Odyssey mgc-1

by Vance Moore

  "It is a chain that is dragging you down. You speak of what you can do, what you know," she said gently. "You must give it up, even if it must be destroyed."

  The bird warrior started but with visible effort stifled his initial response and nodded.

  "The Order and the Strictures must come first," he said reluctantly. "Only give me time to examine it a little more. You are right that I have done nothing with it other than let dreams of glory lead me astray. Give me a chance to investigate it a little more before we give it up to those who use the crushers." The captain nodded doubtfully as Laquatus tasted his heart in his mouth. Give the orb to the fanatics who thought the past should be erased? Those who spurned objects of enchantment and condemned wonders to the grinding wheels of their one sanctioned machine? He would see the Citadel ground to dust before he allowed the orb to be damaged.

  Kirtar excused himself and left. It took a moment for the ambassador to break his trance and send his jack after him. Perhaps it would take an obvious intervention to take the sphere from these fools. He hoped the underground explorers would find a route soon.

  *****

  Turg lurked behind a pile of heavy canvas, waiting for the lieutenant to speak. The frog had followed the officer and stayed at a distance. Laquatus soon begged off any further talks with the captain or her representatives, citing his exhaustion from the journey. Now the ambassador rode the frog's spirit, nudging him closer to hear the conspirators.

  At least that was merman's belief. The bird warrior left, but instead of retiring directly to his room he spoke to several knights before visiting the armory. Laquatus had a bad moment when he saw the shape of a great crusher filling a building's interior. Several squires pushed a capstan, driving the interior mechanisms. A robotic bird was thrown into the machine's gaping mouth, and a series of smashing collisions sounded, then died down as tiny pieces of the forbidden technology came out the other end. A pile of mechanical limbs and less definable work filled a basket that the presiding officer continued to empty.

  Laquatus very nearly sent his champion charging for the orb at that moment. Kirtar had shook himself and left the crusher with a look of fresh determination on his face. Once more he stopped to give a message, and this time Turg was able to hear.

  "The dungeon just after midnight."

  The frog spent hours waiting in sight of Kirtar's quarters, but the bird warrior did not come out again. Dinner came and went, and the frog's belly grumbled.

  In camouflage, he raided the remnants of the evening meal, then headed for the dungeon. Rather than the vast cavern that Laquatus expected, just several empty cells in a tower's base served as the Order's prison. Only the distinc-tive smell allowed the frog to find it without asking for directions. Laquatus was heartened that even the Order's ideals could not negate the need for small rooms reeking of despair and filth. The frog breathed the odor in deeply before hiding behind stores in the main room.

  Kirtar arrived first, inspecting the chamber carefully. Laquatus fed a minute portion of power to Turg, and the spell, combined with the champion's natural camouflage, prevented his discovery. Other knights arrived until five moved to a table. Laquatus noticed with little surprise that all were aven bird warriors. Kirtar spoke, and the others listened silently. The door was not whisperwood, so the lieutenant talked softly.

  "I and my fathers have served the Order loyally. You have all been warriors in the Order without any blemish on your service. None may say otherwise."

  Turg could hear the rustling of nods and crept out a bit beyond the bags to see the conspiracy.

  "But to be loyal to the Order means that sometimes the Strictures must be disobeyed, ill- conceived commands must be ignored."

  There were fewer signs of agreement, but there was an affirmative air about the group,

  "I won a great prize while competing in the tourney," Kirtar continued. "While defending the helpless, even in that evil city, I defeated a dragon."

  Another nod of assent and a bit of pride showed among the warriors at one of their own overcoming such a beast.

  "These are difficult times for the Order," the lieutenant said quietly. "The forest has risen and assaulted our lands as never before."

  "Aye," said a grizzled voice as one of the others interrupted. "So many refugees have arrived that they are filling up the town. The captain says that soon we will have to start bringing families within the Citadel walls."

  "Exactly," said the lieutenant, showing irritation at being interrupted. "The captain has a good heart and believes in the Strictures, but that is not enough in these difficult days. It will take boldness, and while Pianna is no coward, she is not bold. The best way to protect the refugees is to stop them from being displaced." A murmur of agreement filled the room. "We must take the fight to the forest."

  The dead silence through Turg's ears told Laquatus that this extreme step was not popular. The lieutenant seemed to know that and quickly continued.

  "The prize that the rumors speak of I have with me," he said, opening his pouch. The thrill of power shook everyone in the room. Turg's camouflage flickered, but such was the group's fascination that no one saw. "The captain saw its strength but in blind obedience to the Strictures wants it destroyed. She would not consider using it and never held it. Touch it now," Kirtar said and laid it on the center of the table.

  Each bird warrior stroked it, and one and all were lost in some interior vision. Turg tensed as Laquatus wondered about attacking the gathering while they were stunned. But they shook off their bemusement, all except the lieutenant, with reluctance. Kirtar looked dissatisfied.

  "Once it filled the heart with peals of glory, but now it is only a ghost of what it was." Disbelief showed on the other faces. "I know what the problem is. I have let my own reluctance to use this power destroy the potential that originally resided in this prize. I can afford to wait no longer. The magic must be used, and we must take the Order in a new direction." The officer looked each warrior in the eyes in turn.

  "Tomorrow I will take the captain's place, and you must all act to support me when I do."

  Turg retreated as the members of the coup left.

  "Treachery, always a popular choice with subordinates," Laquatus mused as he directed his jack away from the plotters. This betrayal might be just what he needed.

  *****

  "There is no reason for these attacks, your Excellency," the captain said to Laquatus. The ambassador had begged an audience with Pianna, hoping to find some other angle to grasp advantage. Besides the excellent news of a power struggle within the Order, Laquatus had felt a whisper from the tresias stone during the night. An explorer had finally proved a path to the Citadel through the underground rivers. Further reinforcements followed to give Laquatus enough power to take action against the Order.

  The ambassador sent Turg below with the stone, telling

  Satas all that occurred and that he must bring soldiers as quickly as possible. It might be possible to pluck the prize right from the Order's fingers without any of the knights being the wiser. While he waited for the frog's return, he sat in the captain's office offering his services to the Order.

  "The lieutenant's incursion into the forest seemed to provoke even more of a response," she said as she showed the merman her intelligence maps.

  "I always believed that he might be exceeding his authority," Laquatus said in a sweet tone. He waited for a response to his overtures, but Pianna was looking at the map. Then she grabbed a set of reports and began rifling through them, checking something.

  "Yes, yes, yes," she cried out, relief plain on her face. "I couldn't see it before because we never put down the dates of the attacks." She grabbed up a pen and put a series of broad arrows on the map. She ignored the rattle of pins falling to the floor. "We never saw a focus to the attacks because the center pulling the attacks shifted over time. Kirtar was what the forest reacted to."

  "The lieutenant?" Laquatus said nonplussed. "He can be irritating but surel
y not to an entire forest. Do not give him credit for being more than he is."

  "Not the lieutenant," Pianna said. "It's that damn prize of his. He was awarded it where we saw the strongest attack, and the rest of them seem to be moving in his direction when he rode to the southern plains. We need to destroy that orb immediately."

  "I knew that would be your thinking," Kirtar said as he moved into the room. Laquatus could see the bird warriors lining up in the room beyond. "Anything that violates the Strictures must be destroyed."

  "It has nothing to do with the Strictures, Lieutenant," Pianna replied, drawing herself upright as she heard his insolent tone. "I believe your prize is what provokes the forest. There will be additional attacks in this direction even as we speak. We must destroy it or dispose of it immediately."

  "Get rid of it?" laughed Kirtar. "Even if I believed you, why would I want to throw it away?" He put his hand in his pouch and drew the orb forth. Its power once more struck the ambassador.

  "Anything that can rouse the entire forest can be used to tame it," Kirtar stated. "That is what the Order is dedicated to, is it not? Curing the world of its wildness and chaos?"

  The captain moved around the table, her face calm. "But what about the villages destroyed and the refugees made homeless as you search for a way to use the orb?" Pianna walked slowly toward the door and Kirtar. "As a knight, you took an oath to protect them." She raised her hand as if to pluck the orb from his oversized fist. Energy flared and coated her, locking her in place. Laquatus could see her expression slowly starting to change from determination to astonishment only to stop halfway through the shift.

  "Unlike you, I know it is sometimes necessary to make a sacrifice," Kirtar said as he retrieved Pianna's sword, her symbol of Order authority.

  Power poured from the orb. A growing mass of purest crystal shimmered into being as Laquatus stood, feeling for his soldiers below. The throb of ocean magic reassured him as the lieutenant turned his attention toward him. The orb's magic seemed to light up the bird warrior's features, and the ambassador bowed slightly as if to acknowledge the aven's superiority.

  "I trust there will be no problems, Laquatus."

  The merman nodded, thinking how he could take advantage. The power continued to grow, and the ambassador wondered if the lieutenant was preparing to destroy him. But Kirtar's look of victory changed to one of confusion and then fear. The crystal around the captain pulsed and began to grow, inching across the floor as the bird warrior gripped the orb tightly, concentration freezing his face.

  He seemed to collapse inward, panting. Cries sounded beyond the room. "Mutiny" and "Save the captain" could be heard as the lieutenant once more tried to force his spell to stop. He fell, and his supporters rushed into the room.

  "I can't control it!" he gushed, stricken with fear. The bird warriors looked at Laquatus, threats in their eyes, and one started toward him, murder plain in his face.

  "There is no time," another soldier exclaimed. The crystal grew faster, and the ambassador unconsciously retreated.

  "Let the spell take him!" With that they plucked the lieutenant up and retreated through the door.

  Laquatus tried to follow, but the crystal was already too close to the wall. The stone began to sparkle, and then it too was engulfed in crystal. The merman was trapped with no way out, the spell expanding in irregular spurts. He tripped over a chair, holding the seat out as if to halt the effect. The wooden legs froze in place well above the floor.

  "Turg," he called to below, "Captain Satas! Open a portal! Immediately!" He backed up against the wall. Could he cut his way through the stone? He was trying to raise power when he felt the tickle of the portal forming at his back. He fell through the wall screaming, "Close it! Close it now!"

  CHAPTER 16

  Once more Kamahl ran to a city, his legs pumping. But unlike the roads to city, Cabal people were everywhere, packing the trail to capacity. He threaded the crowds as he once threaded razor shards in the mountains during his training. The travelers were refugees from the western border's violence. Ever since he left the giant gecko, Emerald, he had run through despairing crowds. As he approached the Citadel, there were expressions of hope in the faces about him. However, the crush in front of the gates seemed to press out the travelers' optimism. The low wall surrounding the town was unguarded except for a frustrated soldier trying to direct the incoming traffic. He never saw the metal-hued barbarian with the great sword, his eyes nearly blind from staring at the constant flow of refugees.

  Running was impossible now, but Kamahl persevered. He shoved his way through the masses, aiming for the great castle on the hill. If there were guards in the city, they were lost in the crying crowds. It seemed the entire world tried to reach a place to eat or sleep. Large men with clubs stood before every inn.

  "There is no room, move on. Move on," they called to those trying to enter. The staves were not used except to prod the persistent away. Kamahl wondered how much longer that would be true.

  The road up the side of the hill was thick with people. A steady stream of Order uniforms came down to the town to help with the crowds. A few refugees struggled up the path, pressing on to the greater safety of the castle walls. Despite all their martial posturing, the Order compromised their defenses, so those on the road would not fail to find shelter.

  Kamahl continued through the multitudes, confident that he finally had his bearings in the narrow streets. He arrived at the bottom of the road and there tasted the ambassador's duplicity.

  "Hold!" a sentry cried. More guards converged on the mountain mage.

  "It is the barbarian!" yelled the corporal commanding the lower detachment. "Take no chances with him!"

  The people around Kamahl tried to retreat as the soldiers formed up, their spears still in the air as they jockeyed for room to maneuver. On the walls of the fortress above, the barbarian could see other soldiers drawing weapons. Should he try to lose himself in the crowd?

  He was sick of retreat, and if the prize were truly his, then he would fight for it. He threw his cloak back and revealed the armor and bracers on his wrists. Before he could give formal challenge, a guard raised a crossbow from behind the spear wall and discharged it.

  His hand threw out a line of fire, and he turned during the split second of the missile's flight. The flame ate through the bolt, withering the shaft and melting away the head. What was left of the cowardly attack shattered on his armored side. He looked at the detachment, his rage radiating in all directions. The refugees continued to retreat as far as they were able, the Order tensing for his response. He took gobs of wax from a pouch at his side and stuffed them in his ears. The cries of the crowd and whatever commands issued from the corporal were cut off.

  Knowing that false accusations might be made against him, Kamahl was prepared to batter his opponents into submission. Tiny black globes flew from his hands and began to detonate. The explosions occurred well in front of the spearmen, but the concussions spilled them back with each throw. The barbarian quickly glanced up the road. No reinforcements coming yet.

  Another bolt came at him, but his magic was fully energized, and it seemed to dissipate in midair. Kamahl threw more globes, and these exploded inside the enemy ranks. Soldiers tumbled to the sides, deafened by the noise. The crossbowman lay on the ground, his entire body bruised from the close detonation.

  Kamahl watched his back, but the tight press of refugees prevented guards from getting through. Signs of panic were everywhere as civilians tried to flee, and the mass of onlookers crippled the Order's response as surely as it manacled Kamahl's own actions. The barbarian started up the road.

  He jogged, his footfalls thudding in his ears as he passed people cowering on the road's surface. A man bellowed, and Kamahl thought he heard, "The forest, the forest," but he swept by before he could be sure. If the town believed there was an attack from the west, the mountain mage was in no hurry to correct them.

  Even through the wax he could hear cries, b
ut none seemed to mention him. He slowed and twitched his trailing cloak back over his gear. The hilt of his sword peeking over his shoulder proclaimed to all that he was no helpless refugee, but perhaps the guards at the gate were as confused as those in the town. He spared a look behind him. A wave of people was coming up from the city. The jostling masses had no idea what was going on, and he realized they sought the safety of the castle.

  Even at his reduced pace he reached the gates well before the refugees from below. The passageway through the defenses was unbarred, and he carefully walked through. He dug the wax from one ear, the cries of the crowd behind him echoing off the stone walls. He moved farther into the Citadel, ready to wrap himself in flame, but there was no one. He turned a blind corner into the courtyard.

  There he found the Order. They fought among themselves. Bands of knights and men-at-arms squared off. A few bird warriors stood before the combatants, wrapped in magical armor. Glowing like the sun, they called for peace, but appeals for discipline were useless. The bands of soldiers met in hand-to-hand combat. Flesh and fists reinforced by mystic will assailed foes wearing a shared livery. Bones shattered, and the fallen were dragged free without regard for allegiance by the Order's healers.

  The combatants bludgeoned each other but abstained from plying their blades. Only their open hands were enhanced. The Citadel made war upon itself, but a brotherhood of centuries could not be overturned in a single day.

  Individual soldiers began to come at Kamahl. He drew his sword and slapped the fighters away. He advanced along the courtyard's edge, careful to use the flat of his blade. The roar of explosives would unite the fighters and would surely bring them against him. He circled, aiming for the central keep. He knew in his bones that Kirtar would be at the center of this struggle.