"Tracy Falbe - The Rys Chronicles 03 - Judgment Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Falbe Tracy)

honor guard waved sublimely in the sunny spring morning, and the fruit trees bloomed heavily on
the Holy Avenue.

At the entrance to the temple fortress stood a dozen black-robed priests in front of the grim lattice
of the portcullis. The foremost priest had a long white beard that stood out against his robe like
strong waves crashing on black rock. Placing one hand on the hilt of his sword, he raised his other
hand as if to bar the way. The chariot halted and SandinтАЩs mounted honor guard waited behind
him.

тАЬWho dares to storm the gate of GolanтАЩs temple?тАЭ demanded the priest.

Sandin stayed in his chariot, and with a haughtiness meant to impress his patron God, he began to
list the details of his identity.

тАЬIt is Sandin of Clan Promentro who dares. Welcome me with the honor I deserve for I am Lord
General and Hordemaster of the Atrophane Empire, Lord of Balustra, Gedam, Hemsdar, Athelna and
Hekpont, winner of seven campaigns, and newly appointed Darhet of the Western Frontier.тАЭ

Satisfied by the immense response, the priest announced, тАЬGolan welcomes AtrophaneтАЩs highest
warrior!тАЭ
All the priests and the honor guard cheered, and Sandin accepted their adulation with a regal
wave. The chariot driver held back the quartet of horses that shifted with excitement. With parade
precision, the priests turned toward the temple and the portcullis began to groan upward.

When the chariot followed the priests inside the temple, the pace seemed impossibly slow to
Sandin after roaring through the center of Cros in a grand display. The ceremony ahead would be
much more tedious than idling behind some plodding priests, but he anticipated the reception
afterward.

The interior of the temple was not nearly as austere as the high granite walls indicated. Statues,
tapestries, and fine paintings filled the temple to the point of clutter. Works of Atrophaney masters
were present as well as art taken from conquered lands and given as ceremonial booty to Golan by
generations of military men. But Sandin had a much finer prize to offer his guardian religion than
the bauble of some foreign genius.

Attendant priests draped a black silk cape over SandinтАЩs shoulders and led him into the sanctum,
where high small windows rationed the sunlight. Flaming braziers spilled their orange glare onto
SandinтАЩs armor and he pulled the cape tighter around his chest. The black fabric symbolized the
ravenтАЩs wing and was meant to remind all warriors that war was more than the glory of shining
armor. Victory was achieved by the leave of the carrion crow.

The grim statue of the anthropomorphic God of war sat across from Sandin behind the altar. Carved
of black basalt, the indifferent face of the harsh God gazed beyond the ceremony taking place at his
feet. Driven by desire that could never be fully satisfied, Golan surveyed Ektren with roving eyes
that did not blink, not even when confronted by the worst mayhem.

Standing before the altar, the high priest wore a shining black robe and a headdress emblazoned
with flames in gold leaf. Sandin approached the elderly lord of the temple, who was bent with great
age and a great contradiction to the young men sent to serve GolanтАЩs cravings.