Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (54 page)

“Anna, the master brewer,” she said meekly. He reminded her of the smith brothers in many ways. “And you are?”

“A humble historian. I have recently been renamed Pagaose.”

The skylight hummed again and a white sword dropped through. The man caught it with ease. “Thanks,” he said to the ceiling. “It wouldn’t do to forget this.”

Only glancing at the pommel did Anna notice the number of fingers on the newcomer’s hand—six. The other matched. She knelt awkwardly on one knee. The sword was still ringing in his hand.

Some of the drunks were stirring, puzzled by the commotion.

“Anna, you don’t need to bow to me; you’ll tear your nice dress,” he whispered.

Sliding the necklace over her head, refusing to look him in the eyes, she handed him the Togg rubies. He accepted them, seeming to realize the import of her offer. But as he pulled them over his own head, the stones melted. He now had three red teardrops tattooed on his forehead.

In her best ‘closing time’ bellow, Anna proclaimed, “All hail Emperor Pagaose!”

People, drawn by the rising sound of the blade, gathered and stared at the man standing under the corona of light blazing from the sky. Pagaose lifted the One True Sword toward the Door and the feedback brought everyone still standing to their knees.

The stories around the coronation event were many and exaggerated. Everyone on the islands claimed to have been there when the new emperor appeared. All agree that as his first official act, he lowered the sword to the brewer’s shoulder. “Rise, Lady Anna, founder of House Brewer, family of the first tier.”

He was able to dampen the awful noise of the sword to a dull hum by lowering the sword and stepping away from the light. Realizing his mistake, Pagose detached the tuning fork from the hilt. After helping Anna up, he handed her the sesterina tuning fork with the leather thong attached. “Not much as necklaces go, but would you hold onto this for me?”

Later, playwrights and composers made this into a long betrothal soliloquy.

As his second decree, Pagose announced, “Send for members of all the royal houses, including Legato, the new king of Kiateros. Gather them in. I would include all in my council. Tell the House of Serog the Dragoness that they and their heirs will also occupy the first tier and have a place on my council. The wrongs of the past are forgotten. The world is waking from history.”

When the buzz subsided, he said, “Invite Sarajah the Seeress from Mud Springs and her bodyguard Tashi if they still live. Send forth the fastest ships to spread the word.”

Pinetto’s troops crossed the bridge. The remaining archers crouched behind the buttresses to get the best view of the enemy while keeping covered. The other men hid in the rushes to avoid the fireballs. Pinetto stood in the middle of the easternmost plank
of the bridge, in plain sight. He etched a protective triangle around himself and used his newfound power to charge it. Invisible Dawn creatures stood to each side of him. “Listen up. This is the border; my magic is the strongest here. I’m going to draw their fire and hopefully deflect both arrows and magic. Each team, spot your mage and take him out. I don’t know how much abuse my shields can take. Once their wizards are dead, the rest of you form up ranks in front of me, four abreast.”

“I’ll take point,” announced Baran Togg, unsheathing his god-forged sword.

“Right,” Pinetto said, sweating. “The archers and I will keep sniping at the enemy’s back ranks. Our allies will push them off the bridge, just like we practiced before.”

“And when we see barrels?” asked the smith.

“Run like hell is on your heels. The spirits and I will guard your rear for as long as we can.” The smith bumped fists with his skinny friend. “But drop your packs now and lighten your load.”

“You heard him, shit now if you have to!” bellowed the smith. Pinetto winced. “What? This is great. You wouldn’t get this excitement sitting in a classroom or even at court. We’re going to be heroes.”

Sarajah caught up with the prince. Legato’s progress had been stopped, mere yards from the border, by a landslide blocking the wagon. Simon was using a block and tackle to move huge boulders out of their way. Brent and Owl were already there helping. But repositioning each rock took ten beats.

“This is going to take all day,” Ambassador Sajika complained.

“Clearing away the avalanche is tricky. If we move too fast, more might slide down,” the architect reasoned. “I have to build a reinforcing wall as we go.”

“Our troops are going to die while we shovel!” Sajika insisted. “And then the fire mages are going to come after us.”

“Why not just carry the throne across the border?” asked the seeress. “Hell, you have enough men over there that you could take the wagon apart and carry it over, too.”

Recognizing her voice and clothing, Brent said, “Speaking as a lawyer, she is the high priestess of a kingdom, chosen by the god Archanos himself.”

“Author of the holy tome, champion of the oppressed, blah, blah, blah . . .” the seeress said, waving her hand. “My boyfriend and I are the ones who sabotaged those ballistae for you. So you’d better be nice to me today.”

“Or what?” the prince challenged.

She held his crown over the river. “Or I send this as the signal instead. Move! Does a god have to come kick you in the pants again?”

“I like her,” said the ambassador.

The architect crafted a palanquin out of the mining beams, and twenty northern smiths were called over the border. “I need men of the same height.”

Together, they crossed the border to the shores of the enormous Kiateran lake. His followers gathered around Legato to admire the restored throne. “Now how do we get it to the capital?”

Sarajah rolled her eyes. “Duh? A boat! Do I have to think of everything? Hurry up and throw the barrels in. Men are dying while you dither.”

Sajika didn’t wait for the order, but ran back to the wagon. She cut the ropes and rolled the first empty keg into the water on her own.

“Congratulations,” the green-eyed priestess said. “By the power invested in me by two gods, I name you King Legato.” Placing the crown on his head, she kissed him on each cheek.

When Pinetto saw the enemy’s front lines, he waved the flag of parley to delay. A single man strode over to discuss the situation, Lieutenant Camembert. Eyes sparkling silver, the wizard said to the Intaglian, “We’ve all lost too many men. Even the temple has been overrun. Why don’t we all take the rest of this day and honor our dead.”

Camembert seemed shaken but persisted. “Intaglios and Semenos are sworn allies. This is the Friendship Bridge. As an Imperial, you owe your allegiance to Emperor Sandarac. Step aside and you and the Semenosians can live.”

“What about the Kiaterans?”

“We need slaves to haul our equipment and clear the roads.”

Pinetto searched the river and the sky for any sign of rescue. Deciding there would be none, he shouted, “After we kill you, we’re going to tie rocks to your bodies and sink them in the lake. Then we’re going to catch the fish that eat your flesh and feed them to the lepers of Jerack Bay.” Denial of proper cremation was the most severe insult he could come up with.

The lieutenant trembled with rage and shouted to his compatriots, “No prisoners.”

The dog-headed man knocked him off the bridge into the rapids, and then materialized for all to see.

Not two, but five fireballs arced toward them. Pinetto gestured, and the two aimed at him skittered off the protective triangle. The three aimed at the dog, however, sent him into the river to put out the flames. Though the panther claimed it hadn’t been fatal, the dog didn’t resurface.

Eight archers replied, but only one fire mage died. Four more balls launched at Pinetto. “Keep firing!” he ordered his archers, charging his wards till they shimmered in the air.

Two fiery projectiles missed, one exploded in midair against the shields, and the final one bounced against the wooden bridge. The planks caught fire, the smoke obscuring the defenders from view. The already loosed arrows claimed two fire mages this time. Pinetto’s last sight was of enemy troops covering the remaining wizards with an umbrella of shields. “Thank the gods they can’t lob any more.”

Then they heard the roar of a hundred offended soldiers charging the bridge. Only a hand stayed behind to guard the wizards.

“Form a protective wedge!” the smith shouted to the swordsmen, as the archers shot as fast as they could into the horde. Fortunately, they had the full quivers from the dead bowmen. No one would run out soon.

Just before the armies clashed, a giant, winged form swooped from the sky and dropped something man-sized onto the fire mages’ shield umbrella. The impact stunned two men. Before they realized he wasn’t a rock, Tashi scooped up a sword and shouted, “Second battalion, advance!” He skewered an enemy mage with his first thrust.

The charge halted as the Intaglians searched for other attackers. That was all Bagierog and his armadillo friend needed. The panther leapt into the center of the fourth row and knocked men over with abandon. The armadillo snuck in at knee level and flipped three men off the structure before anyone knew what was happening.

Then Baran led his swordsmen into the fray. He bellowed curses against the enemies of Kiateros, the sword thirsting for revenge. No one ld touch him, but Kiaterans fell just as often as Intaglians on the front line. The flames were extinguished by bodies and pools of blood. The second eagle dropped a headless form on the back row to prevent men from swarming Tashi.

The Intaglians at the rear of the column pushed forward and the men at the front pushed back. People slipped off the edge or were crushed in the confusion.

The last living fire mage detonated his staff in an attempt to eliminate the half-troll killing machine. Tashi covered his head with his arms and dove. Only the honor guard died; however, the ex-sheriff lost considerable hair and part of his shirt putting out the flames.

Tashi bowled into the troops from behind like he did on the parapet. Minutes later, he was scorched, scratched in a dozen places, and grinning like a fool. The troll stood back-to-back with him, tossing men like rag dolls. The eagles dropped still-living men on their comrades from above. At one point, the troll shouted, “Down in front!”

Tashi dropped to one knee, presenting his own rocky back as a ramp. The troll leapt off him, soaring onto the heads of unsuspecting enemy soldiers. “New money,” Tashi exclaimed, watching the chaos.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” the smith mumbled. “Looks like I made the right choice about which side to be on.” But the man next to him sprouted arrow shafts before he could reply. Baran Togg had traveled too far from Pinetto and the cover of smoke. The enemy archers peppered his group, scoring most of the swordsmen, and forcing the smith to retreat. One arrow took him through the skin of the armpit while a second tore a shallow wound through his side. The archers might have split the difference and hit the heart on the third try. However, a white bolo streaked out of the hazy battle, wrapped around the center archer, and erupted in a flash of blinding light.

There were only twelve Kiateran men standing when the farsighted Imperial wizard saw the barrels. There were still over fifty of the enemy. Taking his last spear, Pinetto stopped powering his arrow shield and put everything into the shaft. Chucking it into the lead Intaglian, he caused the man to explode.