Terry W. Ervin (17 page)

He stood to my right and spoke while the seer approached me from the left. “The incantation will enable us to see, in the pool, what you witnessed. We may be able to hear what you said and what you heard.”

Kneeling, I looked into the recessed bowl that filled most of the table. I hadn’t been close enough before to see the finely carved symbols running along the table’s edges and extending down into the bowl’s interior. Even though the bowl appeared shallow, I couldn’t see the bottom.

The imperial seer came up behind me and whispered into my right ear. “Place your hands upon the grooves.”

I spotted two depressions in front of me, each with a silver inlaid carving. The right held an eye, the left an ear. I took a breath as I edged my sweating palms forward. I looked up. Darkness filled the room beyond the table. Energy, similar to the wild flurry I experienced when first meeting Grand Wizard Seelain, flowed into me from behind. It wasn’t crackling, but steady, calm waves. Each wave’s pulse slowed my racing heart until the rhythms matched.

The seer, her body close behind but not touching, whispered into my right ear, “Hands on the grooves.”

I’d lowered them into place before realizing I had. She reached around and laid her ring-adorned hands over mine and whispered such that nobody but I could hear, “Do not fear, Krish, son of Thurmond.” She paused, and for an instant, her energy flow increased its intensity. I tried to lift my hands, but she held them in place. “Flank Hawk, your secret is safe. I shall ward it.”

I believed her. When the depths of the water began to swirl and glow, a rainbow of colors formed. I imagined the same spinning colors upon her white eyes.

The seer pressed her body against my back and rested her chin upon my head. She reached beyond me, cupped water in each hand, and brought them to my eyes. Chanting her energy through me, the seer placed her water-filled hands over my eyes. Her voice reverberated through my body, echoed in my head. “See,” she commanded. “Show me the enemy.”

Somehow I saw right through her hands into the bowl. The swirling rainbow had risen to the water’s surface. As the colors formed and gathered, a moving picture emerged. It was my first night of combat where my friend, Harvid, fell. The image was in my mind and in the water. I heard him scream as the zombie fists pummeled him. They’d yanked him away and I couldn’t reach him! Guzzy pulled me back and we fought side-by-side, desperate to hold the zombie horde at bay.

The general, colonels and other officers had gathered around the table. I couldn’t speak as they watched. It might have been the spell or simply the shock of reliving the frantic skirmish.

My voice wasn’t necessary. Imperial Seer Lochelle narrated. Her voice held no passion, yet it cut through the din rising from the bowl. “This is the first night of combat for Krish, defending in the service of Lord Hingroar.”

As the images flowed, a bond between the imperial seer and me formed. Strands of magic, its harnessed energy, flowed from her, through me, and into the bowl.

I watched and listened to the distant sounds of battle, and the imperial seer’s voice. She continued explaining as the images skipped forward to the next engagement. I held my breath, knowing it was coming. I saw it again; Guzzy cut down Harvid’s animated corpse when I couldn’t. The experience was more vivid than any nightmare. I closed my eyes but it didn’t matter. Even my scream was silent.

Seer Lochelle’s voice reminded me it was a vision of the past. “The enemy grew in strength using the fallen defenders from the first night.”

The scene faded to the third evening. In my mind, and in the bowl’s water, I leaned against a rotting oak rising from a mud-slick gully, watching for the enemy with Guzzy. I knew what was coming and my heart raced. Even knowing it had already happened, I wanted to yell—warn Guzzy.

Seer Lochelle whispered into my thoughts, “I will spare witnessing your cousin’s death. I’ll not reveal your hidden talent.”

Black Mule Company advanced, retreated, divided. At Road Toad’s urging, Guzzy and I followed the captain. Then the ogres charged. I threw my spear and retreated while Road Toad slashed with his sword and Guzzy chopped with his axe.

Snickers, not from my memory, nor from the seer, reached my ears. The magical flow halted, leaving the energy pricking in place along my scalp, neck and spine.

“Silence,” hissed the seer. “Or depart.”

“We’ve no need to watch an ill-trained and cowardly peasant retreat from zombies and ogres.”

With the flow of magic halted, I could no longer see through the seer’s cupped hands. Still, I knew Colonel Brizich’s dismissive voice. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I am leaving.”

I also recognized the woman who responded. “I suggest you stay,” advised Grand Wizard Seelain. “You will not only see the powerful equipment and tactics of the enemy, you will also see the soldier before you stand where you would have fled.”

“Hah!” replied the colonel, his voice more distant. “This is a waste of time while the enemy advances.”

“Stay, Colonel Brizich.”

“Grand Wizard, I am advisor to King Tobias and answer to him, not to you.”

“You will stay,” she said in a tense, menacing tone.

“You hold no authority here,” said the colonel, his bravado diminishing.

“I do,” interrupted General Riverton, “and I agree with Grand Wizard Seelain. You will stay, or resign your position as advisor to the king.”

Boots stomped back into place while the static magic again flowed through me to the water. “Now,” said the seer, “witness the devastation of the enemy’s panzers.”

The pool revealed the panzers and their firepower at the Valduz River. Urgent whispers spread around the table. When the Stukas appeared in the sky above Prince Reveron’s camp and repeatedly demonstrated their firepower, muted groans and curses accented the whispers.

As the gathered soldiers and wizards watched my experience reflected in the pool, I again endured the bone golem, relived Pop’s and Short’s deaths, and participated in the prince’s rescue. When I thought to touch Short’s talisman beneath my shirt, the imperial seer whispered to me, “No,” and I complied.

Just after I’d followed Prince Reveron, Wizard Seelain, and Road Toad across the plank and over the mound to safety, the vision ended. Imperial Seer Lochelle yanked her hands away from my eyes and stepped back, severing the magical bond. I fell to my left, stunned and unable to breathe. The separation had knocked the wind out of me. Wizard Seelain’s was the first face I saw.

She knelt next to me and rolled me on my back. “Relax, Flank Hawk. Relax and breathe.”

I nodded and slowly my breath came. I was exhausted, like I’d dug irrigation ditches for a week, nonstop.

“Careful,” warned Wizard Seelain. “You’ll hyperventilate.”

“Wha…what?” I asked.

“Slow down.” She smiled. “Don’t breathe so fast.”

A healer in white robes knelt next to Wizard Seelain. I struggled to keep my eyes open as the soldiers and wizards walked past, leaving the chamber. Gray filled the edge of my vision. Everything looked fuzzy. I wondered what had happened to the imperial seer.

“So, Colonel Brizich,” asked Wizard Seelain, in a cold voice, “was it worth your time?”

He stared down at her, then at me. Without saying a word, he marched out with fists clenched.

I wasn’t sure if Grand Wizard Seelain was my ally or friend. I was quite sure Colonel Brizich was now my enemy. I was too tired to ponder. Before Wizard Seelain and the healer managed to lift me to my feet, I blacked out.

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

Nestled in Cheyenne Mountain, NORAD had been on full alert. Coordinated satellites viewing the earth in the infrared part of the spectrum recorded the demise of one ballistic missile while radars, including the Cobra Dane early-warning on in the Aleutian chain and the X-band floating on a nearby platform, tracked the two surviving sub launched missiles as they climbed.

Thousands of communications and orders per minute emanated from the underground complex in Colorado. A lesser number of incoming messages were received. Many were automatic protocol; others initiated by the President of the United States, even as he climbed into the clouds aboard Air Force One.

Something didn’t feel right. My bed was too comfortable, too soft and warm. I opened my eyes to flickering light playing across the ceiling. Someone across the room sat with their back to me, hunched over a table. The oil lamp resting on the table outlined his body. He sat up and turned around at the sound of the bed’s creaking.

“Good morning, Flank Hawk,” said Road Toad. He reached back and adjusted the lamp’s wick, providing more light. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I said, scratching my head. “What happened? How long have you been here?”

Road Toad was dressed in his armor, but without his sword. “Not long. Are you hungry?”

I nodded and sat with my bare feet on the cold stone floor.

He pointed to my armor. “You can wear that, or the fancy garments they gave you.”

I walked over to my armor hanging on a rack and began dressing. “What were you doing? Praying?”

He held up a thin leather-bound book. “Reading about frost dragons. It’s believed the Necromancer King captured a number of them from somewhere far to the northeast. Trained them for combat.”

I buckled on my belt before reaching for my socks and boots. Even in the weak light I could tell the servants had cleaned my undergarments and padded armor. They’d mended and patched where necessary. “Are they dangerous?” After I asked, I realized it was a dumb question.

“Seems so.” He stood and stretched his arms above his head, and rotated his torso left and right. “If they get close enough to breathe on you.” He carefully tucked the book into a satchel and slung it over his shoulder. From his belt he pulled a sheathed dirk. “Here,” he said crossing the room. “Being mercenaries, they won’t allow us to carry swords in the palace, but we may carry our daggers for self-defense.”

Like Guzzy, I’d taken to keeping the dirk in my boot.

Road Toad retrieved the lamp and set it on the shelf near the door. “There’s some silver in that blade.”

“Guzzy paid a lot for it. Said it would work against werebeasts and magical creatures.”

Road Toad opened the door and blew out the lamp. “If a lycanthrope or demon gets so close that you have to defend yourself with a dirk, silver or not…” He shook his head and licked his teeth.

“Better than nothing,” I said, following him out and pulling the door closed.

“True.” He patted me on the back and led me to the left. “But not by much. You’ve never been anyplace like the King’s City?”

“I’ve never been in a city. This palace is bigger than Pine Ridge.” Suddenly I remembered Pine Ridge, and my family. I wondered what had happened to them. “Where will people go if the Necromancer King overruns their lands?”

“South, into the cities. Or into the wilds for a while before returning home, hoping the enemy won’t notice or harm them if they do.”

We nodded to guards and servants as we traveled the palace halls. “My father has an uncle that lives outside the Doran Confederacy,” I said, “A village in northern Keesee.”

Road Toad exhaled heavily. “Your cousin, Guzzy, was a good man. And your father raised you well. Evidenced by that, I’d say your family is under strong leadership. You saw your family preparing to move ahead of the enemy’s advance. They’re safe,” he said, looking at me with unflinching confidence.

“And after a bit of food we’ll retrieve our swords and I’ll show you a bit of the city.” Road Toad grinned. “Or at least what I can remember of it.”

The King’s City consisted of two levels. The upper level sat on a flat plateau above the sea. Few buildings stood near the cliff’s edge, but about seventy-five feet back they sprouted up in a tangled mixture of squat homes and skyward reaching towers, both rounded and square. The buildings became more ornate and impressive the further east from the sea until they reached the palace in the city’s center. Between the city center and the eastern walls the pattern of fancy to more mundane structures repeated itself.

The lower shorefront section of the city was accessible by using either one of the two long, sloping tunnels hewn through the stone upon which the city sat, or two narrow, railed stairways down the cliff face. Down there, the city’s busy harbor accommodated both merchant and fishing vessels.

We stood in line, waiting our turn to enter the right tunnel for downward traffic. Individual laborers with heavy bundles, or paired laborers hauling crates with sturdy poles between them, waited with us. A few cursing seamen, I guessed from their weathered look and odor of salt mingled with sweat, jostled and verbally harassed some of the laborers. We were the only mercenaries and they ignored us.

“So, Flank Hawk, what do you think of the market place?”

“It’s like anything can be found there, but it’s so crowded. It stinks of livestock and too many rude people.” I tried to sort the images of strange buildings lining the narrow streets. “How can you find your way to the markets, or anyplace you want to go?”

He patted me on the back, emphasizing my new backplate, purchased to match my breastplate. “Everything but decent arms and armor. Deplorable what little they had.” He chuckled. “There is some organization. Usually sea imports like the fine cloth and garment sellers are on the outer edges, nearest the Tyrrhenian. Closer to the ports. The food sellers along with the trinkets are opposite, east side. Working your way in you’ll find the better and greater skilled craftsmen and their wares. Silver smiths, enchanters.” We’d advanced a few paces as Road Toad talked. “Don’t look eye level. Use the tall buildings as landmarks to find your way. I note towers, or mansions with terraces. Sometimes signs.” He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. “Can you read?”