Temple of the Traveler: Book 01 - Doors to Eternity (11 page)

The gate complex was a small village in its own right. While his two companions fought, Tashi clambered into the protected enclosure beyond. The enclosure was an open square, framed on all sides by barracks and other mundane living areas. The eaves of the buildings stretched outward to provide cover from assaults by the elements or soldiers. Only the perimeter and the central roadway through the compound were paved; everyplace else was covered by patchy grass where chickens, goats, and a single cow grazed.

As the sheriff took in his surroundings, six soldiers and the wind wizard stormed into the commons. The soldiers fanned out to intervene between their employer and the attackers. “Kill him and hold the breach until I get help,” ordered the wizard Tumberlin.

“Run, you fat coward,” muttered one of the defenders.

Babu and the smith appeared behind Tashi as the conjurer ran for the wooden pier. The sheriff faced the crowd boldly and proclaimed, “Surrender now, in the name of the Traveler whose temple you defile, or face judgment as highway robbers.”

The thugs advanced, feeling confident in their two-to-one odds. They reevaluated when they saw Tashi cut a hole in their line before the defenders could raise their blades. He sliced the throat of one man and gutted the second on his backswing. Tashi told his allies, “Take care of the rest of them while I catch that spell caster.” Tumberlin had the swiftness of fear, no armor or weapons to encumber him, and a good ten-beat head start in the race. Nobody went after the pair.

Babu, who had been quite nervous about their chances until this display of prowess, said, “If you surrender now, before the main force arrives, we’ll tell them how hard you fought. We might even give you a share of the loot from the towers as compensation for your lost jobs.”

The thugs muttered among themselves tentatively. Most felt no allegiance to the magicians because their pay was already over a week late. Furthermore, the wizard they had contracted to protect was sick and no longer in the battle. Only one guard, the watch commander, needed convincing. He started to make a speech about loyalty to Lord Kragen when, suddenly, he experienced troubles breathing and collapsed on the paving stones. Still wet from his swim, Sulandhurka walked up behind the defenders and reclaimed his throwing dagger. The odds weow even at three on each side, and the home team hadn’t scored yet. “New money,” said one of the three guards, laying down his weapon for the promise of life and treasure.

The team of executioners had successfully taken the first obstacle and now held the mainland side.

The slaver whistled and two more splashes hit the bay. The last couple members of the Brotherhood would be joining them soon. While the grunts discussed how to divide up the livestock, Sulandhurka asked, “Where’s the optimist?”

The mercenary leader knotted his fists and raised them to the sky. “Why me? Babu, guard these prisoners till the archers arrive.” To the smith, he said, “You, come with me and move!” The slaver hated running and devised excruciating punishments for targets who forced him to exert himself physically.

****

Huffing and puffing across the wooden planks, Tumberlin could already hear the footfalls of his pursuer. Lackeys were winching up the final twenty feet of bridge when the wizard reached the safety of the island and continued running into the courtyard of the Mandala. Seeing the drawbridge reach the height of a man, the defenders began to relax. But Tashi was relentless. Leaping the distance forward and upward, he caught the top edge of the moving structure with his abdomen. Holding himself atop it with his left elbow, the sheriff sliced through the right-hand rope to stop the ascent before it closed.

As Tashi struggled to climb into position for another good swing, the long-neglected, left rope strained under the extra weight and snapped of its own accord. The drawbridge slammed back to the horizontal position, and the impact knocked the wind out of Tashi. For a moment he lay helpless. Fortunately, nobody took advantage of his vulnerability because something happening in the courtyard had thrown the defenders into confusion.

The Executioners thundered across the bridge for several seconds before they, too, stopped in their tracks. When Tashi could finally breathe, he rolled over. Thanks to his supreme effort, everyone had an unobstructed view of the magic maelstrom now building on the shore.

Lord Kragen had been in the basement of his tower, in the middle of a delicate negotiation with a craftsman accused of weaving sub-standard rope. The accused was on the verge of signing a full confession when everyone on the island heard the first fireball detonate. “What does that lunatic Wrathrok think he’s doing? The rest of you stay here while I have a talk with our fire mage about self-restraint.”

The head wizard had just donned his cape and grabbed his staff when the second explosion sounded. Normally the model of decorum, Kragen rushed up the spiral staircase to the ground level with two bodyguards in tow. He’d just reached the archway marking the edge of his personal zone when the south tower self-destructed with a titanic aelserclap. Dust fell from the archway as the foundations vibrated. The workmen around the Mandala dove for cover.

“Close the portcullis and let nothing pass!” the necromancer ordered as he ran. Unfortunately, the walkway between that arch and the front courtyard was about a three-bit sprint with no shelter, over two hundred heartbeats. As they ran, chunks of blasted tower cascaded around them like rain. A piece of masonry slammed into one bodyguard’s skull, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

At the entrance to the stockade, the guard poked his head above the sharpened, wooden points to note, “Tumberlin’s coming this way, and there’s a sheriff chasing him.”

“I want to see this,” said another guard, and bets began changing hands. Before the wind wizard had even made the safety of the stockade, the watchmen began winching the drawbridge up. Craftsmen in the courtyard babbled in panic and confusion. Most of them were artificers and adverse to actual combat. Dvardoc waved them into his meeting hall, giving orders through his foreman. Anyone not guarding the wall poured through the great double doors into the safety of the Hall of Remembrance, which led to the crypts below. Tools and expensive, construction materials were left behind without a backward glance.

The workers were still abandoning the Mandala like ants from a kicked mound when a panting apprentice narrowly made it over the closing drawbridge. Still vowing revenge for the rude comments of the north-tower guards, Tumberlin ordered the commander of the stockade wall, “Lazy fool, go get the master immediately!”

“I don’t take orders from you!” countered the man on the wall. Just then, Tashi made his bid to breach their defenses.

“More soldiers are coming. Their markings are from the Executioner’s Guild,” said the lookout in a stage whisper.

“Yes, a few battalions of them should be here once they finish looting whatever part of the tower their siege engines haven’t destroyed. Lord Kragen must be informed,” insisted Tumberlin.

The head of the watch snapped to attention, “Yes, sir. I’ll carry the message myself.” He and several key advisors left as fast as their feet could carry them.

Tumberlin walked onto the hard, multicolored, glass surface of the Mandala, clutching his amulet. It was time to find out what this giant, complicated spell was for. The birds from the fossil around his neck swirled about, knocking the linen covers off the sesterina-plated mirrors. All at once, the windmills inside the orbs on every post began to spin. The glare was intense, but the apprentice felt strangely invigorated, almost drunk with confidence. He didn’t see the dwarf and his minions close the hall’s double doors and bar them from the inside.

The lookout had an excellent view of the proceedings from his parapet, and continued his narration. “Oh gods, there are more swimming out of the water to take the bridge. The men in the courtyard are laying down their weapons and surrendering without a fight.”

This news enraged Tumberlin, who considered the surrender a personal betrayal. Vowing to punish them, he found the fossil-like paving stone he needed near the summoning circle that had been crafted for him. The blurred pattern of dots was actually a swarm of stinging insects suspended in amber-like sea glass. Focusing his concentration with the ancient chant, the apprentice went through the same steps he had hundreds of times before. Taking off his left boot, Tumberlin touched the fsil with his bare foot, warming it via direct contact with his flesh. Then he allowed a small spark of his own essence to jump into the glass. This would remind the creatures of life and whet their appetites. Finally, he reached inside for the link to the source of his magic, and
willed
the wasps to appear.

The mirrors must have helped because the wasps appeared more quickly and in greater numbers than he had ever experienced before. Often the summoner would have to establish clear dominance at this point or strike a deal of some kind with the spirit arrivals. But the wasps would do what he wanted by their very nature. Angry and held back by the Mandala’s defenses, the dark, cloudy swarm circled above, looking for any target for their displeasure. Tumberlin gave them just that, pointing to the traitors in the north-tower compound. The wasps streaked through the sky, eager to wreak vengeance.

They flew high over the heads of the cringing perimeter guards, as well as the three invaders on the bridge, without slowing. The frenzied shouts and splashing of water near the mainland made their real targets apparent. The archers, who saw the doom approaching first, dove into a hay wagon, hoping to hide. For any man caught in the open, there was no defense against this horror. Fortunately, Babu was stung only once on the leg and managed to crawl to the water past other convulsing victims with multiple ugly welts.

During the chaos that ensued, the smith took the opportunity to slip over the side of the bridge and cling to the fresh-water pipe that passed underneath. Sulandhurka followed without hesitation. Tashi crawled inside the gateway and hid behind a support pillar for the parapet, wiping and sheathing his brightly polished sword. All observers were so riveted on the disaster that no one saw the invaders inching forward.

Elated with his first success, Tumberlin was determined that no one would escape his wrath. Hopping forward and over to another spiral arm, the apprentice found another weapon. This time, as he summoned, the dark waters in the moat churned. Just after the crucial spark jumped from the apprentice, Lord Kragen burst into the courtyard and demanded, “What’s the meaning of this?”

Tumberlin’s eyes shone with glee. “Your enemies are upon you, Lord. Don’t you wish you had been freer with your lessons now?”

****

More screams came from the moat as men were pulled under and bloodstains spread. This blood seemed to attract other hungry spirits that had not been explicitly summoned and therefore acted without control. The archers ran to the edge to help pull Babu out. First, he tossed his sword up onto the bridge to keep it from getting any wetter than it was already. Then, he used both hands to climb. As he hauled himself up the pilings, Babu said, “Only one way to live through this. Get close enough to put an arrow in that damn wiz…” His last order was cut off by swallowed water as something unseen dragged him back in. Since the wasps were turning their way again, the archers decided to take Babu’s advice and head for the source, the eye of this demonic storm. The rearmost archer took a heartbeat to pick up the valuable sword with the mark of their Brotherhood upon the hilt.

Tashi used the distraction to dash to the edge of the nearest building and pull himself up onto the roof. The smith and the slaver pulled themselves hand-over-hand along the pipe. Sulandhurka gritted his teeth, envisioning a slow-roasting fire for this summoner.

****

Kragen removtosselippers and stood barefoot at the border of the Mandala. His tall, Imperial bodyguard drew his sword and placed several large military darts on a worktable beside him. The darts had spirit-metal tips. He stood ready to guard his master’s back during the confrontation. Both ki mages held their men in reserve for protection, waiting in the wings. There was no evidence yet of who’d killed the fire mage. For all they knew, Tumberlin himself could have inflicted the damage. Indeed, there were no enemies visible, only an over-reaching apprentice about to get a long-deserved come-uppance. Kragen waved a hand and the two portcullises leading to the rest of the island dropped. With the invisible shield blocking the garden archway at the top of the inner stairs and all doors sealed, the only way to the rest of the island was through the furious crime-lord himself.

“You’re attacking our own men!” bellowed Kragen.

The sentry still atop the parapet started to correct the high wizard, but saw the blue crackling at the lord’s right hand. Instead of drawing attention to himself, he stepped into the tiny guardhouse, closed the door, and crouched out of sight.

“Men? They’re no better than dogs!” shouted Tumberlin as the windmills turned faster still. Taking a decisive step toward the center of the design, the apprentice called up a mountain goat, a ram with huge horns. “As are you all!”

Kragen ignored the threat; intoning a different chant, he strode carefully across the pattern, following only the blue lines. The territorial ram charged in the direction of the drawbridge, missing the high mage altogether. The master had managed to become invisible to the dumb creature. However, the ram continued on its way until it found a target for its lowered rack.

The lead archer for the Brotherhood was surprised when an unseen force shattered several of his ribs, scattered his quiver, and knocked him from the bridge. His companion, the timid Gallatin, shrieked in blind panic. Afraid of another saurian massacre, he dropped to his knees and began slashing wildly about with his shard of wizard crystal. He told himself they had been mad to challenge these defenses, even with the element of surprise.