Read Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen Online
Authors: Scott Rhine
Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (41 page)
“Why, sir?” asked Vinspar.
“We’ll send him to Innisport to negotiate the peace with the nobles of the south. They’ll trust him as one of their own.”
“What if they turn on him?”
“Onira is a survivor,” Navarra answered. “He has letters of rank, native contacts, and impeccable instincts.”
“Why would he turn against his own king?”
“Zandar used him to deliver an insult to Lord Kragen and sold his commission before the day was up. Onira will return to his mansion in Barnham, if for no other reason than we hold the other half of his men hostage there. Scouts are very loyal.”
“How are you so confident of victory at Zandar’s palace?” asked Vinspar.
Humi explained, “My beloved shared with us the map he copied from the stolen Book of Dominion.”
“Stolen?” Vinspar asked in panic.
She smiled at this veiled compliment as she continued, “The map was the last message delivered to Lady Nerissa before we lost communication. Emperor Myron maintained a secret route from the rivers to each king’s palace, a path on which no fortification was permitted.”
Navarra said, “Since the Scattering, none has been needed. The only thing on that side of the capital is the bridge to their twin’s kingdom, Bablios. The gap is only fifty feet wide on each side of the friendship bridge. Every other part of the perimeter is thick, sandstone wall, defense against the nomads. Zandar sent the bulk of his swords to Innisport, and we’ve tied his tail in knots. If our mercenaries can take the beaches by surprise, nothing can keep us from our goal.”
“You’re sending a few mercenaries?” asked Urgot, incredulous.
“The Brotherhood of Executioners,” Navarra explained. His audience was impressed. “The
entire
Brotherhood.” His audience was stunned into silence.
“Zandar insulted the wrong woman,” Humi stated flatly.
Garad’s man stammered, “You’ll inflict incredible damage, but the city won’t fall.”
“Not the city, just the royal family,” Navarra explained. “We’ve arranged for Governor Onira to be the Regent for the only family member that will remain alive.”
“The document we gave Onira says that he travelled here to beg a boon from us on our wedding day. Because of his impassioned pleas and the support of Lady Jolia, we agreed to spare the youngest heir of Zandar’s line.”
Vinspar rose and bowed to Humi. “It will be a pleasure to serve you . . . Empress.”
“If this works, only the Vineyard and its allies will stand against you. How will you counter them?” asked Garad’s man.
“Once we have Zanzibos in hand and the Prefect’s army pinned down, we’ll strike at the Center,” said the emperor.
Humi added, “Then the cattle of Mandibos will bow and the isolated Vineyard will have no choice but to surrender.”
“It can work, but it will take planning,” said Vinspar. “With the men left, we could blockade and starve the wizards, but not storm the gates of Center.”
“We need no ships for a blockade,” said Lady Kragen. “Say the word and every rowboat they have will sink before my goddess’s wrath.”
“Indeed,” said Vinspar, bowing. “Until the other battles are resolved, we can use your sea supremacy to weaken the members of the College. Perhaps we can present them with a
fait accompli
, and they’ll offer the crown out of sheer hunger. Who else needs troops? Perhaps we could retain the rest at the docks.”
“Um . . . the leeches have also petitioned for protection from his highness,” noted General Garad’s aide.
Vinspar groaned. “We can’t afford to lose the ki mages from the north temple, sire. They’re key to our hospitals and field medcine.”
“And they’ve never asked his highness for anything before,” reasoned the Keeper sergeant at arms.
“What emergency are they having?” asked Sandarac.
The man consulted his notes. “An outbreak of trolls and wolves in the valley near the border.”
“By the Final Temple of the Traveler?” the emperor asked, remembering Zariah’s final warning to him. “My dreams have told me this is vital to our interests. Send two hundred soldiers north immediately, march them double-time if necessary. Tell the ki mages that we take their safety most seriously.”
Vinspar nodded. “Such a deployment will take a long time, and the troops would arrive exhausted. It might be faster to shift men from northeast Intaglios and send the local men there. Twice as many men will move, but half the distance each.”
“Make it so,” ordered Sandarac.
****
The wedding would be the talk of every noble for a hundred years. The empress’s trousseau was already the stuff of legends. The ceremony took three hours, end-to-end. Kragen’s might and fate were wed to Sandarac’s. Then the excessive pageantry truly began. They served the best alcohol from every part of the realm: Imperial rice wine, Intaglian spice beer, Semenean honey mead, wine imported from Bablios, potato vodka from Mandibos, and aged Zanzibosian ale. Onira’s Scouts camped by this table. The empress was handfed white asparagus from the temple gardens of Semenos. Entertainers had to be limited to ten bits each because so many spectacles vied for their attention. The cake alone took ten men to carry out, and the top burst into colored, magical flames.
Onira never took his eyes off Jolia. They both enjoyed the wedding feast and the stimulating conversation. All the while, he was looking forward to seeing Jolia’s new purchases.
A messenger came to the emperor’s table during the first dance of the ball. Prior to the wedding, a fake emergency had been staged to give Sandarac an excuse not to dance with his bride. Even without his presence, the empress had a long line of men wanting to impress her.
Soon after, Onira and several other high-ranking men were called away.
The emperor addressed his men coldly from a lectern. Because he couldn’t stand on his own, he had to be held upright by hidden straps. “Semenea has surrendered prematurely. Our simple reinforcement has turned into a winter-long siege. But I’ll turn this to our advantage. The enemy’s strength is pinned in one place while we are free to move throughout the world. Through mobility, logistics, and training, we will prevail.
“Governor Onira, your mission is more vital than ever. Tell your men to embark immediately.”
After speaking to the emperor, the governor returned to the ball. Onira gave Jolia a long, promising kiss goodbye. “I must again into danger fare.”
She snorted. “You’re not leaving me here.”
“You’d go into war with me?” asked the governor, thinking this too good to be true.
“There’s a war here, too. And
they
don’t like me,” she countered.
“What say you men?” Onira asked his scouts, knowing what the answer would be. They cheered their approval.
They took a ferry down to Humi’s ship in Turiv. Everyone had new clothing and gifts from the Imperial family. As they walked up the gangplank, Onira confessed, “I hate water travel.”
“I’ve done it hundreds of times. Stay below decks. You have a nice cabin and you got here safely, right?” Jolia confirmed.
“Yes, but that was river travel and close to shore with a dozen other boats in sight. The Inner Sea frightens me.”
“You’ve earned a dozen medals, crossed deserts, and marched into battle against emperors to do what you think is right,” she encouraged.
“That’s different. Not being able to see the shore, in a floating coffin, with demons beating on the walls . . .” Onira began.
She put a finger on his lips. “You’re scaring the men. You need to set an example.” He straightened, knowing she was right. “I know you’re disappointed about missing the bathhouse,” she whispered in his ear in a tone that made him shiver. “But I plan to distract you for the entire voyage.”
Jotham, with his Imperial night vision, led the group northward. Being a local, Simon the architect made a few suggestions to speed their progress and avoid patrols. Tashi flipped the magic coin
each time they approached an obstacle or crossroads. They remained as silent as possible throughout the night. At dawn, they made camp to rest for a few hours.
Tashi noted, “We can slip through the next major town over the lunch hour without raising suspicions.”
“Looks like we’re clear,” remarked Simon as the couple set up one of four small tents that he’d procured for their journey. Sarajah shared with the boy. The gravediggers shared another, and Tashi shared the last one with the priest.
Sophia, the architect’s wife, helped Jotham examine the group’s injuries. The eunuch gave the architect bark tea for his sore muscles. The sheriff’s fingertips were healing rapidly. “No need for bandages anymore, but you should sleep first shift,” Jotham ordered.
“I thought each tent would take a shift standing a two-hour watch,” said Tashi.
“One person per shift should be enough for daylight, until the territory gets more hostile,” Sarajah reasoned. “When we get close to the temple, there’ll be a lot of Dawn race activity. When we cross their feeding grounds, we’ll want to be as fresh as possible.”
The sheriff nodded. “If anyone meets up with us today, we need a good story. Tell them we’re a family traveling home after the Imperial wedding.”
Jotham glanced over at the boy and Tatters helping Simon to build the campfire. Owl was in bed snoring already. “Close enough.”
In contrast to the sheriff, Sarajah’s fingers were not progressing well.
“I didn’t know the tuning fork was capable of that,” remarked Jotham, as he examined the swollen digits.
The seeress shrugged. “I’ve picked up a lot of trivia over the years. The feedback loop would’ve intensified the closer the shadow approached. When the resonance reached the proper level, I could’ve subdued the monster on my own—if our good knight hadn’t interfered.”
“You stopped the circuit because Tashi would’ve born the brunt of the discharge.”
The mute woman smirked as she finger-spelled, “You l-i-k-e . . .”
“Shut up,” snapped Sarajah. “I would’ve done the same for any member of our team. He has a thick head, but it could’ve stopped his heart.”
Sophia nodded in an exaggerated fashion and made a beating heart with her fist on her chest.
“I have a panther-demon who owes me. I could send him back to shred your garden. Cats like to do that sort of thing. He wouldn’t even charge me.”
Sophia stuck out her tongue.
“We have two choices,” mused Jotham, ignoring the schoolgirl antics. “First, we could have Brent give you the blessing of mountains. He still carries some of the chalk with him.”
“That’s for old women,” objected the seeress.
Sophia snickered.
“Technically, you’re older than me,” Jotham pointed out. “Flesh and mass can be faked with magic infusion. However, the bones lose minerals over time. Unless you exercise . . .”
“You just called me an old, fat, lazy deceiver. Get to the next choice before I break the other hand on your face.”
“Or we perform the Ceremony of Freeing. It’s the rite of initiation into our order. Afterward, you’ll have more energy and heal more quickly.” When she didn’t respond, the priest added, “Or we can dip you in the river over here and bring you back to the fire. It’d only take a few bits and it would make you safe from repossession.”
“Do it.”
Sophia signed, “A-r-e you s-u-r-e?”
“I’d smear myself in camel dung and eat a live toad if I thought it would stop
that
from ever happening again.”
“I’ll need to draw glyphs on the spirtual entry points. The risk of possession is worse than you realize. The gift from your kingdom’s ill-fated goddess to your people was immunity to life drain. When spirits see your eye color, they know you’re the perfect host. You were the only one Zariah could ride without fear of killing. Normal people turn to husks when an Air spirit rides them too long. They have to keep getting new hosts . . .”
“Stop! I said do it,” Sarajah hissed.
“H-o-w you k-n-o-w?” Sophia spelled, as the other woman translated.
“The Book of Dominion said that the goddess Eutheros was one of the worst winnowers, pruners of unnecessary human life. Because of their ability to resist drain, she could use her people as a weapon against other Dawn folk. The Book warns any emperor to kill your kind first.”
“If you can’t say anything nice . . .” the seeress commented.
“Sophia, please stoke the fire. We’ll be cold when we return,” the priest requested politely. The architect’s wife nodded and left to prepare blankets. The other men in the camp crawled into their tents to sleep as Jotham led the seeress to the river by the morning’s first light.
“We’ll need a holy symbol,” he said. “Perhaps the sheriff’s tabard?”
When Sarajah held up the tuning fork in an obscene gesture, he said, “You’re right. A relic would be better. Although, it will be easier if you remove your clothes.”
She gave him a sharp stare before remembering he was a eunuch. “Won’t you have to
touch
me then?”
He pulled out the blue gloves from Tamarind Pass and slipped them on. “No. I came prepared.”
“No offense, but do women normally take off their clothes for ceremonies in your religion?”
“You’re the first woman I’ve ever performed this ceremony for.”
“Why naked?”
Jotham held up an ink bottle and pen. “Wards on your forehead, neck, chest, spine . . .”