Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 (7 page)

“Thank you for that information, Tartag,” said Episk, “The RSCA will be glad to assist in excavating Daludobris once it has been positively located.”

“I will pass that kind offer along to the Council of Elders who will be deciding policy for Hellehoell once it is reestablished,” Tartag answered cautiously. Tol noted the subtle shift in his rhetoric.

They wandered down countless avenues, boulevards, and narrower streets, marveling at the wonderful architecture and expert stonework. Tartag was spiraling them in toward the center of the complex, because that was where Titans historically built their mausoleums, to make it easier for all residents to honor their ancestors. While Tartag did the navigating from the mental map he’d made of what little was known of the complex layout, Tol was viewing the city from a cop’s perspective. He looked down blind alleys, along rows of closely-packed townhomes with connecting balconies, and at isolated mercantile shops on broad avenues with dense residential areas close by and realized that either titans were impeccably honest or they had a substantial crime rate in this city. It was almost designed with larceny in mind: and don’t get him started on all the classic ambush points.

As if on cue a titan voice suddenly rang out: “Stay where you are. Put your hands in the air and keep them there. You are trespassing in the suspended law city of Hellehoell and are under order of confinement.”

Tol looked around and saw bows drawn all around them on rooftops and in windows: a dozen or more. He wished he’d brought along that amulet of proof against missiles that Oloi had given him as a token of friendship, but no such luck. Wait... no such luck...

They had asked Tartag to step forward and explain, giving Tol the chance to whisper into his pocket without attracting too much attention. “Eyejay, are you powered up? This is a bit of an emergency. Can you scan the area around us for other infrared signatures? There are only four in our immediate party.”

There was no response at first, then through bone induction he heard, “I count fifteen other forms, all titans, in a semicircle ranging from eight point four to thirteen point six meters in your forward direction. And I told you not to call me ‘Eyejay.’”

“I have to call you something shorter than ‘PDWA/AI Model 36.’”

“I am, as you might put it, speechless that you actually remember my full designation. Knighthood seems to have changed you for the better, Tol-u-ol. If you must shorten that, how about PeeDee?”

“Great. Petey it is. Next question, Petey: how many of these could I reasonably expect to take out with my disruptor before one of them got me?”

“Ordinarily that would depend on the availability of cover, your personal agility and marksmanship, and the titans’ unknown archery skills, but in this case the point is already conceded, as your disruptor battery is only at three percent of total charge.”

“Smek me! I thought I charged it up on the carriage.”

“You did plug it in on the carriage, but that receptacle was shorted to the carriage frame and inoperable.”

“Why didn’t you alert me? Wait, I know: I didn’t ask, right?”

“Correct. I have been in hibernation mode for almost three months. Did you wish to activate me fully?

” “Yes. I am going to need your help in the near future, I expect.”

“It is good to see that some things are resistant to change. All functions online.”

They were disarmed and the goblins marched to a holding cell a block further on. Tartag was allowed to remain free, but closely watched. In the cell, the other goblins were outraged.

“Under what authority do they purpose to incarcerate officials of His Majesty’s government? A Knight of the Crimson? Unheard of and unacceptable. We must get free from here and report this immediately,” said Koxo.

“I must concur,” agreed Episk, “This is unprecedented and a criminal act.”

“Hang on to your monogramed handkerchiefs, gentlegoblins. While this city is technically underneath lands owned by the King of Tragacanth, the precise provenance of Hellehoell is debateable. If this city existed prior to the establishment of the lands under which it rests as part of the Kingdom of Tragacanth, they may have some claim to Sovereignty, at least until His Majesty makes a formal Proclamation of Annexation, which they can then either ratify or deny. If they deny it, His Majesty may or may not decide to force his claim militarily.”

“I’m impressed, Sir Tol-u-ol,” said Koxo, “You have a broad knowledge of not only police matters, but law and statecraft, as well.”

“I’m a...quick learner, Mr. Nilred.”

No one but Tol could hear Petey laughing maniacally.

Tartag came to visit them often. He had been allowed to explore the entire complex, with a guide, and was quite energized about it. He could picture this as the center of all titan civilization, as it must have been millennia ago before the catastrophe. Tol thought this was a grand idea, as well.

The other goblins were still indignant about their captivity. They wanted to break out, or at least file some sort of formal complaint. Tol reminded them that their mission was a diplomatic one.

“I’m not here for diplomacy; I’m here to secure this area for the RSCA,” said Episk somewhat belligerently.

“I agree. I’m here to assess the structural integrity of this area, which is difficult to do from a cell. We need to find some way out of here.”

“All right, gentlegoblins, allow me to rephrase. I’m the leader of this expedition because I am a career edict enforcement officer with thousands of hours of urban combat experience. I’m also brother to the King of Tragacanth, which means any offensive actions taken against me by the titans will be considered an attack on the Royal Family; the response to those tends to be swift and overwhelming. Just cool your heels; we’ll be released once the titans are certain that our intentions are peaceful and not contrary to the best interests of the titan community. Remember, this little troop is probably all that’s left of a once huge population. They’ve held on to their legacy through famine and sickness and who knows what else just so that one day titan society can once again be whole. I applaud their tenacity and I don’t blame them for treating cautiously with us.”

With that he wandered off into the darkness at the rear of the cell. Petey had told him that the chamber they were in penetrated fairly far, and he wanted to see what was back there. After a few minutes of exploration he came to a heavy wooden door framed by a splendid arch. He expected it to be locked; it wasn’t. He swung the big portal open on hinges that protested their long years of non- use and stepped cautiously inside.

There were rows of niches in both walls, stretching back into the distant gloom. He had found the elusive mausoleum! Examining one of the niches closely, he determined that it did indeed host remains. They had located the evidence they needed to pursue Tartag’s claim.

Tol returned to the others and made his announcement. “So, we can settle down and relax. Sooner or later they’ll release us and we can carry the news back to surface. It won’t make Belbomit very happy, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

Just then a figure shimmered into existence again, but this time it was not Plåk. It made no social overtures whatever.

“Tol: your brother has disappeared.”

“Well met, Oloi! What do mean, ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean he was visiting a dwarven shrine in the center of the Kopyrewt Forest when, in the presence of dozens of witnesses, he suddenly vanished. I’ve checked all the magical and quantum pathways and he has not traveled any of them. This is a wholly new dimensional transport mechanism. In other words, I can’t track him.”

“What measures are being taken?”

“The RPC are ripping the place apart, or trying to. Every time they damage anything it heals itself almost instantly. Ballop’ril is on his way there. I’m heading back now and I think you should come with me.”

Tol stood in thought for a moment. On the one hand, he owed something to these people as the leader of the party. On the other, his brother and Liege-lord was in need of him. There really wasn’t much option.

“Is there any way you can transport my companions to the entrance of the tunnel?”

“How about if I just create a distraction that will draw the titans away and let them make a run for it?”

“That works for me. You gobs in?”

“I’m not certain how well I can run,” said Koxo, “But I’ll give a shot.”

“If we are injured in any way, I will hold you personally responsible,” said Episk.

“Yeah, you do that,” Tol replied, rolling his eyes. “Okay, Oloi, let it rip!”

After a few seconds there was a bright light accompanied by a rumbling noise and crashing sound somewhere in the opposite direction of the entrance. The alarmed titan guards all ran to investigate. Oloi opened the lock and the two other gobs ran for all they were worth toward the surface.

“Do you think they’ll make it out?” Oloi asked.

“They’ll be all right,” replied Tol,“They both can use the exercise, anyway. I am a little worried about Tartag, though. If the other titans think he was somehow involved in this, he might get a lot of grief.”

“Tartag is much more important and powerful than these isolated titans know. He is the last surviving member of his race: the Storm Titans.”

“Storm Titans? I thought those were just mythical figures invented to make little gobs behave: ‘if you don’t eat all of your globeroot soup the storm titans will get you.’ That sort of thing.”

“No, they’re quite real. Or at least they were a millennium past. When the titans dispersed they of all the kin groups fared the most poorly; Tartag is the sole remaining member.”

“What makes a storm titan different from a regular titan?” asked Tol, scratching his chin.

“In appearance, nothing; although they tend to be a bit taller. Contrary to certain folk beliefs that they have no arcane abilities, Titans are in fact creatures of elemental magic, meaning they are able to employ magic naturally, without any study. Each kin group specializes in a different form. The storm titans actually absorb energy from atmospheric disturbances and store it within themselves. When necessary they can channel that energy into feats of almost unbelievable strength and endurance. Since titans respect strength above all other attributes, storm titans were always elected as the leaders of Hellehoell. They are luckier than they can imagine to have one available for the reunification. We must go now.”

Tol walked over and re-locked the cell door. “That might confuse them a little and buy the gobs some more time. All right, let’s blast.”

in which an assassination is narrowly averted

Boogla sat at her desk in the Royal Palace poring over the details of the recently-signed trade agreement with Solemadrina. Every outgoing shipment had been thoroughly inspected before being allowed to depart, as a result of the hanky-panky she had uncovered. Only one ship had failed inspection; it was being held in port in Cladimil until the disposition of its cargo could be decided. Some of it was proscribed military technology, including upgrades and accessories for secret devices and systems, which implied that they already possessed the base units and wanted to increase their utility.

She wondered how long this technology leakage had been going on. She decided to draw up a proposal for increasing the security of programs that produced intellectual property not intended for foreign use. She took a new sheaf of paper from a drawer just as an RPC guard came in.

“Quarter hour check, Your Highness.”

“I am well. Thank you.”

“Acknowledged.”

Since Hobert had recommended an increase in Boogla’s protective detail, RPC were required to check in on her every fifteen minutes around the clock while she was alone, in addition to the heavy perimeter and interior security present in the Palace at all times. She had finally come to terms with being constantly under protection and even found it somewhat reassuring now. She returned to her work and was soon engrossed in it.

The Royal Palace of Tragacanth was an elongated “u”- shape with the throne room and receiving halls located at the center of the bend. The Royal Residence occupied two-thirds of the right-hand wing; offices, conference rooms, and similar spaces filled out the rest of the right-hand and all of the left-hand. There were private underground tunnels connecting the Royal Residence with the most frequently used areas of the remainder of the Palace, as well as nearby buildings. The tunnels had both rail carriages and pedestrian walkways, so the Royal Family had an option for traveling them.

The downside of this convenience was that the tunnel system provided additional difficult-to-secure avenues of access for all locations thusly connected. While the RPC were aware of the vulnerability, the existence and exact mapping of the tunnels was a state secret, known only to those with need for the knowledge. The Royal complex was vast, and the RPC had only so many agents.

When Aspet was in the Palace, Boogla most often ate lunch with him; either in his office or in one of a half-dozen private restaurants scattered around the complex reserved for the Crown, high officers of State, and their guests. When she was alone, however, she preferred a working lunch, brought to her by a member of the Royal Household staff, all of whom were closely vetted by the RPC. Today was no different. She ordered a mixed-greens salad with leggen nut oil dressing and a cup of steaming herbal infusion from the Royal menu. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door.

She waited for the security card to slip into the slot, which would tell her on the view screen next to the door who was knocking. Even the maids had those. She had very specific instructions from the RPC not to open the door without that confirmation. The very highest-echelon RPC agents could open the door from the outside in an emergency with their access cards, but protocol was that they announced themselves this way first if circumstances allowed.

After ten seconds when the automatic confirmation screen had not activated, she walked over the panel beneath it and turned on the camera outside manually. It was blank: either the camera itself was dead, or someone had intentionally blocked it. She wiggled it back and forth; the blurred image did not respond relative to the movement, meaning that it was a static piece of fabric or parchment taped over the lens.