Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (5 page)

Despite the stench, Pinetto had been content hiding until he saw Sajika. His lady had witnessed the colors fall and decided to make things right. Her bolo streaked through the air and snared the beefy Imperial around the throat. As the soldier choked and clawed at his throat, Sajika moved in with her staff and inflicted a terrible punishment. She shouted with effort and rage with every strike. Eventually, her opponent tumbled face forward into the shallow waters, finished by the terrain itself.

Rustic spearmen saw Sajika raise the banner of Bablios and charged her from all sides. Pinetto wanted to warn her, but another enemy Imperial stalked nearby, a few paces from his hiding place. Arrows and sling stones splashed around their position like hail, pelting friend and foe alike. Afraid to move, he closed his eyes tightly and prayed. “Save her. Save her, Bablios. Sajika is one of your truest faithful. Save her, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

A voice he knew well bellowed above the din, and northern peasants were plowed aside. Behind the smith, Kiateran scouts poured into the breach. They formed a small, protective core around the banner and, for the moment, the center held. Just as the smith raised the magical sesterina blade over his head in a victory yell, the clouds let a ray of sunlight through to kiss the crown of his head. The crazed gleam in the sword-bearer’s eye made even his friend shiver.

The enemy Imperial, who had just noticed Pinetto, was stabbed in the back by a holy dagger. Legato scooped up the man’s Honor—a knight’s sword with a numbered medal on the hilt, registered to a specific noble family. He was carrying three such swords as trophies.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” whimpered Pinetto.

Legato stuffed the extra swords into an ox’s pack and stared at the astronomer like an insect he’d found in his beer mug. “Get your skinny ass up that tree,” he ordered.

“W-why?” Pinetto asked.

“You have the best eyes here and we need a fall-back position. Locate a defensible scrap of land somewhere near here. Preferably one that has water on three sides so we can make the bastards line up to die,” Legato snapped. When the astronomer still stood there, dazed, the prince ordered, “Move, maggot! Your friends aren’t going to last much longer unless you find us good ground.”

Trembling and uncertain, Pinetto climbed. He didn’t even know people were shooting arrows at him until water from his pack trickled down his leg. When he froze in fright, Legato shouted, “Climb faster, damn you, or the next spear up your ass will be mine.”

Motivated, Pinetto reached the highest branch possible before his weight bent it downward. Above the fray, he experienced a moment of peace. This wasn’t so bad, really. From here, he could ignore the fact that these were men. It took only moments to spot the ideal retreat. “Five hundred paces that way. Head north by northeast till you hit the river. Look for the rocks.”

Legato rallied his men and summoned the banner to his side. The southeastern alliance ants, red and brown alike, began to pour around the trees and head for the stream. No one shouted louder to clear the enemy stragglers from their path than the smith waving the god-forged sword. Crowds parted before him and a growing multitude followed from behind. The sun disappeared behind a cloud once more as he left the field.

Pinetto was inordinately proud of the wheels he had set in motion until another arrow hit the tree trunk beside his face. The astronomer could see the cocky archer wave at him from below, notching another flight. Cursing, Pinetto crawled down as far as he could between arrows. At the last beat, he placed the tree between himself and the next volley. Even if he could get all the way down before anyone reinforced this lone archer, Pinetto would be trapped against the tree until all of his friends were long gone. To make matters worse, his pouch had snagged on one of the many smaller branches. Pinetto would’ve abandoned the leather sack except for the wizard treasure inside. Crouching to make himself as small as possible, he slipped shaking fingers inside and pulled out the dark stone.

In the ultraviolet storm light, the life-stone was eerily beautiful. The tiny paw print sparkled like a diamond in the light that still came from the Compass Star. An idea formed.

Pinetto knew the theory, but had never done the deed. He wrapped his palm around the stone and whispered, “Come on out, little guy.”

There was no physical reaction. He tried again, exerting his will. The sparkles seemed to swirl like milk in morning tea, but the stone grew colder. It needed more heat. Another arrow skidded past, scratching his leg. Oddly, a stampede of enemy soldiers pursuing his friends intervened, giving him a few moments of safety.

Pinetto stanched the blood from the deep scratch with his free hand. The blood was warm. Troops were pulling in from all over. So be it, he decided. Pinetto wrapped his blood-soaked hand around the stone and ordered, “Come forth!”

The effort made him dizzy. What little mana he possessed was squeezed out of him like pulp from an orange. He almost let go of the tree. A shadowy black squirrel perched above his head. The image was so faint that it could have been a reflection in a glass bottle. This was a watershed moment in his life. Pinetto had passed the threshold between idle academic and battle wizard. He wanted to tell all of his friendseight="0">

Distracted by his unlikely success, he didn’t realize the precariousness of his situation. Angry at being summoned, the creature swatted at Pinetto’s wrist in an attempt to send him to the ground in a hurry. Fortunately, the squirrel grazed the corner of the sky wizard’s protected cloak instead. The summoned animal jumped back in pain, chittering. The novice wizard replied, “I think you’re ugly, too, fellow. But we need each other. I need you to cut the string on that archer’s bow down there right away.”

The squirrel didn’t move, almost folding its arms. “I have your life-stone, you have to obey.” Nothing. Spirits often wanted some sort of trade. “I could get you some nice acorns, boy.” Nuts didn’t interest the shadowy squirrel. It was staring at his bloody leg, licking its lips.

Pinetto couldn’t believe he was offering this, but tried to reason like the sky mage. “I’ll pay you a drop of my own blood.” He had its attention now. The tiny ravenous beast’s eyes glittered. It wanted payment in advance. The astronomer removed his torn leggings and squeezed the blood from them onto the crook of the branch. The squirrel lapped up every drop, and even chewed away the bark where blood had touched.

Once payment had been rendered, the squirrel vanished with amazing speed. The astronomer descended as fast as he could, cursing. He stopped only to free his sesterina-wire-laced cape when it snagged. He couldn’t let that rip. The bowman screamed shortly thereafter. Pinetto ran for the river like all the demons of hell were on his tail. Judging from a few half-eaten corpses he saw on the way, quite a few might have been.

Pinetto had to take a few detours along the way. He was one of the last men to reach the rallying point before the defensive trenches were finished and planted with spikes. After he hurdled the ditch, Legato was the first to greet him. “You finally made it, a bit worse for wear, but mostly intact.”

“Asshole,” Pinetto snapped back. The Kiaterans all laughed.

“Aye, but one everyone turns to when the blood starts flowing. You’ve earned your scout patch today, lad. I didn’t think to ever see you again.”

“A flatulent, gaping sphincter,” Pinetto spit.

More laughter. “Easy, lad. Put a ‘sir’ at the end of that rant. You’ll want to take off your travel clothes and wash a bit if you want to make it to the strategy meeting.”

“I’m not taking this cloak off ever again,” said the novice summoner. “There are spirits out there who know my smell. Wolves, a whole pack of them.”

Legato nodded. “Suit yourself. The lady made it thanks to you. I just thought you’d like to smell nice for the thank-you bang you’ll be getting later.”

“Correction, you’re an ass with puss-oozing boils, sir,” Pinetto muttered with a glare.

“Better than being a coward who watches everything he holds dear slaughtered,” the rogue countered. “I won’t say a word. But I’d be careful about promises to gods, if I were you. They always collect. And I’m a prince compared to them.”

Pinetto had no reply but had begun to calm. He obtained a new waterskin to replace the damaged one and went to the river to fill it. He made an effort to scrub himself clean in the cold water, but not all the stains would come out. While gingerly blotting his leg, he was startled by unexplained sounhteren the woods nearby. Quickly pulling on mismatched but clean clothing, Pinetto decided to seek out the safety of a roaring fire and many well-armed friends.

The meek astronomer pulled Sajika aside while the others continued to debate their next course of action. She smiled when she saw him, but military decorum wouldn’t allow her to do more than give his hand a squeeze. “They’re calling you a hero,” she whispered. “About seventy-five of us made it to this island of safety thanks to you. A few more might straggle in later.”

Pinetto squirmed, “When a man sees the woman he loves in danger . . .” He never finished his question about promises to a god because, decorum-be-damned, his commanding officer kissed him so hard that his knees melted. Pinetto forgot the topic of the conversation entirely. When they came up for air, the room was quiet.

When he opened his eyes, Pinetto saw that the leaders in the tent were staring, not at him, but at a member of the Prefect’s staff. An emissary from the main force had found them; rescue couldn’t be far behind.

“How is the South faring?” asked one leader.

“Six out of every ten fallen were the enemy. For the moment, we have the advantage,” said the emissary.

“Makes sense,” muttered Legato. “We’re more mobile and think better on our feet. Each side has about the same number of Semenean archers. Those pikemen aren’t much good unless we’re charging them, and the Pretender’s Imperials don’t like to wallow in this mud. Where was the trap set?”

“In the valley ahead. We caught them extending the bait, and they caught our vanguard. The enemy fire mages had their catapults aimed into the valley only. The Pretender can’t bring his main foot-soldier force to bear through the pass because the battle blocks it. We are doing our best to crush the bait and escape,” said the emissary.

Several people in the tent asked about the status of friends or other units in the conflict. The emissary raised a hand to quiet them. “The Prefect has a bold plan that could change the shape of the war. We’ll make history today.”

Disgust crept over the smith’s face. “He wants us to cover his retreat and we’re expected to volunteer.”

The emissary looked surprised. “How’d you know?”

“Because he’s been told he’s pretty before,” Legato laughed. “And you slipped when you said the fire mages ‘had’ their catapults aimed inward. The catapults are moving and can prevent you from crossing the river if the enemy gets them in place. What he’s not mentioning is that it is likely to be a one-way mission, with little chance of rejoining the main force.”

The emissary wanted the soldiers in the tent to see the magnitude of the opportunity available to them. “We can move in through the unprotected underbelly and strike forhers, the capital. With this threat, we can control our opponents and force his hand in any number of ways. Once the capital is taken, we place the rightful queen on the throne. We dig in and can sue for peace under favorable terms. We’ll have become the liberators we have always claimed to be, and the South will control the majority of the Empire. Once the scales are tipped in our favor, total victory is only a matter of waiting.”

Legato spat. “Tell that to my people when they don’t have enough to eat. Eventually means nothing to an empty belly.”

Sajika defended the emissary. “But if these weapons aren’t stopped, we’ll all suffer for it. Our lines will be cut to pieces and any advantages we’ve bled for today will float down the river to the sea.”

The smith agreed partially. “They have more men and shorter supply lines. If we stay here, they’ll get a chance to apply their strengths and hurt us. We need to break away and try for the Obsidian Throne now. That way, even if you can’t take the capital, we win a kingdom and tip the scales.”

Legato concurred.

“That would be desertion,” the emissary objected. “Bablios needs your scouts to accomplish this mission.”

Harsh words flew about the tent concerning other things that the emissary needed. “What about spirit magic?” Pinetto asked Legato while the argument raged.

The prince explained. “Both sides have pulled most of the wizards back that are still living. Spirit magic is great for scouting or a terror tactic, softening folks up for a big charge. Magic is normally a spearhead. But wizards are too valuable to risk on everyday combat.”

“What if you had one?” the astronomer asked. “Could you at least slow the catapults down?”

“Why would I want to?” asked Legato, warily.

Pinetto tried to sound casual. “Once you’re separated from the main force, you’d have an excuse for heading north a different way. Their move on the capital might provide you with the distraction you need to sneak up to the mines.”

Legato licked his lips. “You do understand that what I put you through was a picnic compared to this assignment?” Pinetto nodded. “And you’re sure that you can pull this off?”

Pinetto confessed. “I found another dead wizard on the way here. I’ve got a wolf stone now. But I won’t be able to summon it until I’ve rested.”