Mandala's Catalyst (Gardone Trilogy)

by Warren R. Henke

  The boy took a deep breath and swallowed. “We have to stop these murderers. Keep an eye out and report anything unusual.”

  “I will, thanks. My name is Tor,” Horvold said, and extended his hand.

  “Mirrin,” the boy said, and shook.

  “Mirrin, my friend, be well.”

  Horvold watched him walk away. The city was full of good people like Mirrin, people who love and care about each other; good people deceived by the one person they trust for leadership. How had the Guide tricked an entire nation? What if the boy had attacked? It wouldn’t have been a battle of good verses evil, it was good verses good. And although he’d prefer to lay down his own life rather than take another, he couldn’t. That type of mentality would destroy the Resistance. He had to live to give the Resistance a chance to triumph. And that meant he may have to take the lives of good men or in this case, boys not even old enough for facial hair. He felt sick.

  He continued his walk back into the city. As he approached the inner city walls, a sudden warmth spread across his thigh. He looked down at the small pouch hanging from his belt as chills ran through his body. He pulled it loose, untied the leather strap, and tipped the pouch. The soul orb rolled into his hand. It was crimson. The safety of sector C had been compromised. One of his trusted companions had broken the vow of secrecy.

  He gripped the orb and the veins on his arms popped to the surface. He frowned and threw it to the ground where it popped and shattered. Now he couldn’t walk freely through the streets. He ducked into a back alley and hid in the shadows while he thought. He could run away. It would be easy to escape the city from where he was now. But that would mean abandoning Endell and under no circumstance could he chance Endell’s talents falling under the cunning manipulation of the Guide. Somebody had betrayed them and he had to assume the worst: Endell was in danger, the hideout exposed, and his own identity compromised.

  He detoured through the alleys. It wasn’t Trask. He was part of a different sector and had sworn on another orb. Len, China, or Rudolfo might have been caught and tortured or their loved ones threatened. But even then, it was difficult to imagine they would break because of physical torture. And there couldn’t have been time for the Guide to use magical means to make them talk.

  Perhaps the Guide had threatened Endell’s family. He had much at stake, with his mother banished and his father on the Guide’s wanted list. But Endell had seen the dark powers of the Guide; he wouldn’t betray them would he? And what of the others? 6 knew the location to his hideout where Endell slept. They were all good people. He couldn’t imagine any were traitors like Knudson. But somebody had been pressured to talk. Maybe an ignorant family member had exposed them. Regardless, sector C was no more.

  He kept to the shadows and weaved through the cramped living conditions of urban Gardone. He moved with patience, listening and watching closely. Guards might be waiting at the hideout. He stepped into the open, ankle-deep sewer, almost there now.

  A pulse from the ground vibrated his feet; somebody was running towards him. He slipped into a side passage and hid among the garbage and waste. Feet splashed in the sewage alley and he expected the runner to continue past. But the spattering footsteps stopped and a dark figure turned into his narrow walkway. Horvold held his breath and the figure moved past him, then stopped.

  After a pause, the stranger took a step backward and Horvold felt the ground pulse again, more people coming. Suddenly, Horvold recognized the stranger and understood the situation. He grabbed Endell — one hand around his mouth and the other around his waist — and pulled him down, flat on the ground in the shadows. Sharp pain shot through his hand and warm blood spilt from his fingers as teeth sank into his flesh. Horvold clenched his jaw to surpass the pain and wrapped his legs around Endell’s lower body to keep him still. A guard rounded the corner and didn’t slow as he ran past. A second turned into their corridor and nearly stepped on Endell’s head as he followed the first out into the street.

  Endell stopped struggling and the teeth withdrew from Horvold’s fingers. The guards in the street yelled for help.

  He whispered into Endell’s ear. “It’s Horvold, don’t make a sound.”

  He loosened his grip and with his good hand, grabbed his aching fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” Endell gurgled and spat blood from his mouth.

  “Shh…” Horvold closed his eyes and listened. He could hear and feel movement all around them. Another guard turned the corner, and stopped; his muddy boot resting on Horvold’s already tortured little finger.

  Horvold breathed deep and slow. Endell’s entire body pulsed from a rapid heartbeat and Horvold held him tight. Another task for the trip, teach the boy how to relax and stay calm.

  A sudden stream of warm liquid pelted Horvold’s face. He clenched his eyes and mouth shut as the guard relieved himself. Fortunately Endell too remained quiet and motionless as they were showered with the soldier’s filth.

  More footsteps. Horvold opened his eyes and they burned. A set of boots were planted right next to his nose.

  “They aren’t here, probably never were,” said a voice above them.

  A different voice answered, “Keep the watch heavy in this area. I’ll go report it.”

  The warm shower ended and the guards left in separate directions. When everything was silent, Horvold and Endell wiped the fluid from their eyes, mouth, and nose.

  “We’ll stay until dark,” Horvold whispered.

  Guards came and went for several hours. Motionless, silent, and itchy, they waited. The guards didn’t find them, but the flies did. To stay quiet, he had to let them crawl on his face and, sometimes, in his nose and ears. Eventually, the sun dimmed and disappeared, as did the guards.

  Horvold put his mouth close to Endell’s ear, “Let’s go, don’t make a sound. If anyone approaches, I’ll pull you into hiding. Just don’t bite me again.”

  Endell nodded and climbed to his feet. Once on their feet, Horvold closed his eyes, listening and feeling for any movement. All was still and they crept out of the inner city, staying in the shadows until they were out of the city. Then it was a quick easy route to Rudolfo’s house.

  * * * “You called?”

  Knudson turned from the edge of the balcony where he had been watching the marketplace below. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Trask, yes. The Guide would like a word with you.”

  “The Guide?” Trask said with hesitation.

  “Gorath mentioned that you often take the banished alone to the wall while the others wait at the door for your return.”

  He watched Trasks eyes, he didn’t see betrayal in them. But not that he expected to, Trask was one of the most noble men he knew.

  “Yes,” Trask said. “That is true. The other guards can be violent and ruthless. They have beaten men to death before we even reached the wall and our orders have always been to leave them alive.”

  “Why haven’t you told me this before?” Knudson asked.

  “I understand the anger the soldiers feel for these traitors. The authorization to use force is meant for emergencies, but they seem to look for reasons to harm the prisoners. I believe it’s driven by their love for Gardone and didn’t want to see them punished.”

  “What about you, Trask? Don’t you feel hatred towards these traitors?”

  “Yes, but I have orders not to harm them unless necessary and rarely have I found it necessary.”

  Knudson nodded. “I understand but the Guide is not pleased. I think if you explain yourself he will let it go. Just be warned, the events today have really shaken him. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “I understand.”

  Knudson doubted Trask understood, but it would be out of line to explain further. “Let me know what the Guide says and does…make sure I am informed if he decides that there will be a punishment for this.”

  “I will,” Trask nodded.

  “You’re a good man, Trask,” Knudson put a hand on Trask�
��s shoulder. Although he’d never spoken it, Trask was the son he’d never had. He’d always expected Trask would one day take his place as head of the guard. “Come and see me when you are finished.”

  Trask nodded and walked back into the castle.

  Knudson hit the rail with his fist. This didn’t feel right. He was trying to do his duties, to be strong and stick to the guidelines but the past two days had turned him inside out. I am the leader, I cannot have these feelings. He breathed deeply.

  He looked out at the city to the thousands of people relying on his protection. They are my responsibility. I do it for them. But was it just an excuse to ignore the truth? Tari flashed through his mind, her face streaked with tears and blood, her eyes begging for mercy. He saw his hand come down, again, hard across her face. What have I become?

  Knudson frowned, shut his eyes, and slammed his fist again onto the balcony. These were good people. Tari, Jasper, Jewell, Gareth were just a few he’d sent to their deaths. But they were traitors, weren’t they? He looked at the dark hole in the marketplace below. Their ideals may have threatened Gardone, but they weren’t murders. The people he had met in the Resistance would never have done this. Sure, they rebelled, questioned authority, and threatened the stability of Gardone…but not this. Although he’d always supported the Guide, he hadn’t always agreed with him. Something always seemed wrong about secretly banishing so many people, but at the same time, he understood the need to keep the nation united and avoid a return to war.

  He needed to speak with the Guide. The Guide always helped him understand and put things into perspective, and right now he needed help understanding. He walked off the balcony and down the long hallway to the Guide’s chambers. Because of the extensive patrols throughout the city, the two guards normally stationed at the Guide’s door were not present. It was slightly open and he heard yelling from inside.

  “I don’t care what I told you, I have never stopped you or anyone from harming the prisoners.”

  The Guide was yelling? And not just yelling, but full of rage. Knudson froze, shocked to hear such a cruel tone. Trask started to speak and was silenced with the crack of a slap. This was too much, Knudson pushed open the door.

  The Guide’s face was dripping with sweat. His hair flew as he spun his head and faced Knudson. “Get out.”

  Trask stood at attention, arms at his side and face bloody and bruised.

  “What is wrong with you?” Knudson asked the Guide.

  The Guide glared at him with black and beady eyes. “Knudson, turn around and walk out of this room right now while I deal with this traitor. This evil has tried to destroy our peaceful lives…he is a menace.”

  The Guide hit Trask in the face with a closed fist and Trask’s head spun to the left, flinging a stream of blood from his mouth which spackled the wall.

  Trask spit a mouthful of blood and stood tall. “I understand your concerns and I assure you, I am not a member of the Resistance. I am loyal to Gardone.”

  Trask was Resistence; he had to be. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. Maybe Trask was even in the meetings years ago when he had infiltrated them. And if so, he would know of the betrayal. It hurt to think that Trask might know that he was reason so many good people had perished. And now Trask himself was going to be murdered by the Guide. And it was murder, not punishment for treason. It was always murder. How could he have been so foolish? What happened today was not caused by the Resistance. It was all too much; his regrets for the past, the explosion, and the Guide’s strange behavior. The Guide was out of line. He drew his sword and pointed it at the Guide.

  “Let him go,” he said.

  There was a ring of sliding metal and Knudson’s sword flew across the room. Trask had drawn his own sword and now held it against Knudson’s throat.

  “You?” The Guide said to Knudson. “You are the traitor?”

  “You are the traitor!” Knudson screamed, feeling the tip of Trask’s sword on his neck. He rolled his eyes to Trask, “He’s going to kill you, Trask. I can’t allow it. Too many good people have died because of his deception.”

  “So it is you. Did the Resistance win you over or did you always believe in their cause? Is that why we couldn’t find Char? You turned a few names over to appear loyal but the truth is you were always one of them.”

  “Yes, I was always one of them,” Knudson said. He stood and glared at the Guide. “They would never have attacked innocent people, I know that wasn’t them.”

  “Kill him,” the Guide said. “Kill him to prove your loyalty to me.”

  Trask turned and faced Knudson, his back to the Guide, then put his arm on Knudson’s shoulder and lifted his other arm high behind his back as he rested his sword on Knudsen’s chest.

  “I gave you everything—” the Guide yelled, and continued to berate Knudson.

  During the tirade, Trask leaned in close and whispered, “what are you doing?”

  “Tell Char I am sorry, I was wrong. I thought I was doing what was best for Gardone.”

  “You couldn’t have killed him, he’s too powerful,” Trask said.

  “I know, I expected you to stop me. You have to kill me to keep your cover, it’s the only way. He would have killed you. You deserve to live, I don’t.”

  Trask’s eyes flashed pain and compassion. “You have been the father I never had. I won’t kill you.”

  “—Kill him, Trask. Kill him now.” The Guide fell silent.

  Knudsen reached up, where the Guide couldn’t see, and grabbed the hilt of Trask’s sword. “Don’t let me die in vain. Be well, Trask. I am proud to have known you.” He pulled and the sword slid through his chest. The sting was instant and he struggled against the pain to take another breath. He looked one last time at Trask.

  “I set them free. They are alive on the other side. You didn’t kill them,” Trask said.

  He tried to speak, but gurgled as blood trickled out of his mouth. He could only smile, hopefully this last message for Trask conveyed his love and affection. Trask was safe and the Resistance would live on. He had atoned for his evil and finally done the right thing. The world faded and the burning in his chest vanished. He saw a bright light and it beckoned to him. His body filled with love and peace and he released everything: fears, hopes, dreams…and the light took him.

  Chapter 18

  Enlightenment

  Jasper sat back far enough from the edge of the cliff that he couldn’t see the gruesome valley. He’d looked down once, he wouldn’t again. It was a slaughter; blood streaked the rocks all the way to the river. It didn’t matter it was from two of the most ruthless guards he knew. The fact that he played a part in their death gnawed at the darkest recesses of his mind, where he tried to keep the memory buried. He couldn’t add his role in the death of another human being to his mounting confusion. So he positioned himself where he could only see the forest, the trail, and the mountains.

  He wasn’t in the same spot on the cliffs where he had been that morning. He was closer to the river this time, looking straight up the trail at the looming mountain that stopped them from returning to Gardone. A bow and several arrows lay hidden in the brush next to him and he softly touched the sharp flint arrowheads and imagined them zipping at lightning speed. He slid his fingers across the fletching, pressing the feathers down and watching them snap back into position. He was sure everyone else had a notched arrow ready to fly and would have loved to try, but he had never shot a bow and arrow and didn’t want to look foolish.

  Jewell had divided them into three pairs: Rheno and Kris were somewhere in the dense, green forest below and Jewell took Trina up the wash to get closer to the trail. A short distance away Yakoh sat motionless in the brush. The two of them watched from the southern cliffs.

  “Marchello,” a voice yelled from the forest.

  They were getting close. Who were they bringing this time. Father? He was with the Resistance, so it was possible.

  “Marchello? Are you there?”

&n
bsp; The yell was louder now and he saw movement in the trees. Two guards walked into the clearing and froze. Their heads turned slowly as their eyes followed the bloody trail to the river. Then they looked at each other and ran back into the trees.

  Jasper’s heart raced. He waited, anxious and eager but nothing happened. Where were they? He kept glancing at Yakoh, waiting for instructions. Yakoh didn’t budge so neither did he. It wasn’t until the shadow from the west crept up from behind that Yakoh stirred. He motioned for Jasper to follow and disappeared down the back hillside. Jasper jumped to his feet and hurried down to the wash where Yakoh and Jewell were talking near the stream.

  “Jasper, I’m sending Kris back to update the others,” Jewell said. “Come with me to check on Shad, then we’ll head back to camp. Yakoh, Rheno, and Shad are going to keep watch through the night.”

  Yakoh turned and headed back up the hill, winking at Jasper. Jasper grinned and nodded back. He watched Yakoh run back up the hill and turned to Jewell.

  “Where did those guards go?” he asked.

  “There were only two. I think they were just looking for Marchello and must have been terrified. They ran back to the door and slammed it shut behind them.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “We wait. Hopefully they think the dark ones jumped Marchello and the others.” She took several steps, and then stopped. “You don’t have to come with me, you can head back to camp if you want. I want to check on Shad.”

  He shook his head, “No…yes…I mean…I’d like to go with you.”

  She started walking up the wash and he followed.

  “The guards have never left the trail into the next valley. As long as we stay low and quiet we can move around and watch them without worrying they’ll see us. Even when the dark ones come across the river, they only go to the cliffs and then right back to the other side. We are safe here.”

  They hiked up the wash in silence. Other than a few birds singing, the only sound was the sand crunching underfoot, twigs snapping as branches brushed against them, and an occasional displaced rock. Eventually, the forest closed in on them and the sun fell below the mountains. The sandy bank vanished and Jewell stepped into the stream.