned to you.”
That seemed to appease the sailor enough for him to leave the Arabel of his own volition.
Then Tyrael walked across the plank onto the pier, and from there the Amazons escorted them in single file along the dock.
Adreona led the way, with armed warriors marching to each side and more bringing up the rear.
The ordinary men and women they passed gave way with bowed heads, suggesting respect for members of the Amazon caste, though some eyed Tyrael and the other Horadrim with suspicious glances.
When they reached the end of the pier, Adreona led them up a wide avenue paved well with quality flagstones, though the street was not without dips and ruts in need of repair where the surface had cracked and failed.
They encountered pedestrians and a few carts pulled by mules, but this quarter of the city boasted no throngs despite it being so near the harbor.
The buildings they passed stood in good repair, for the most part; even the many structures that appeared disused had not been abandoned completely to the elements and vermin.
Frescoes and mosaics adorned the houses and courtyards they glimpsed down winding side streets, depicting aquatic beasts, ships, horses, and heroic figures.
Water fountains trickled and sang, and from somewhere nearby, Tyrael heard the mournful music of a lyre, accompanied by a drum.
They passed few shops, and what Tyrael at first took to be a tented food stall turned out to be a ration dispensary, with a line of Askari citizens waiting to receive their allotment.