Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (50 page)

Her body remained rigid when she heard the ratchet of a crossbow nearby. With a sudden inspiration, she made her sleeves longer to hide her weapon and lowered the bust line to increase the distraction. She slowly raised her hands and allowed the tuning fork to slide down to her elbow. Then she willed the fabric to tighten around the handle.

As she turned, she could see that the morning sky was lightening as normal—except in one band, directly over the inner sanctum. A cone of shadow, like a reverse search light, reached up into the sky from the magic Door. She knew from her own experience at the Temple of Sleep that there was only one time a year that mana flows surged like this. “Happy Emperor’s Day,” she said to the soldier.

They removed her belt pouch and dagger, but didn’t find the fork. It took all her control not to giggle at this turn of events. The whole trip down to the cells, she imagined the shock on Tashi’s face when he passed by her cell on the way in! Not until she heard the barred door clank shut did Sarajah remember the crown hidden in her pack.

****

When the sun began creeping into the sky, Legato had circles under his eyes and, he imagined, a few more gray hairs. He had to hold three other pieces in place with a shaking hand as he inserted the keystone. The architect behind him applauded softly. “Give it a turn and it should lock in place.”

“Bugger!” said the prince. “You knew all along? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The architect smiled. “You’re the one who needed to solve it. This is
your
heritage.”

The prince snorted. “The ambassador’s going to love you. So how do we know when the ballista’s disabled? What’s the sheriff’s signal going to be?”

Simon pointed to the dark beacon on the horizon. “Something like that?”

“Hitch up the team. We’re on our way to restore the kingdom.”

“Once you’re on your throne, you’re going to miss these carefree days on the run when you only had to worry about your enemy putting an arrow in you.”

The prince laughed. “Thanks.”

“You could still back out. All you have to do is delay a few hourd the crown will end up in someone else’s hands next year.”

Legato shook his head. “Nah. Damn me if I don’t care about these miserable sods. I’m going to do my best to get through that gauntlet as soon as possible.”

“And then?”

“The hard work begins.”

Simon sank to one knee. “If something happens and I don’t survive till your coronation, I wanted to be the first to call you majesty, King Legato.”

The other five people still in the camp sank to their knees as well, including Sajika. A small tear actually formed in the debaucher’s eye as he said, “Rise.”

Brent passed fruit out to Jotham’s entire group for breakfast. Wound tight and ready for combat at any moment, Tashi put his apple in a pocket for later. As soon as the sun rose, Sophia led them to the proper mausoleum and into the c
atacombs. Tatters had some spare rags and oil, and wrapped the end of Tashi’s staff to make a torch. The light source smoked unpleasantly, but Brent said, “We shouldn’t need it for long.” They passed through a snaking series of tunnels, each lined with skeletons stacked on stone shelves. Eventually, she went down a staircase that led into a brick wall. She turned to face the rest of the group with shock on her face.

“It seems the Marchion is dangerously intelligent,” Jotham admitted.

“Use the coin,” said Tashi.

Jotham asked the coin, “Should we go back up or turn right at that last branch?”
Ting
.

The magic coin rolled down the steps. Tashi followed and bent over to read it. “It says up.”

He glanced straight up from the coin, and the shaft continued into the darkness. The ex-sheriff asked, “Up here or the mausoleum.”
Ting
. “Here.”

The young Tatters climbed the rough stone with ease. “About four paces up, there’s a smooth square of fancy marble on the same side as the wall. It’s sitting on top of some wooden planks.”

Sophia signed. “P-r-y. W-a-l-l.” Brent translated.

Jotham snorted in amusement. “It appears that his main concern is keeping people in, not out.”

After popping out the marble tile and the one next to it, Tatters was able to wriggle into the room beyond. It was a private room in the hospital wing, now vacant. The entrance to the chamber was covered only by a blue curtain because no doors were used in this wing. Physicians and caretakers needed to be able to come and go without disturbing the patients. Unfortunately, any sound would carry. They could see him laying a finger over his lips by the faint daylight that leaked through. He hooked a grapnel to the heavy, brass bed frame and lowered the attached rope through the hole.

The gravedigger peeked through the curtain, but could see nothing but a hall of similar curtains with a large common area in the center and a stairwell at both ends. This room was the third curtain, about ten paces from the nearest stair. He kept watch while the rest of the team began ascending.

Extinguishing the waning torch, Tashi volunteered to go next. Once in the hospital room, he used his strngth to pull the others up one at a time. Jotham climbed third, then Sophia.

The priest crept to the past the curtain to see if the ward was occupied. The next room had two entrances and ten cots. Every cot contained a man or woman, too sick or elderly to move on their own. Despite the evidence of emptied gruel bowls on a cart, the patients were stick-thin. They had thick blankets, as the rooms were only marginally warmer than the catacombs. There was a second cart of empty chamber pots in the room. A worker must have been hauling away full ones. They’d need to act swiftly and silently to avoid exposure.

“Will be crushed before his army. Blah, blah. The lieutenant informed me. Brave words for one in chains. And my name is Captain Devereaux. I come from a respected Fireton family with a long tradition of military service. You can’t frighten me with . . .” After growing louder for several steps, the man turned his back on the hall and his voice muffled as he descended the stairs with his captive.

“No. What I said was my boyfriend is going to kick your walking-dead ass before my army levels your pathetic hole-in-the-ground temple.”

Sophia and Jotham followed Tashi. When Tashi release his hold on the rope, the unexpected weight dragged Tatters across the slick floor. As he bumped back down the hole, Brent braked by jamming his legs out. The boy let out a “Youch” as the rock smacked him in the back, but his downward motion halted.

“What was that?” demanded the ki mage who was leading the seeress into the basement.

“My boyfriend knocking out the guards in your dungeon,” she said confidently.

The two guards with them laughed. But the woman spoke with such assurance that the elderly mage of the Left Hand of Life stopped on the steps and held the woman against his chest as a shield. He placed his hand on her breast and proclaimed, “You down there, surrender or I’ll drain the life from her before your very eyes!”

Tashi’s staff knocked out the man to Devereaux’s right.

The ki mage turned to face his attacker, attempted dramatically to siphon Sarajah, and failed. He was recovering from his befuddlement when the man to his left fell to the same holy myrtle weapon. Why was a Son of Semenos fighting against him? The captain darted his hand out to drain the attacker but, again, nothing happened. The clear chainmail merely turned black under his hand. “Enough!” he bellowed. The air tingled as he prepared his unstoppable bolt of energy.

The hellcat head-butted him. The force knocked Devereaux backward down the stairs, and the ki blast shattered the plaster on the ceiling. White dust rained down on the group. Spitting plaster fragments, the bound seeress shouted, “Pin his arms to the stone! He’ll be helpless.”

Together, she and Sophia each grabbed an arm. Tashi pinned his legs with increasing mass. When Sophia seemed immune from his leech powers as well, Deveraux tried to ask, “Who are you?” but the tongue he’d just bitten wouldn’t work properly.

“This is the boyfriend I warned you about,” jeered Sarajah.

The ki mage roared defiantly until the ex-sheriff shoved an apple into his wide-open mouth. “Why don’t we just toss him out the window?” asked Tashi.

As if discussing paint color, she replied, “If the windows faced the other way, we could throw him into the cemetery. Off the parapet works nicely, too. They come apart like old parchment. Otherwise, he’ll just keep crawling at you.”

“One, nobody orders me to do anything. Two, I had to bring back your precious artifact. And three, if you want to spank me, you’ll have to survive to sundown—which won’t happen without me.”

He had no reply. Sophia snickered.

Jotham jogged back to the room just as the gravediggers helped the boy up the shaft. Rapidly, he asked, “Might I trouble you for your climbing gear?” He dashed back with the sack of tools and tried to hand it to Tashi. The ki mage’s eyes bugged out when he saw the rock hammer.

The former Executioner didn’t even ask how she knew this bit of anatomical trivia; rather, he set to work with a vengeance. Everyone looked away as the metal sank into flesh under a flurry of hammer blows. They remained faced away as the second leg commenced. “I guess I should have done both ankles at once, sorry.”

The ki mage shifted and slammed his fist into the side of her face, knocking the women into eacher. But before the mage could follow through with another attack, Jotham rolled onto the freed arm.

“Overlap the arms,” suggested Sarajah. Sophia ran to shield Brent from the scene. The seeress called to the others, “Meet us up one level at the entrance to the Great Hall.”

Brent, Sophia, and the gravediggers took off. Tatters rewrapped his grapnel line as he ran.

Tashi helped Jotham and Sarajah arrange the arms. The moment they lined up, he pounded the spike furiously. “Hold him still, will you?” In two heavy blows, he anchored the man’s arms to the step. When they heard shouting coming closer, he snapped, “Run, teacher.”

Taking Sarajah’s right manacle, Tashi drove another spike through the hasp. It cracked open, freeing her arms as the soldiers reached their stairwell. He said, “I’ll go low, you go high.”

He roared as he slid into four soldiers, staff held horizontally before him. Three of the opponents tumbled like tenpins. The only one left standing was the swordsman. Without thinking, the seeress smashed him across the bridge of the nose with her chain. There was a satisfying snap of cartilage and the swordsman collapsed, gripping his injured face. Tashi wrestled with the largest man while two others rose to their knees. Sarajah kicked one in the jaw, knocking him out with ease. The other was standing before she tapped a nerve on his club arm and kicked him in the groin. A gong sounded somewhere above them.

When Tashi stood, victorious, she sighed, “Finally.”

Just as they reached the Great Hall, a portcullis dropped from the ceiling. Instead of diving under it, Sarajah held the ex-sheriff back from getting injured. “We’ll take the rooftops; it’s safer.”

“What about locks or a guide?” Tashi asked.

“Throw me the rope,” she said to Tatters, and he slid it through the bars.

Tashi took off his chainmail. He handed the armor and hardened staff through in exchange. “Give these to Jotham. Tell him not to kill anyone, but I don’t think Beyonders count.”

“Wait,” the seeress said, removing a clear brick from her pouch. No one had considered it worth confiscating, although her spare food and money had been stolen by the soldiers on the parapets. She placed the brick against the armor and closed her eyes. The black spot came out like a stain in the laundry, barely noticeable to the naked eye. “That’s as much as I can do. Go!”