Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (40 page)

Excited, the smith announced, “Listen. I think I found it!” The arrow in his hand made a distinct tick sound when he shoved it into the sand.

“Not too hard, you’ll break it,” complained the prince. “Mark the edges. The rest of you, break out tools.”

The pickax was deemed too dangerous. Only two men had spades. So,wo dug while the smith and Legato used their bare hands to clear away sand. After a few inches, they could see their goal—black stone. Sajika stood at the edge of the hole with her torch while Kasha and Pinetto stood guard. The work was slow and aggravating.

Finally, the smith moved enough sand to squeeze his fingers into the gap below the obsidian slab. He gave a mighty heave and the stone made a sucking sound like a loose tooth being pulled from its socket. The prince grabbed the other side and lifted the treasure free of the ground.

“Let’s go; that monster’s going to be back any beat now,” Pinetto warned.

When Kasha went back to get their rearguard, he came back pale. “Too late. The poet’s dead and the monster has veins and teeth now. It smiled at me as it crawled along the ceiling.”

“Grab the crystal rod,” Pinetto instructed. Kasha did so and came back to the main room, looking queasy. “When Eutheron manifests fully, it can affect her.”

Kasha handed the forearm-sized rod to one of the diggers. “I already have a dagger that works.”

Grunting, the prince and the smith lumbered the heavy stone seat down the tunnel as fast as they could. When they got back to the rails, fresh hands took over and loaded the seat onto a rail car. “Use a bedroll as a cushion,” Legato insisted.

Sajika put her torch into a bracket on the side of the cart and tapped the second digger. “You and I are the only ones without weapons that can hurt it. We’ll push like there’s a demon after us and the rest will cover us.”

The smith helped them push until the car got rolling; those with weapons had to jog to keep up—two sesterina daggers, a handful of Emperor’s Sand, a crystal club, and the Defender of the Realm.

****

At long last, almost exhausted, the surviving team members saw the great cave ahead, the huge, open area where they’d find the elevator to safety.

Just as they left the tunnel, something fell from the ceiling, landing hard on the digger who carried the crystal rod.

Legato hurled the sesterina-plated dagger at the she-devil as hard as he could. She caught the blade mid-air in her bottom-right hand, and threw it back. The prince flattened himself and the dagger flew past him, down the tunnel. The Dawn creature unhinged her jaws to swallow the head of her seventh victim.

“Wait for it. Don’t aim for the face or a quick kill. She’s heavily reinforced. Even if you succeed, she could project a whole new bodyecret is to hold her in an incapacitated body. Even the gods had to trap her,” Pinetto advised, planting his torch in a wall sconce. No one questioned where he was coming up with the new information or terms. Instead, the smith slipped his fire-opal ring on his left pinky in preparation for the coming darkness. The ring’s light seemed dimmer than before.

While the other digger kept pushing the mine car with the final piece of obsidian, Sajika whipped her bolo in a circle. The creature continued swallowing the life essence of the seventh sacrifice. The moment the creature became completely and horribly solid, Pinetto flung the Emperor’s Sand at Eutheron’s eyes, shouting, “Go!”

The beast was momentarily blinded, but could still sense the approach of the blood of a god. Baran Togg swung the miracle blade at her navel. She was fast, but he still connected with the beast’s lower left hand. She lost several fingers in the process. The sound of her pain was like a calf with a plugged nose, amplified a hundredfold. Echoes made dust and debris fall from the ceiling.

The detached fingers bounced and danced like the rune stones had. Tendrils of blood stretched forth, and the digits leapt back into place.

“What in the hells?” squeaked the smith.

The creature had its head back and mouth open in pain as her body reunited. Pinetto lobbed his prized wolf-stone down her open maw. She choked and gagged as she staggered around blindly.

Sajika threw her bolo around the ankles of the beast, and then fled. She’d done everything she could and now needed to help the digger get the heavy stone into the elevator.

Kasha threw himself onto the beast, knocking her to the ground. His dagger couldn’t penetrate the thick, hide armor she wore over her four breasts. As they fell, the she-devil squeezed the knifeman with her right arms until he burbled. But he refused to yield, pinning her to the floor with his bodyweight. In an attempt to free Kasha, Baran stabbed through the inside of her top right arm at the bend. The noise was like a crawfish being peeled.

Meanwhile, the prince grabbed the crystal rod from the floor, held it like a pike, and charged the demon. He crushed her good left hand against the floor before she batted him away like a toy. The newly damaged digits re-inflated, but more slowly than before.

“She has to concentrate to reform!” observed Pinetto. “Keep her confused while Legato pounds the crystal down her throat.”

Legato was about to ask, “What are you going to do?” when the wizard covered her left two arms with his sesterina-wired cloak. She thrashed, dislocating his arm and breaking several of his bones. Then the other two men landed on her chest with a mission.

When she screamed in rage, the prince shoved the crystal rod deep into her mouth. But he couldn’t force it through the back of her head. “Hammer it!” bellowed the prince, struggling to stay on her chest.

As the smith pounded with all his might, the shard moved a finger downward. Perhaps she was just deeper in the dirt. She snapped Kasha’s back in revenge, and cracked Pinetto’s bones. “Alternate,” he sobbed.

So his friend the smith found a rhythm—slash a tendon, pound, stab to distract, pound. Blood billowed out in clouds, but kept coalescing back to Eutheron. At some point, Kasha died, but he’d done his task well. After twenty-one hammer blows, the she-devil was anchored, hamstrung to the dirt. The crystal through her head caused her incredible pain. However, black strands swam toward her sockets and her eyes were almost whole again.

They pried Pinetto free before he followed Kasha’s fate.

“What now?” gasped the smith, almost spent. The prince had claw marks on his arms, and his shirt was in ruins.

Pinetto stood unsteadily and pulled the mirror out of his pocket. “Get the torch,” the wizard wheezed, unable to move his right arm or bend at the waist anymore. His ribs were in agony. When the prince held the torch aloft, the wizard told the beast, “I have a message for you from Kiateros. Look what you’ve become, you villainous hag.”

The moment he held the mirror over her face, she screamed. The volume made all earlier expressions of pain seem like whispers. They could hear nothing else, and the room began to shake. The smith slung his friend over one shoulder and bolted for the exit shaft. Somehow, the prince was a step ahead of them, lighting the way.

Boulders fell from the sky as they galloped back to the elevator.

Sajika was there, waiting for them. She hugged Pinetto wordlessly, but he could only whimper in return. When they were all in the conveyance, the smith banged on the cable, and the people at the top started cranking the wheels at top speed.

Only Sajika could hear the howls of mourning as the elevator car made the long, slow ride up. She clamped onto the wizard’s uninjured arm and chanted pleas to any diety who would listen.

When they reached the top, the prince shouted, “Everyone: show me your pieces! I need to count them.” When he was certain they had all the parts he came for, Legato ordered, “Cut the lines on the dumbwaiter. Fill the hole with rocks. Cover the rocks with cheese. And get my throne the hells out of here!”

When the one man asked him how to wrap the obsidian, Legato shouted, “Ask me when I can hear!”

****

The survivors hightailed it out of the mine. They were a day northwest, on the way toward the pass to Kiateros, when the regularly scheduled supply train arrived. They assessed the situation and dispatched a messenger bird to the emperor, explaining the headless massacre.

According to the count in the log book, there was still one man missing. The next morning, the leader of the Imperial supply team said the stupidest thing possible: “Get that mine shaft cleared out and see if there’s anyone trapped inside.”

The emperor had a welcome ceremony when his right-hand man, Vinspar, returned from the battle of the Vale. At the wharf, there were several women and children waiting for their l
oved ones to disembark. While he waited, Sandarac opened his palanquin and waved to the people. “He’s here to greet them,” the crowds whispered.

The troops returning on this ship were only doing so because they could no longer fight. Many had to be carried off. They were a catalogue of missing parts and injuries. Sandarac put on a face of compassion and shook the hand of every officer who approached him. “Your sacrifice is not in vain. Bablios is retreating and Zanzibos is over half ours,” he encouraged.

Vinspar was the last off the ship. The band had long since stopped playing. The Imperial member of the council had a large bandage over his right ear. His face was looking gray and pallid, but his uniform was without a crease or stain.

“Are you well?” the emperor asked his confidant as he sat on the palanquin.

“I lost the ear cleanly. I could’ve continued fighting if it weren’t for the infection. I’m dizzy, but otherwise fit,” Vinspar answered. “I never want to see mud again.”

“What can I do as thanks?” asked the emperor.

Vinspar cocked an eyebrow. “For failure?”

“You did the best you could. ‘Twas the Gardener who failed and the fog that led us into disaster for one battle. The war can still go our way.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Sandarac?”

The emperor chuckled. “I am a man poised on the precipice of greatness. I can’t afford to waste my best people in petty blame-casting.”

“This new woman tempers you.”

The emperor winced. “Yes. Sorry about that. I had to make the deal quickly. Her dowry was the Inner Sea and most of Zanzibos.”

“Indeed, I like her more with every passing beat.” Vinspar sighed. “I miss the islands. I’d like nothing more than to retire there.”

“If I promise to discuss the invasion of the College of Wizards this afternoon in the Council meeting, will you sit beside me at the wedding tomorrow, in the place of my father?”

“No, she had him eaten alive, tongue first, in front of a few hundred witnesses at my wedding feast,” explained the emperor, as if talking about a stray dog hit by a wagon.

At the Council meeting, Sandarac introduced their new intelligence chief, new sergeant-at-arms, and his bride-to-be. Vinspar kissed Humi’s ring.

“I have heard much of your wisdom,” said the empress-to-be.

“My wisdom tells me that we must reinforce the city of Semenea and break the enemy,” Vinspar replied.

Urgot and three aides sat in the room as well. The fire mage with the melted face complained, “Everyone wants troops for their projects. We only have a thousand guarding Reneau.”

“A thousand
regulars
,” said Navara. “We have the Temple of the Dragon civilian patrol, our veterans, and hundreds of private guards from the provinces for those attending the wedding. There were also numerous Intaglian troops freed up by the treaty with Barnham.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” said the emperor. “We’ll send half the available troops, seventy hands, to reinforce King Renard’s walls immediately. Take them up the river all the way to Semenea. Strike the enemy hard and by surprise. Sail at dawn tomorrow.”

Navarra acted as scribe. “And the others?”

“Send a hand of men with Governor Onira. He leaves directly after the wedding tomorrow,” commanded the emperor. “That will present a united front and keep him honest.”