Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (46 page)

“Bad idea,” exclaimed Tashi. “Trolls. We need another way.”

“Well, to help build this bridge and haul up local supplies, they constructed the back stairs. They’re sort of like the servants’ entrance to the kitchen.”

“I have documents from the emperor that can get us past the garrison once,” said Sarajah. “I’m saving that for our retreat. We have an army of Intagliosians on our tails, so we can’t go south again when we leave. Our only choices are north and east.”

“No, their holy mountain is only about two days’ march from the falls. There are roads that wind their way up the east side,” explained the priest.

“Those paths are really steep,” said Brent. “Simon used to haul supplies that way for the upper level of the temple.”

Jotham nodded. “Now they also have an elaborate lift system for portage, similar to the rail carts in Reneau, but using water to turn the gears and provide counterweight. The invaders employed this to unload men and supplies from several war vessels, even hauling up smaller watercraft. Once up, they had to be carried past the rapids, but the Kiaterans don’t have a navy to speak of . . .”

Brent sensed another history lesson coming on and interrupted. “Any more questions about the
map
?”

“How do we cross the river?” asked Sarajah.

“There are two ways: a narrow man-bridge atop the falls,” Brent said touching a line on the map, “and a cargo bridge to the south of the falls, downriver.”

The historian elaborated on the larger structure. “It’s called the Friendship Bridge and represents the bond between Intaglios and Semenos. Allegedly, it was a reaction to the famous bridge joining the twins in the south. However, it was really a ploy to allow troops to reach—”

Brent continued, “The easiest way into the sanctuary is through the cemetery and catacombs.” He traced a finger along one of the maps. “The Great Hall is the central hub. From there, we head north to the main chapel. There’s an access passage from the changing room on the second floor, along the side balcony, to the pulpit of the high priest. From the pulpit, there’s a side entrance to the holy of holies, at the apex of the temple.” He handed each of them a copy of the temple map.

Tashi asked, “Where’s your copy?” When Brent tapped his forehead, the ex-sheriff said, “Really? The moment you hand the tenor your cape, what happens to that memory?”

Brent blinked. “Good point.”

The priest reminded them all, “The Marchion wounds the universe in his mad experimentation. We must stop him and regain the artifact.”

“Take your time,” Sarajah said with no trace of sarcasm in her voice. “Our esteemed former sheriff says it’ll only take about three hours to reach the valley entrance. I want to talk to my spirit guide before we go in, and he won’t meet me there till sundown.” Brent opened his mouth to say something, and she held up her hand. “I know you don’t approve of trafficking with spirits. But I’m being safe.”

The boy shook his head. “Actually, I was going to ask why you’re showing respect to Tashi for a change.”

She found something in urgent need of packing to avoid the question. Brent chuckled silently at her reaction, borrowed a bottle of ink, and began drawing maps on his sleeves.

****

The road grew higher and narrower as they approached the valley. On the right, the crumbling hill dropped off into a ravine where the river surged. There were a few trees and some hardy brush clinging to the steep banks. Tashi told them, “If you fall off the edge, try to grab a branch of some kind while we drop you a rope. That fall is just far enough that it’ll break your legs when you hit the water.”

Simon joked, “If you hit one of those rocks in the water, it’ll break everything else.”

Sophia frowned, but Brent laughed.

On the left, sheer rock walls rose to hem them in. Tashi pointed to fallen rocks and put a finger over his lips. They had to keep silent lest boulders break loose and crush them. The path was only five paces wide and threaded between unpleasant outcomes.

The trail widened at the very top at a bend in the river. The tiny plateau, an extra six paces wider, had been labeled ‘Look Out Point’ on the map. Late that afternoon, they set up camp on the overlook with an excellent view of the river in both directions. They could see the entrance to the back stairs forty paces north, just before the path descended into the valley proper. The bridge was about two miles away, all downhill.

Here, at the mouth of the valley, Sarajah waited for the last of the sun’s disc to vanish; Tashi stood three paces behind her. First one hour and then two passed. Then she began to pace. Her dress was now black to match her mood. The ex-sheriff finally worked up the courage to ask her, “Are you avoiding me because you don’t want to be with-child on this mission?”

“One reason. The rope around her waist sustains her at a single moment in time. She hasn’t had a period since her . . . incident.” The word death was to be avoided.

The ex-sheriff was scandalized. “I thought it was like breeding with any Imperial, as if he were a different race. Then how did the other emperors have six fingers?”

She shrugged. “Ask your teacher; Jotham has the Book of Dominion. I’m guessing that when the chosen heir undergoes the final ceremony in the throne room, the radiation mutates him as well.”

He didn’t understand half of what the seeress was saying. After she nibbled on his ear, he stopped trying.

****

When the panther-headed Dawn creature approached hours later, he had something that looked like a four-foot armadillo waddling after him. “Greetings great witch and her pet.”

“Hail Bagierog. Who’s your friend?” she asked.

“No names. Let’s just say he owes me one. Three more of my kind will join us after sunrise; they heard about your mission to help Calligrose and wanted to assist in any way they could.”

“That only leaves about sixty men, two fire mages, fifteen Dawn creatures, nine undying ki mages, and assorted acolytes for me,” grumbled the sheriff. “Half each, beautiful?”

She colored a little before reprimanding him. “We do not complain, but accept all gifts with grace. Bagierog, how many guard the Imperial garrison on the portage route?”

“I own him,” she said cryptically. “He’s probably here trying to hide from me.” To the panther, she said, “What do we have to watch out for in the valley?”

“Not much. The other Dawn folk here have pledged neutrality in the conflict. But at the northeast edge, there’s a camp of about seventy men. They have twenty swords with an Imperial wizard,” Bagierog said.

The seeress cursed so angrily that the armadillo curled up in a ball. The panther chuckled at her colorful turn of phrase in the old language. When she calmed, she asked pleasantly, “Who is it? The Semenos army, come to squeeze us?”

“I’m not certain,” the panther-headed creature admitted. “We observed them for some time. The uniforms are a hodge-podge, but their wizard has exceptional wards. He can hide himself from my sight. Some of the soldiers are even wearing Kiateran colors. My friend overheard them talking, and they claim the wizard’s guarded day and night by this smith with a sword of Miracles.”

“I did manage to make one friend who lived,” Tashi began. The panther opened his mouth to comment but the seeress silenced him. “That smith follows the old ways and owes me a favor.”

“That just leaves the acolytes, ki and fire mages for you two to fight,” noted Bagierog wryly.

Sarajah glared at him. She couldn’t afford for these two to start a pissing contest. “How do we find this wizard and the swordsman with him?”

“Ah, well, I just waited till he started spying on your companions’ campsite. He’s using a chipmunk spirit. I can’t see the wizard, but . . .”

The Defender of the Realm streaked out of its sheath, only to be blocked by Tashi’s hardened wood staff. The smith halted his assault when he saw the ex-sheriff’s face. “You’re dead!” Then, he shifted his gaze to Sarajah, still wearing Alana’s form. “You’re both dead.”

The two accompanying archers from Legato’s band froze, not wanting to hit their allies, and seeing no attack.

“I’m not her,” said the seeress, changing her outfit from black to light brown. “I change bodies the way I change clothes. My favored one likes this form.”

“What’s not to like?” The astronomer seemed to take the news in stride.

Narrowing his eyes, the smith noticed some changes and asked, “Did you transfer your tattoos onto her somehow? Did they . . . rub off?”

Pinetto cleared his throat, indicating the listening archers. “He’s right, you know. You’re pretty
noisy
when you move.”

“And you move like an old man, wizard,” the smith replied. Then he got the hint, and excused himself from the archers. “We’re old friends from Tamarind. We’re going to catch up over there.”

The smith put a finger to his lips. “I just got roped into helping Prince Legato reassemble the Obsidian Throne and reclaim his kingdom.”