9: The Iron Temple (17 page)

John reached out and placed his hands on the gates. Bullets stung at him like insects. Arrows impaled his flesh, but he hardly cared now. He pushed his fingers into the thin crevice between the gate and fortress wall. He felt hard black iron and heavy machinery and then he wrenched the gate open. The engines that powered the gates screeched as their braking locks snapped apart. Pistons cracked, pipes burst, and hot oil gushed free. The gates trembled and then cracked and fell. Men plummeted to the ground as the walls shuddered with the impact of the massive gates.

John charged ahead, splitting walls and ripping open city gates. Behind him he felt the heat of oil fires surging up over the rubble. Through the thunder and pelting rain, he heard the screams of dying men, but he didn’t look back. He swore at the miles of stone that blocked his path, and in frustration, he wrenched open the entire third terrace of the fortress.

Massive shocks rocked the entire fortress. The higher terraces shuddered. Stones plummeted down from the walls. Ravishan was up there. John couldn’t let the higher terraces collapse. He forced his will into the structure of their stone and iron supports. As he charged forward, riding violent winds, he strengthened the distant towers and walled streets against the assault of his own passage.

He vaulted up from a crumbling walkway and the wind lifted him to the next terrace. The gaun’im’s forces hadn’t reached this high in Vundomu yet. The kahlirash’im’s banners still hung from the walls. The narrow lanes seemed abandoned. John threw himself into the wind and rose up again and again, cracking stones wherever he landed, collapsing walls, but always protecting the central column of Vundomu from the fury of flames and lightning. At last, John reached the heights of Vundomu. Below him, fires raged and black smoke billowed up into the churning storm clouds.

 John heard the shriek of the Gray Space. An arc of flame seared up through the dark sky. John bounded over iron-tiled walls and landed in a courtyard. Bodies of kahlirash’im and ushiri’im littered the courtyard. At the far end of the courtyard a circle of some thirty kahlirash’im stood in front of the black-tiled mass of the Temple of the Rifter. Some held rifles ready; others were armed with only swords.

Another arc of flame shot up and two ushiri’im burst from the Gray Space. Instantly Ravishan exploded out of nowhere. He drove a Silence Knife into one of the ushiri’im. Then the second ushiri plunged his curse blade into Ravishan’s back. The kahlirash’im opened fire on the ushiri, but he escaped back into the Gray Space. Ravishan turned and dived into the Gray Space after him.

John felt his heart clench and a geyser of rage tore through him.

Three more ushiri’im surged out of the Gray Space. The kahlirash’im fired on them, but John was already charging into them. He caught two of them and simply burned through their bodies with his bare hands. The third ushiri he grasped by the throat and slammed into the wall of the temple. The man’s head dropped to John’s feet as his body crumpled against the black tiles of the temple.

The kahlirash’im stared at John wide eyed. Three of them dropped to their knees. John hardly saw them.

All he could think of was Ravishan, lost and dying somewhere in the Gray Space. He felt the wavering distortions of ushiri’im all around him. He reached for the closest, pulling the man’s body free of the Gray Space. He wasn’t Ravishan. John crushed the ushiri’s throat and hurled him aside. He tore one ushiri after another from the Gray Space. They impaled him, shot him, and drove Silence Knives into his flesh, but John felt none of it. He crushed them and continued his desperate search.

He felt the ushiri’im disappearing, fleeing deeper into the Gray Space where he could no longer sense them. At last only one faint distortion remained. John plunged his hands through the Gray Space. Sick revulsion washed over him, but he caught hold of an arm. He ripped Ravishan out of the Gray Space. The decapitated body of an ushiri fell out with him. Ravishan was limp in John’s arms. The hilt of a black curse blade jutted from just below his right shoulder blade. The urge to pull it out of Ravishan’s flesh flickered through John, but he didn’t trust himself to even touch the knife. Blood welled from the wound and pooled around John’s fingers.

“Jahn,” Ravishan whispered, but he said nothing more.

He felt like ice in John’s arms and his skin didn’t grow warmer. Even his blood seemed cold.

Lightning hammered the walls of Vundomu. The storm howled. John fought to suppress his horror and loss. He could still feel Ravishan’s pulse.

John looked to the kahlirash’im who knelt in front of the temple.

“I need a healer! Now!” John shouted over the raging storm.

There was only the briefest pause and then they all bolted back into the temple. John carefully lifted Ravishan and carried him into the shelter of the temple. Inside there were hundreds of other people, not just kahlirash’im, but workmen and women. There were even a few children. All of them stared in silence as John passed them. Most of them dropped to their knees. John wanted to tell them to stop, but he didn’t have the time.

“Our healer is here, my most holy lord.” A kahlirash held the door to a makeshift infirmary open for John.

As he carried Ravishan through, John realized that the kahlirash addressing him was Wah’roa. Blood and soot caked his face and body.

“Thank you, Wah’roa,” John said.

For an instant Wah’roa appeared startled at hearing his own name, but then an expression like happiness lit his bloodied face and he bowed down to the floor.

The old priest in the infirmary watched John with wide eyes. John gently laid Ravishan down on one of only two empty cots. All around the bleeding, ruined bodies of men lay shrouded beneath bandages and sheets.

“Save him,” John told the priest.

The old priest stared at the hilt of the curse blade jutting from Ravishan’s back. He dropped to his knees.

“Please forgive me, most holy lord, but I cannot bear his wound—”

“Get off the fucking floor!” John snapped. Ravishan was dying. He didn’t have time for groveling.

“My lord, I cannot—”

“I’ll bear the wound,” John said. “I’ll bear every damn wound in this room! Just save him.”

Slowly, the priest rose to his feet.

“I will do all I can, my most holy lord.”

To Be Continued...

Characters appearing in Arc Six

Arren— Head of fighter’s district in the Warren.

Ashan’ahma – An ushiri studying at Rathal’pesha.

Alidas—A rider for the Bousim family; partly crippled.

Amha’in’Bousim–Lady Bousim, 3rd wife, exiled to the north.

Bil—Called Behr in Basawar.

Daru— Fai’daum priest.

Eriki’yu— Boy in the Fai’daum Warren.

Fenn— Fai’daum fighter recently drafted from the stables.

Fikiri Bousim–An ushiri: son of Lady Bousim.

Gin’yu— Fai’daum Scout Captain.

Giryyn—Fai’daum priest.

Hann’yu–An ushman exiled to the north: specializes in healing.

Issusha’im–The Payshmura oracles.

Ji Shir’korud—Dog demon; one of the Fai’daum.

John—Called Jahn , later Jath’ibaye.

Kansa—Faidaum witch in training.

Lam— Fai’daum priest.

Lafi’shir— Fai’daum Ground Commander.

Laurie—Called Loshai in Basawar.

Lyyn— Craftsman in the Fai’daum Warren.

Nivoun Bousim— Governor of the Bousim’s northern holdings.

Parfir—The earth god.

Rifter—The destroyer incarnation of Parfir.

Ravishan—The most promising of the ushiri at Rathal’pesha.

Rousma—Ravishan’s sister.

Sabir—The leader of Fai’daum.

Saimura—Ji’s son.

Serahn—Powerful Ushman in the Black Tower of Nurjima.

Sheb’yu— Fai’daum fighter and spy.

Tai’yu–Fai’daum fighter.

Tanash — Fai’daum witch in training.

Wah’roa—Leader of the kahlirash’im at Vundomu.

Common Terms and Words