Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen

by Scott Rhine

  ets playing a fanfare when they disembarked and again when they raised the unified banner. At the foot of the Holy Mountain, Humi left her palanquin and knelt before the Keepers that met her. “Out of respect, I bow to the gods of this great mountain. Together, we shall bring a new era of respect for their pantheon.” They saluted her and fell in line behind the Pretender’s palanquin.

  The Kragen contingent was welcomed again at the capital, with many gifts and glowing promises. Soon, reports began to arrive from all sides. In the map room, the spymaster approached Sanadarac, but fell silent when he saw Humi. The emperor said, “I know that you don’t trust easily, but her fate and mine have become intertwined. Our entire apparatus must somehow be knit into one fabric over the next week. You may share the reports in front of her. The Kragen intelligence service might be able to explain gaps in your own.”

  Hisbet snted at the thought, but continued as ordered. “I have word of many storms in the Inner Sea. We lost contact with a ship of daggers off the island of Muro.”

  “You said that you had no ships in the south,” Humi challenged Sandarac.

  “His majesty gave me dispensation over one vessel which I use for my own clandestine missions,” Hisbet covered.

  “These things happen. What of the enemy?” asked Sandarac, knowing that the deception would cost him a favor later. “I trust they were inconvenienced as well?”

  “Their supply lines and reinforcements were destroyed,” crowed Hisbet.

  “You’re welcome,” said Humi.

  When the spymaster looked puzzled, Sandarac explained, “This storm was no accident. It happened at her request and will continue happening to all who do not bear our new banner.” He pointed to the symbol on his own chest.

  “Indeed,” said Hisbet, reassessing the woman. He presented a summary of troop movements inside Intaglios. “The rapid resolution of the Barnham issue did much to make this possible. We wish to thank her ladyship for her prompt honoring of our agreement.”

  “Skip the routine items; we’re rather busy. I want to find out what happened in the Vale. Anything else interesting in the intelligence briefings?” asked Sandarac after scribbling a few notes.

  “A certain retired general from Zanzibos was recently assassinated,” Hisbet said, staring pointedly at the lady.

  “How did you know it was the hand of Kragen?” asked Humi. “I mean, I’m told it looked like a lion-hunting accident.”

  “Yes,” said the Viper. “That’s what my contact has been telling everyone. He’d been planning the same accident for years. No one else will suspect. Sire, you have selected an outstanding partner, a jewel among women. She doesn’t disappoint in any arena.”

  She gave him a nod of approval. There may have been a hint of lust in the last statement, but she deflected with, “That reminds me, beloved. Please invite the governor of Barnham to the wedding.”

  “He can’t possibly walk here in time,” Sandarac insisted.

  “Send my ship to meet him at the delta,” she countered. “We need him.”

  The Pretender snapped his fingers and dispatched a runner to write an urgent invitation that couldn’t be refused. “All the same, we’d have to delay another day to guarantee his attendance.”

  “Do so, and reserve a place of honor,” she demanded. “After King Zandar dies, Onira will be chosen as regent for the prince. It’ll be most convenient if he is already at your majesty’s side.”

  Hisbet sighed, “Sire, you should flog me for insufficient praise. I’m unworthy to stand in her presence.”

  This earned a smile from her.

  Next, General Garad’s aide spoke. He stammered and apologized frequently. “Invaders hold southern Semenos, but forests, hills, and mountains work to our advantage. We’re still redrawing our maps and troop strength figures. It’ll be a week before we can tell which units fought each other or what tactics worked. But losses appear to have been high on both sides.” He recited a litany of injuriesunit type and a roster of those remaining in the field. “Our wounded will recover faster due to his majesty’s excellent planning. Vinspar himself was injured and is returning by ship. He’ll provide a more detailed analysis. But the enemy appears to be withdrawing to the north.”

  Sandarac stopped tapping his pen nib. “I wanted them pinned in that valley. I sacrificed untold men to make it so. The High Gardener was supposed to be preventing this very problem. Where’s his report?”

  The general’s aide winced. “The Gardener has raced ahead of them to the capital Semenea while everyone else harasses and delays the occupying army.”

  “Idiot!” shouted Sandarac.

  “Everyone crawls north,” said the aide.

  “Where are the Kiateran nobles?” the emperor demanded.

  The aide flipped through several pages. “I . . . don’t know, sire.”

  “Find out! The coin is still spinning,” Sandarac announced. “Either side could still win. We just need to tip the scales in our favor.”

  “Take out their queen,” suggested Humi. “That’ll slow them and break this petty rebellion. Without the queen to cloak their actions, the soldiers from the Vineyard will be unwelcome invaders, quickly repelled.”

  Sandarac nodded.

  Hisbet said, “I’ll see to this immediately.”

  Wedding pavilions were built, and countless proclamations went out. Silk banners were mass-produced and sent to ships. That night, the Viper managed a word alone with the empress-to-be.

  “Speak,” she said, weary from all the planning and toadies.

  “I’ve heard about the Shadow you wield.”

  “To the point, my nails need to be done before I hear about my troop movements.”

  “We have, it seems, a common enemy—Zariah.”

  “She’s done nothing to me, other than bequeath me her broken religion,” Humi said.

  “Ah, but she’s not completely dead, per se, merely powerless. She held enormous sway over the emperor. Should she return . . .”

  “You want me to kill her?”

  “Just provide me with a location, and I’ll do the rest, Lady,” said the Viper.

  “I must orchestrate some delicate matters in the south first. Once the King of Zanzibos is dead, they will elect a Regent as the heir’s guardian. The Regent will control the kingdom. We control the best candidate for the office. Only one vote eludes us. Soon, we will possess the nephew of that voter. After this task, I’ll make your request a priority,” she vowed. “I look forward to many years of mutual understanding and respect.”

  “I’m your humble servant.”

  ****

  neral Dhagmurna spoke to the Shadow of Kragen at two hours past dark. The mute Imperial, Morlan, stood beside him. The enemy had nicknamed the enthusiastic soldier many things. Whatever the Kragen woman desired, he made happen, no matter who got in the way.

  “I spoke to Lady Nerissa,” said the evil spirit. “They’re ready to ride downriver to the capital.”

  “Excellent, my team is cutting bridges, sealing wells, ambushing—anything we can do to slow the regular army down and keep them distracted.”

  “Ten more days till you rejoin?” hissed Tumberlin.

  “Eight from tonight. Those on the river can travel much faster than we can. But the city gates are half a day’s march from the river. We need to be there to provide a distraction so that the Imperials and wizards can sneak in under cover of night.”

  “You must visit the Zorn plantation while you are still in range,” Tumberlin commanded.

  “It’s over an hour from the main force. We’re stretched thin as it is,” complained the mercenary leader.

  “The nephew is the key to the lady’s plans,” the shadow stressed. “She needs him to force the regency after you kill Zandar.”

  Morlan stepped forward to volunteer. Dhagmurna sighed. “This is bad form. I’ll allow it under protest, but only if you take twenty men with you.”

  “The child’s on the second floor of the remote ea
stern guest house. The cover is excellent and the mission easy. There’s only one guard, one old woman, and one servant girl. You could do it with a hand of men.”

  The bodyguard nodded, making motions to the general. “Yes, it would be faster, but there’s a price on your head,” Dhagmurna cautioned.

  The mute cocked his head sardonically, as if to ask, “Really?”

  “All right, two hands of men. One stays on the road to guard your retreat, and the other one can be all Imperials. Then you won’t need to carry lanterns or torches,” Dhagmurna compromised. They smacked fists one on top of the other. “New money.”

  “Inform her ladyship of the plan,” the general told the shadow.

  “Wait for my signal to invade the house.” The shadow bowed and disappeared.

  Tumberlin’s spirit reappeared at the Zorn plantation. The house had thirty men camped around it. He listened to the ambush party for a while. “They moved the boy south an hour to his great aunt’s house. I hope this isn’t a false alarm.”

  “I wouldn’t bet my life on it,” the Shadow of Kragen hissed. “Seven Imperials one hour from now. Hide in the fields. They get in, but not out. The mute wears a green scarf in his epaulets.”

  The terrified field commander thanked him and sent his men into the fields. “If one of you moves or so much as sneezes before that creaky gate opens again, we’ll kill you after we capture the raiders.”

  Tumberlin located the real nephew in his new hiding place. It took three-quarters of the hour. The Shadow met the raiders on the road near their objective. “The serving woman has a gentleman caller tonight. They’re in the kitchen talking,” the shadowlied. “The situation calls for stealth.”

  Morlan sighed. This was the despicable part of the job. He pointed to himself and one other man to sneak into the house. The rest would wait outside in case the poor woman ran. He didn’t want to kill her, but she might be better off. The Zanzibos royal family would torture her to find out what she knew, just in case she’d been paid to assist in the abduction. He began to creep around to the dark side of the farmhouse.

  Meanwhile, Tumberlin appeared before the backup men on the road. “Change in plans. Interrogation of the servant revealed that the boy we want has been moved to his great aunt’s house.” He proceeded to give detailed instructions on how to reach and breach the proper house. These soldiers would be out of reach when any cries for help sounded.

  As Morlan and his dagger man snuck into the house, Tumberlin whispered to the Imperial waiting outside. “Someone’s sneaking up by the stream. Take three men and handle it.” He was obeyed without question. Now only two men stood outside, protecting Morlan. To each of these, he whispered, “Go tell the men with torches we’re done here.”

  By the time, Morlan came from the house with the finely dressed peasant boy, he had no coverage. As soon as he stepped into the open, the former bodyguard sensed the trap. Tumberlin sat grinning on the rooftop, watching the drama unfold. Seconds after Morlan drew his blade, archers killed the knifeman and the child decoy. Thirty soldiers rustled through the cornfield to surround him.

  Tumberlin gloated, “When the gutter slut hears of your capture, she’ll demand to be left alone to weep. I have paid one of her guards, Drasnir, to erase a finger’s span of the protective circle. While she writes a letter, begging for your release, I’ll slip my bounds, and take her from behind.”

  Morlan reversed his sword and plunged it toward his own throat. “Stop him!” shouted their commander.

  Arrows sprouted from the suicidal man’s sword arm. Face locked in a silent rictus, Morlan used his left hand to finish the deed. Tumberlin hovered over the dying man, soaking in the agony of the deed and the taste of unrequited love pouring out his veins. “That works, too, I suppose.”

  ****

  Glowing with his recent feedings, Tumberlin appeared before Humi. Much to his surprise, the emperor was also there with his sergeant at arms. “Is the necklace acceptable?” asked Sandarac. “It’s only sesterina-plated, or it couldn’t hold a sapphire that big.”

  “It will suffice.” Noticing Tumberlin, she ordered the guards out. The emperor remained seated on the floor beside her. Then, she turned to Tumberlin’s sad body and asked, “What is it, slave? What news do you bring?”

  “Your navy will land by the capital of Zanzibos in eight days. All is proceeding as planned. However, the Zorn child was moved at the last instant. One of the mercenary’s camp followers must have talked.”

  Humi clutched at her chest. Barely holding her voice steady, she said, “Find that nephew!”

  Tumberlin bowed, searching for the gap in the protective circle. There was no flaw in the design, so he decided to curry favor with the harlot instead. He’d have to settle with Drasnir later. “I overheard his location from the Zanzibosian torturers, empress-to-be, and gave the orders for you. The royal nephew is in our possession.”

  “Excellent, you may have five extra minutes tonight,” Humi granted.

  “As you will.”

  “What torturers?” asked Sandarac.

  “The ones slow-roasting Lord Morlan over a fire,” Tumberlin said with mock concern. Humi gasped and covered her face. Then the Pretender held her to his breast. The emperor knew now exactly how she felt about the bodyguard. “It was a trap. Lord Morlan detected it early and sacrificed himself so that the others could get away. There was only one other casualty thanks to his amazing bravery.”

  “Indeed,” agreed the emperor as he held the speechless Humi.

  “Count Teldana offered to let Morlan go if he’d sign a simple admission that your child was his.”

  “He wouldn’t,” she rasped through her tears.

  “You’re right,” Tumberlin gloated, making the scene up as he went. “He tried to cut off his own hand first to avoid the temptation. That just made them angry. Now they’re seeing how long they can keep him alive. The supervisor for the interrogation is one of those savage desert tribesmen. His average is three days. Count Teldana has a betting pool to see who can guess the number of hours.”

  Humi pulled back, faced the emperor, and said, “Order the assassination of Teldana.”

  Sandarac nodded, his face betraying nothing. “That would please us. I’ll schedule a state funeral for Lord Morlan tomorrow to honor his bravery.”

  She inclined her head at the display of consideration. Theirs would be a successful partnership. Lady Kragen faced the shadow and ordered, “Tell Dhagmurna to burn them all, everyone with the royal banner. Burn their fields, their homes, their families, and their food. Post Morlan’s name over the ashes of every town that refuses to fight by our side.”

  Tumberlin was giddy. He would feast for weeks on the suffering. “As you will.”

  After the spirit left to spread the message, Humi said, “The shadow lies because he hates me.”

  “He’s hungry for you.”

  “What do you know of spirit?”

  “I know men. Never be alone with him,” warned Sandarac.

  “Is that concern I hear in your voice?”

  “Our fates are joined, Lady, even as we shall soon be joined in flesh. I guard you as I guard myself.”

  She touched his face. Sandarac was handsome in a soft sort of way. “You’ve lost your special one as well. Come with me to my room, and we’ll tell each other of their glory.”

  Sandarac was shocked, first that she knew about Jolia and second that she was making such a risqué offer. When she saw his face, she said, “For tonight, we speak and share. I royal bold nothing from you, not even my pain. To trust each other, we must know. We build a new thing here.”

  He smiled at this. “You’re quoting my speeches.” The woman before him was a strong, exotic beauty, if a bit draconian. “You seduce me well. I shall follow where you lead.”

  Chapter 30 – Crossroads

  Sarajah stopped briefly at the ruins of her old temple. The cloak didn’t make her invisible; rather, e

  veryone viewed her as “one of u
s.” Nobles thought of her as “just another servant.” She retrieved a few useful items considered garbage by those clearing away the rubble. Afterward, they thanked her for her help and gave her some food for her journey.

  Then, Sarajah walked to the easternmost edge of the biggest, oldest city on the planet. She stopped at the intersection of roads where the route to Turiv crossed the ones to Semenea and Reneau. It was the farthest she’d walked in the last decade. When she arrived, the quiet at the crossroads filled her. This was where she needed to be.

  The seeress sat on the lowest branch of a giant tree and watched the crowds go by. Between troops and guests arriving for the wedding, half the world was coming into Reneau. No one remarked at her perch.

  After an entire day of observing this ebb tide of humanity, something changed. At twilight, she saw the first person coming out of Reneau. Odder still, this person looked up at her face as he approached. That’s when she realized that the seven-foot creature with the head of a black panther was not human.

  “Greetings, sister,” said the regal Dawn creature, sniffing the air. He’d spoken one of the three elder languages, the one most common among the Fallen.

  “Where goest thou?” she asked in the same arcane tongue.

  “I answer the call, the fountain of power that shoots into the sky to the north.”

  She nodded. “The Final Temple, the last Door to Eternity.” Surely, they’d gather like deer at an open corn crib.

  The creature picked up the tone of her thought, but not the exact words. “Many of the hungry can collect crumbs from this feast. Bread falls from the sky. Hurry there before all the good mana holes are gone.” Sniffing, he noted, “You have our smell and sound, but not the form. And your eyes are a beautiful cat-green. Why?”