Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 (29 page)

No sooner had Sam sat down than the food arrived. Three large birds—turkeys Sam guessed—bowls of some type of stew, and three large loaves of bread were brought and deposited on the table. The barmaids dropped off the food, along with mugs of some type of alcoholic beverage and a pitcher of water without stopping, appearing simply to be in one place one second and then in another the next. Sam was impressed.

He was also impressed with the food. After eating nothing but travel rations in the last few weeks, he dug in with fervor and before he knew it, he was pleasantly full, leaning back against the wall toward which the table was situated. His first priority fulfilled, he took the time to scan the room and to listen to little snatches of conversation.

“…I tell you, Horis, it’s bad. He’s taking over towns and villages, one by one. The cities are next. There’s no stopping…” the deep voice intoned.

“…and the soldiers just went in and took over…” another voice explained to her companion before being drowned out by other sounds.

“…and if something is not done about the Gray Man, we’ll all be in danger.” This from a thin man sitting at the next table. Sam watched the man’s mouth and focused on what he was saying, trying to pick it out of the general tumult.

“He is spreading south, taking control of all the towns and villages as he goes, installing his own people. Those who deny him access, well, he sends soldiers in and forcibly takes control, killing many of the citizens as an example.”

Sam looked to Dr. Walt, noticing the old man also listening intently to the gossip flying about the room. “Oh my,” he said. “We must hurry. We’re running out of time. Perhaps it would be best to avoid towns and villages if possible as we head to our destination.”

The party agreed. Finishing up their dinner—Sam took a whole loaf of bread and another partial one with him for Skitter—they went to their own respective rooms: Sam to his, Rindu and Dr. Walt to another, and Nalia to the third. They had agreed to leave early, after buying more supplies. They would try to keep from being noticed, get their supplies, and leave as quickly and quietly as possible.

Skitter curled up next to him on the bed. He thought of the Gray Man’s actions and hoped they didn’t get caught up in it. He still hoped that he would find a way to get home without having to confront the villain, though he knew the chance of that was small. He was too tired to climb out of bed and get into his normal cross-legged position, so he meditated lying down, trying to duplicate his travel to his world, but fell asleep while trying.

Sam’s sleep was relatively untroubled and he woke in the morning feeling more refreshed than he could remember since he arrived in Gythe. Without training the night before, however, he felt as if he needed to do something to exercise. There was nothing for it, though. His room was too small to do anything complex and he couldn’t very well ask Nalia to spar in the middle of a city. He did some quick calisthenics, washed his face in the bowl provided, and headed downstairs.

After a quick breakfast and a trip to the provisioner—Sam spotted the blue door this time before they reached it—the party set off from the North side, opposite from the way they had come in. They shouldered the supplies they purchased until they met up with the rakkeben, loaded up the supplies, and were on their way once again.

30

Eight days later, the party arrived at Tramgadal. Sam had started seeing the enormous mountain above it two days before and had anticipated getting to its base. On Telani, it was called Mount Shasta, but here, the mountain was Kokitura, the home of the Zouyim and the location of their main temple. Rather, it
had
been the home of the Zouyim. The order was all but destroyed by the Gray Man eight years before.

The mountain was just as jagged and majestic as when he had seen it on Telani. It was hard to believe that the Zouyim traveled up and down the stone monster without the aid of motorized vehicles. Even in late summer, light danced off the cap of snow on the mountain, making it look even more intimidating. No matter how high Sam focused his gaze, the mountain dominated his vision.

Tramgadal, the doorway to the Zouyim temple and the mountain proper, was an outpost. An abandoned outpost. The buildings, dilapidated and uninhabited, were deteriorating and a metaphor for the order itself. Sam felt as if his chest was being compressed as he dropped his gaze and sighed.

He looked from the center of Tramgadal up the path that wound up the mountain face, wishing they had time to go see what was left of the temple. Rindu had told him that the peak of Kokitura was a place of concentrated power and Sam would have liked to have gone. Sadly, they didn’t have the time. Climbing the mountain only to come back down before continuing on with their journey would take many precious hours they could not afford to squander.

“After we are successful, perhaps you will have time to visit it with me and I can show you that, even now, there are more glorious things here than just the ruined structures of the temple,” Rindu said, looking toward the peak with a faraway look in his eyes. Sam could see the longing and the sadness there.

“That would be nice,” Sam said, knowing as he said it that it would never happen. They would either all die trying to defeat the Gray Man or they would succeed and he would leave immediately to get back to his world and his mother. He took one more long look at the mountain peak before dismounting.

Sam was erecting his tent when a man suddenly charged at them from behind one of the buildings. Screaming incoherently, he jumped toward Rindu, who was closest to him.

The man, emaciated and haggard, wore torn robes that appeared to have once been the same color as those Rindu wore. His deeply etched face was lopsided and filled with rage as he flew through the air toward the Zouy, executing a flying kick with perfect form, long white hair flying behind him as if it was chasing him.

Rindu simply stepped a half step to the side and touched the man’s lead leg as he passed, somehow spinning the attacker so that he windmilled through the air. Sam was almost afraid to see what would happen to the man, but his fears were not realized. Somehow, impossibly, the man righted himself in mid-air, performed a lazy somersault with a half twist, and landed lightly on his bare feet on the hard-packed road that bisected the outpost.

Again, he screamed and charged, attacking Rindu with lightning fast kicks and punches, as well as different types of open hand strikes. He was so fast, Sam could barely track the man’s limbs as he struck at Rindu.

Rindu, for his part, moved even faster, blocking with his hands, elbows, knees, and feet. One particularly complex barrage was blocked aside by kicks, the Zouy kicking so fast that he turned aside three punches and a kick before his foot settled on the ground again. The monk was saying something to the man, but Sam couldn’t hear what it was. Why was he not attacking? Why was he only defending? That went against everything he and Nalia had ever taught Sam. “Once you are committed, end the combat as quickly and efficiently as you can,” they had told Sam.

Finally, Rindu yelled: “Torim Jet! Desist!” as he waved his hand in the direction of the crazed man. It was like a tidal wave had hit him. He was swept off his feet and violently thrown with invisible force until he crashed against the side of one of the buildings, making the entire structure wobble precariously. The man slid down the wall and slumped for a moment.

Then, shaking his head to clear it, he looked at Rindu. “Rindu? Rindu Zose? Is that you, my brother?”

“It is. How fare you, brother Torim?”

The man got to his feet and sheepishly shuffled forward to within two feet of Rindu. “Oh, my brother! My brother! It is good to see you. I did not know anyone else survived. I am sorry for my…attacking you. I have not been myself lately.” He closed the gap and enfolded Rindu in hug.

After introductions, the party sat around a fire Sam had built. Sam looked the man over more carefully as he chatted with Rindu and Nalia. He was of a height with Rindu, but much frailer looking, no doubt because of lack of food. His face, now that it was calm, was still awkward, as if the halves were made from two different people. It had the look of a poorly designed mask to Sam. He was easily the ugliest man Sam had ever seen. But now that he was sane, Sam found in him the same calm power that Rindu radiated, and that drew Sam to him. He edged closer to listen.

“I have not seen you in years. I know not about the others. The Gray Man began sending his assassins and soldiers after them and I do not know who survives yet. I have been living here in the ruins of Tramgadal and of the temple itself, assuming that the Gray Man’s forces would not look for me here. It has worked, to a limited degree, but it is a lonely existence. At times, with only myself to talk to, fearing to interact with others lest they report me, I feel that I am going insane.”

He put his head in his hands. “I defeated a patrol not two weeks past and I thought your group to be more of the Gray Man’s minions. They had members dressed like Zouy to gain an advantage over me, but I prevailed. I am so tired, my brother. So tired.”

Rindu put a hand on Torim’s shoulder. “I know. We are on a mission to depose the Gray Man, to stop him from furthering his murderous cause. You may join us, if you wish.”

The man looked stunned for a moment, staring into Rindu’s eyes. He began to mutter softly to himself and shake his head back and forth. Finally, he settled down and said: “No. I am afraid with what I have seen and what I have done, I will progress further into the darkness if I join your quest. Even now, I feel my balance has shifted toward the darker side of human nature. I am afraid if I battle to the Gray Man’s hold, I will lose what I have left of myself and then I will be lost forever.

“No, I will stay here and try to prevent any further defiling of the temple. When you return victorious, perhaps we can put together again the scattered fragments of our order. Perhaps we can keep the Zouyim from going off into obscurity and extinction.”

Rindu looked at his fellow monk, maybe only other surviving Zouy. “I understand. Please, eat with us and pass the time in association with us. It would be my honor to meditate and perform the
kori rohw
with you again. It would do us both good, I think.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Torim said. “You do me great honor, and great kindness. Thank you.”

With a light meal in their bellies and some more conversation behind them, Rindu and Torim went off into a cleared area near the center of the outpost. There, they began to flow into movements, perfectly in synch, that seemed more dance than anything else. As they moved, seeming never to touch the ground, he saw whorls of energy faintly glowing, swirling around the monks. Sam watched them for ten minutes, amazed at the beauty of the forms and feeling a tugging of his
rohw
, making him want to join them. He would have to ask Rindu about teaching it to him later.

Suddenly aware of a presence right next to him, he looked to his right and saw Nalia standing there. “The
kori rohw
,” she said. “
rohw
forms, literally meaning ‘
rohw
play’ in Old Kasmali. These movements align the body with the universal
rohw
and help not only to take in energy from the surroundings, but also to cause the body and the personal
rohw
to become balanced with all other things. It is beautiful, is it not?”

“Yes, very. They are both masters. That’s clear.”

“True. My father is an untapped well. Still he can do things that surprise me. I do not believe I will ever be as good as he is, in any respect.”

Sam looked at her. “This place is amazing. This world. Gythe. I wish things were different and I could learn about it without being in danger and without having to worry about getting back to my mother. I think there is a lot here that I could love.”

“Perhaps you could tell me something of your world and its wonders, its beauty.”

“I would like that.”

They both stood, looking at what might have been the last two Zouyim monks alive. Nalia suddenly laughed, startling Sam.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was thinking of what things were really important, how we must choose. Things may seem important until compared with something else. When I was with the Sapsyra, many of my sisters had designs to trap Torim in marriage. He was known far and wide as the most handsome man for a thousand miles, and a Zouyim as well. Many sisters mooned over him. He is worn and of low spirits, but still he is handsome. But what is attractiveness when the very life of the world is at stake?”

Sam looked at her from the corner of his eye and listened carefully for any sign of irony, but he finally decided that she was serious. Shaking his head, he headed back toward the fire with her, spending the time until he went to bed talking softly with her and with Dr. Walt. Tomorrow, they would be one day closer to the Gray Fortress and he still had so much to learn.

31

Ix walked slowly toward the Gray Man’s study. She was not going to enjoy this, she thought. She had seen the Gray Man kill for much less than failing on a mission of this importance. Still, it was better to explain herself and get it out of the way. If he wanted to kill her for her failure, he would hunt her down if she avoided him. He was a mystery. He did not believe in wasting life without purpose, but who could guess at his purposes. Perhaps this failure would be sufficient for him to kill her. It mattered little to her. Death did not frighten her.