Temple of the Traveler: Book 01 - Doors to Eternity (12 page)

By freak chance, the panicked man cut the charging ram’s leg tendon and stabbed upward at just the right angle to inflict a slow-but-fatal wound. The death throes kept him pinned against the wood and ironically shielded him from other spirit activity for several bits to come. Gallatin clung to a slender thread of sanity by promising that he would never travel away from home again. Winemaking in the remote hill country now seemed more glamorous than at any time in history.

Black clouds gathered over the courtyard. Frogs rained down on the pattern at Kragen’s command, striking Tumberlin several painful blows. His defenses were weak, and his master was intent on humiliating him. Still, the son of the Imperial Ambassador to Kiateros would not yield. Every indignity in the last seven years rose up inside him like bile. He would never scrape another boat as long as he lived. If Kragen wouldn’t give him the final lesson, by the gods, Tumberlin would take it. The portly wizard took a stride toward the prize fossils in the center and brought forth rats to eat the frogs. The ki mages watched, relishing every moment. No matter who survived the duel, they could sweep in together and win control of the sept for themselves.

Tashi crawled the length of the building, remaining silent even under the indignity of the frogs.

Kragen brought forth cats to devour the rats almost without effort. Feeling drained by repeated summoning, Tumberlin barely managed to counter in time with the predictable dogs. The act had taken him a step away from the center, enabling his master to close the gap. Each step would now entail a strategy beyond simple attack-and-defense.

Tashi reached the corner and could see the bell of Miracles hanging over the gate into the inner gardens.

Probabilities all over the island were being affected by the wizards’ battle. One set of guards gambling in a corner got into a fistfight because the dice came up hexes every time. Each accused the other of cheating.

The master’s next thrust seemed to miss, moving the lens framework several feet. As the apprentice took his next step, however, the lens focused the invisible sun’s beams that reflected off the mirrors into a tight, incandescent point. The stone in front of Tumberlin melted and his bare foot sank an inch through the molten surface. The pain was excruciating and burned him more than mere fire ever had. When he pulled his foot out, it looked like the wax puddle a candle left in the morning. Tumberlin channeled the pain into his already-summoned birds. These had been his favorite pets for so long that they were nearly solid and responded to his every thought. First, the flock knocked over the giant lens, breaking it into pieces. Then, the maddened creatures spiraled around Kragen, beating him with their wings and cruelly slashing any flesh exposed. The melted stone cooled and congealed without the continued influx of energy.

While his master summoned predator birds to counter the flock, Tumberlin tried to take another step but fell across the pattern with a whimper. The noise of the clashing flocks was terrible. Kragen’s face now bore several bloody scratches, his hands were solid red, and both his lips and left ear had a ragged tear. The crime lord was truly angry. His bodyguard stood gripping a dart but remained unmoving. The master had not yet signaled for his interference. To act prematurely would bring his wrath upon the guard.

For all the men present, moments stretched as life and death came down to the next few heartbeats. Tashi abandoned stealth and ran for the bell, taking the hidden item from beneath his chainmail. The smith crept to the edge of the gate. As the Imperial guard called Morlan cocked his arm back to throw his dart, a dagger sank into the base of his throat. He had time for one gasp before his air passage was flooded with his own blood. Morlan struggled in vain to burble a warning to his master as he sank to his knees and collapsed helplessly onto the stones. Perversely, the guard could see everything that happened in the next minute but couldn’t intervene.

Tumberlin crawled desperately toward the human fossils in the center. His hand was mere inches away when his master touched the recently molten stone with a fingertip. The spark leapt and Tumberlin froze in mid-gesture. The stone his master used held both an impression and life force from the apprentice. He had insufficient willpower left to resist his master’s domination. Eventually, he would lose.

Just then he heard a loud chime, the purest tone imaginable. Convinced that it was his soul being claimed, Tumberlin fainted. Everyone else turned to see the source. A sheriff was standing with what appeared to be a large tuning fork in his hands, banging it with all his might against the garden bell. No one present could remember it ever being rung before. Instead of fading away, the tone got progressively louder with every swing until they had to cover their ears.

When the reverberation reached the proper intensity, all the spirit detectors in the courtyard sered, much like a piece of crystal subjected to a perfect, high-C note. The mirror shields vibrated down from their mountings and danced on the stones below. Dust leaked from the archways and the crypts groaned in resonance. In that instant, every trace of spirits on the island, every one of the fell creatures within earshot, vanished completely.

The people around the courtyard weren’t sure in the next moment whether they had all gone deaf or the sound had stopped abruptly. The sheriff, who’d stopped striking the bell, faced the conflict and pointed at the high wizard. Two consecutive arrows sprouted from Lord Kragen’s chest and he collapsed, breaking the silence with his fall. Gallatin, still shaking from his ordeal on the bridge, had managed to avenge his brethren.

Tashi replaced his tuning fork and slid down a drain pipe, yelling, “First battalion, smash the center stones during the calm. I don’t know how long this reprieve will last.”

The smith, archer, and slaver all ran forward to destroy whatever they could. The sheriff drew his sword and began reciting the chant of giants as they worked. The stones, by some art of the wizards, were extremely durable. The technique that seemed to work best was for two of them to pry up a stone and have the smith smash it in the center. As the first human stone shattered, the sound reminded the smith of smashing through solid ice to fish on the northern lakes. The image was so clear that he could feel the frigid breeze. Gooseflesh rose on his arms when it dawned on the smith that he had never been that far north in his life.

The ki mages were enraged at this destruction and ordered their gates raised. But their men had deserted during the magic battle.

Making himself as heavy as possible, Tashi attacked another human fossil, swinging straight down with all of his mass and momentum. The fossil split but dented his miracle sword in the process. A loud crash came from the garden arch as it collapsed under the weight of centuries. Then another crash sounded from the garden. After a third crash, Tashi deduced they were spaced like footsteps. The sheriff swung again, breaking the third stone and snapping the tip of his blade. While the others were prying up their next target, a giant strode into the rubble of the garden arch.

The fourth stone broke, along with the handle of the smith’s hammer. Tashi handed the smith the remnant of his prize blade and said, “Finish the destruction. I’ll handle our visitor.” Next, the sheriff proceeded to divest himself of all remaining weapons. The three survivors from the Brotherhood stared first at the giant and then at Tashi in undisguised awe. This man knew no fear.

The naked giant was the height of three men. But unlike the delicate, reed-like Imperials, this giant was wide and muscular. The ki mages felt incredible waves of life energy radiating from it, more than either of them could absorb. Both wizards decided that guarding the back of the island where the escape boats were kept might be a better strategy.

When the giant spoke, the soldiers in the courtyard quivered and sank to their knees. “
Who dares call me?
”

As he walked, unarmed, up the stairs toward the inner gardens, Tashi had a chance to appreciate his surroundings for the first time. The ancient architecture was simple but elegant. From this vantage, he saw that the entire island complex had been built in concentric layers around the Garden of Inner Harmony. The quiet gravity at the heart of this island was sacred and had drawn men for centuries, whether they understood it or not.

As the sheriff approached, he noted that the giant had stopped at the collapsed threshold, venturing no further into the realm of man. Was this intentional or did some long-forgotten spell confine the guardian within these walls? The distinction might prove useful if Tashi had to leave this place in haste.

The giant had no visible genitals, although it radiated masculinity. It was also suffused with a soft, golden light. Staring up into the face of the immense guardian, Tashi said firmly, “I am the seeker.”

The giant, bound by traditions older than the temple, nodded and announced, “
A seeker hath offered himself. Doest any of ye present wish to object or offer themselves in his stead?
” The language was archaic and the accent thick, but everyone seemed to understand. Even the crouched lookout seemed convinced that the giant’s eyes were boring straight through him and could read his every thought. No one interfered. “
The supplicant shall follow us to the Seat of Harmony.
”

So saying, both the giant and Tashi vanished into the depths of the garden. As soon as they were out of sight, the slaver said, “It’s a good thing we got his sword, because that poor bastard’s never coming back. But if we’re going to carry that treasure out before the enemy scouts come sniffing around, we’d better get moving.”

Gallatin went whey-faced at the thought of further combat against wizards and their hordes. “I don’t see how only three of us can carry the bell away fast enough. We don’t want to get caught. It’s a monster; there must be thirty years’ worth of coin in that thing.”

“Fifty years,” the smith estimated. While the other men stared up at the bell in avaricious awe, he objected on different grounds. “We can’t leave him behind; we’re his allies.”

“Not anymore. The deal is done. Payment has been made in full on both sides. Our bargain was to get him into this courtyard, go our separate ways in peace, and testify to the guild that he was dead,” Sulandhurka explained.

The smith was not yet ready to concede. “At least we have to finish what we started, the last command he gave in exchange for his blade of honor. If we don’t destroy this wizard tool, it’ll hound our every step. Do you want to die the way that the lieutenant did?”

Gallatin shuddered. The other two continued to hold the large paving stone, the last of the five man-summoners, while the smith chipped away at it with the partial sword like an enraged lumberjack. The smith saw flashes of the desert and a white road leading into the sunset.

As they worked, the sound of the army at the back of the island rose in volume. The lookout climbed down from his perch, waiting to choose sides at the right moment. The bodyguard, far from dead, was still bleeding profusely. The lookout stemmed the flow and tied a makeshift bandage in place. The wounded man seemed to lapse into restful sleep at the act of compassion. The slaver cursed in several languages, telling his strongest man to hurry.

The smith considered this legality and reared back for the mightiest blow he could strike. He swung with all his weight, and shards splintered off into the air. The others dropped the paving stone to shield their eyes. When the back of the stone fell across Gallatin’s bow, the fissure propagated all the way through, and the fossil split. “New money,” said the smith.

His bow broken, Gallatin sighed, “It was fate’s way of telling me to grow grapes again. Just think of the vineyards that bell will buy.” He pointed to the rubble where the arch used to be.

The smith shook his head. “We won’t have time. No amount of money is worth getting killed for.”

Sulandhurka drew his own blade. “On that, laddie, we disagree. For enough money, I’ll risk anything.” The two mercenaries were preparing to battle each other for leadership of the small band when the lookout stepped from the shadows with his arms raised.

The others gave their undivided attention to the only enemy left standing in the compound. “I can get you out of here with your bell if you take me with you as a full partner. The Lady of the Deep will not be pleased when she finds her lover slain and learns that I did nothing to save him. On the other side of the coin, you’ll never make it a league carrying that load unless we go together. I have an idea that may save us all and make us rich.”

The decision took less than three heartbeats. Sulandhurka grinned wolfishly. “You’ll have to join the Brotherhood and be under my command.”

When their new ally agreed, Gallatin said, “He can have the shirt from my uniform.”

“Later,” said the lookout. “The troops will be back here at any moment. You have just enough time to get the bell into that wheelbarrow. I’ll take Lord Kragen’s signet ring. Then, you hide in the garden while I send the scouts out the front gate. Once they’re gone, I’ll lead you to a spirit-proof boat. Next, we row the boat to the port south of here.”

Sulandhurka was already two steps ahead. “Yes, we claim to be messengers from Kragen himself. Then we use his people to escort us safely to the stronghold of the Brotherhood. I like you; what did you say your name was?”

“Bunji,” said the lookout.

The slaver shook his head. “They’ll be looking for a deserter by that name. You must have a new one. How about Hon Li? I’ve been looking for a new lieutenant.”

While this exchange was going on, the smith gathered all the fragments of the Sword of Miracles he could find. As he wrapped the hilt in oilcloth, he noted the number and insignia on the Honor—number one of the Imperial set. This was the legendary Defender of the Realm, the magic blade carried by Emperor Myron’s chief guard! The smith told no one else of his find, smearing the symbol with mud lest anyone else take note. This sword was worth more than the bell, and he was officially its bearer.