Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams

by Scott Rhine

  “He’s trying to divide the defenders. There aren’t enough of us to be everywhere. The few constables and civilian volunteers we have won’t stop the longboats,” said Ashford.

  “Send Vinspar’s men to put out fires. They can do that without weapons. Take Frond’s patrols, the cadets who survived, and every spirit mage you can out to the invasion point. Harass and delay. If we capture Sandarac, the invaders won’t set foot on our shores.”

  “The golden crescent has separated, and it’s skimming over the water faster than a bird!”

  Another student reported, “The Elegance made a hole in the flagship! She’s foundering. The Rebirth is going down.”

  The cheer that went up in the command center was deafening.

  “Survivors?” asked Duwara.

  “A few. Some are moving toward the enemy flagship. I see an oilskin, sir.”

  “That’s my consort,” crowed Pagaose.

  “Komiko’s got bigger balls than Pangborn,” joked Ashford.

  Everyone waited tensely. Pagaose gripped Corrie’s hand, and Ashford noticed.

  “The Third Doom is in the harbor. The shield is down!” announced Vapordoom.

  “Now,” hissed Pagaose. He heard a humming sound, a pure note that reminded Pagaose of a finger on the rim of a wineglass. He felt the Door resonate as the energy level built. Many voices joined the leader of the Chorus. Surely he wasn’t the only one hearing this. Only one student stood up from his telescope. “The golden crescent is swooping toward the Doom. The device is made of eight segments. Standing behind each arc segment is a person in golden armor. Someone is riding in the cusp of the crescent.”

  Looking through his own telescope, Vapordoom muttered, “The man in the middle is carrying a wooly goat on his back.”

  “No. He is a goat,” the emperor corrected. The vibrations shook his chest. “Watch the Doom.”

  The windows on the sides of the observatory rattled in the thunderclap that followed.

  “Gentlemen, that was the Scythe, the secret weapon in the arsenal of Archanos.”

  “Gods! Men were thrown from the deck. Nothing is standing on the Doom.” Vapordoom seemed sorry for the enemy.

  Corrie sat up, pale. Pagaose stroked her hair and soothed her as she chanted. “They’re dead. So many. Screams.” Her breath sounded like the footfalls of a sprinter.

  He handed her the fox from its bed cushion and said, “Your part is done now, milady. I’m sorry you had to see that. You may want to return to your chambers for the rest of this. It’s going to get worse.”

  Lord Ashford signaled two of his men to escort the lady away. He whispered something in one’s ear.

  As she departed, Pagaose said, “More will be up on deck soon. Have our boats board them as soon as possible.”

  “Lady of the Deep is sailing to intercept our Greens. It’s launching fireballs . . . the fire veered aside!”

  Pagaose smiled. “Pinetto. That, milords, is what a dean should be. That’s why he earned a council seat.”

  “Hear, hear!” said Duwara.

  “They’re aiming the Roseate Lens at the golden crescent. I can see the pre-flash. Gods, something swooped out of the sky to intervene—the dragon. She’s wounded badly, spiraling into the water.”

  “Serog,” murmured the emperor.

  “Why would they shoot her?”

  “They didn’t mean to. She chose to intervene, to save one of her daughters from another. I hope she survives.” When one of the guards raised an eyebrow, he explained, “She’s the best enemy I’ve ever had.” He felt the buildup of the Chorus again. “Target?”

  “The crescent just swept the deck of the Rebirth. There was a monkey in the middle this time. The fire crews for the lens are dead, as is everything else in the top half of the flagship.”

  “It’s almost dark; they shouldn’t be able to fire the lens again.”

  Once more, the College applauded.

  “The crescent is going back to reengage the Doom. Our small craft are almost there to finish the task.”

  “What do we do?” asked Pangborn.

  Pagaose shrugged. “It’s out of my hands now, gentlemen. What’s left belongs to history.”

  ****

  Niftkin climbed out of the water, exhausted. The silence on the deck of the Rebirth was eerie. A cool breeze made him shiver. The archer beside him asked, “What do we do now, lord?”

  The title confused Niftkin for a moment, and he looked over his shoulder for another noble. Then he remembered his new rank. “We take advantage of the lull and capture the flag.”

  “Is that honorable? We haven’t taken the Pretender yet.”

  “It saves lives on both sides. What could be more honorable?”

  Niftkin unwrapped his sword while the archers formed a perimeter around him. Only two still had working weapons, but they were able to scavenge as much as they wanted from the dead soldiers scattered everywhere.

  “They’re bleeding from the ears, lord,” said one archer.

  “Hush. Listen for the living.” One man in a pile of bodies stirred and, seeing the man’s agonized face, Niftkin used his sword out of mercy. Three times on the way to the mast, the enemy challenged them. He only had to swing the One True Sword once. Men ran the other way when they saw the man’s top half separate from his bottom by the force of the magic blade. Clearly, the sword had accepted him as wielder.

  Without apparent effort, Niftkin sliced through lines holding the northerners’ dragon-and-crown flag. As he waved it toward the yachts that were now swarming the area, the people of Center cheered. A lone arrow from above hit Niftkin in his scabbard leg. His men silenced the enemy archer as the commander sat to inspect his wound. The oilcloth had taken the brunt of the assault. The wound in his flesh was long but not too deep. He used the bright strips of the torn rain cloak to bind the gash closed.

  As friendly irregulars rushed onboard, one of his archers commented, “I think we’re sinking, Lord Niftkin.”

  “Aye, that happens to every ship I’m on. Get used to it.”

  “Shall we take the flag back to the emperor, lord?”

  “Hell, no. We have a mission to complete. Find Sandarac’s cabin.”

  “That would be the one with the big windows in the aft.”

  “Men of Center, to me,” Niftkin shouted, praying he’d be able to stand and not go into shock.

  He was startled when a cluster of fireballs struck the golden crescent, blowing one end off the huge artifact. Another one of the demons died. Black clouds billowed from the deck of the Lady of the Deep. “Not my battle,” he muttered, using the mast to rise. An archer held up his left side and together, they made it to the emperor’s cabin.

  The door was reinforced metal with every known glyph and ward decorating the surface. Drawing in a shaky breath, Niftkin shouted, “Surrender or die!”

  A voice from inside the room said, “You’ll never get in!”

  Niftkin put his blade in the crack of the door and pushed. The handle heated in his hand as he dragged it upward. When he’d sheered through the last hinge, the door fell into the lavish bedchamber. Sitting on the floor with a model of Center around him was a man in a black cape and an iron crown. He had marked every attack point with red chalk.

  Sandarac swallowed hard. He only had three guards left, and the halls were brimming with angry sailors from the city he’d just torched. “Pagaose mentioned something about a deal where I’d rule the western half of his empire.”

  “That ship,” said Niftkin, “has sailed.” He ducked back and let the archers do their duty. When the last defender fell, he strode forward and beheaded the Pretender with a blade that glowed. “That’s for Ember.”

  He wrapped the head in the flag and announced to the others, “Tell the men on the other ships that Sandarac is dead. Long live Emperor Pagaose.”

  Chapter 52 – Old Business

  On Starday, Pinetto stood before the College of Wizards in the palace council chambers as he summari
zed the naval battle. “After we neutralized the fire mages with smoke, the Chorus managed to reform. Between the Elegance team taking the flagship, the arkies terrorizing the invaders from the Pride of Fireton, and one more pounding from the Scythe, the enemy surrendered. Lady Komiko and Lord Niftkin are recovering upstairs. We’ve already dispatched the Greens and the arkies to inform the other islands and mop up any resistance.”

  “What about Humi?” asked Pagaose.

  “We’ve sent a courier. Sarajah said that Serog could reason with her, but we can’t find any trace of the dragon.”

  “What else does Queen Sarajah say?”

  “She returned to the Crooked Isle with Ashterah and the Scythe. They lost five of the thirteen demons.” He didn’t mention the side trip to meet Archanos. Ashterah wanted to be reunited with her husband. Sarajah was needed to wear the eighth suit of armor in the goddess’ place so the Scythe could make the journey back to the armory.

  “You’re not returning with her?”

  “The . . . heat in the Outer Islands isn’t to my liking.” Pinetto replied. “I much prefer the welcome of Kiateros.”

  “Indeed,” the emperor said with a grin. “We have given you leave to return for the birth of your child once the Festival is complete. Any diplomatic messages for me?”

  Pinetto passed over a page from ‘the Song of Serog’ with a hastily scrawled note on the back. “She has offered to join his majesty’s empire in exchange for her rule of the plague-lands. She also wishes the return of the Crooked Isle from Zanzibos as part of the war reparations.”

  Pagaose nodded. “I concur. Any opposed?”

  The judge councilman noted, “That’s a lot of territory, sire.”

  “And even more work rebuilding. Do you want to do it?”

  “No, sire.”

  “Motion passes. Any other old business?”

  The judge slid over a sealed document. “In view of evidence submitted by Lady Komiko and Lady Corrie’s meritorious service in the war effort, the high court clears Lady Evershade of all wrongdoing and restores her title.”

  “Thank you,” the emperor said, accepting the judgment. “I will have her family honor returned.”

  Pinetto interjected, “Where is she? Queen Sarajah left a gift for her that I was supposed to deliver.”

  “Out of order,” the judge said, banging.

  Pagaose said, “This is his first council meeting. We should grant a little leeway to the man we just decorated as a hero. We’ll find her soon. I’m sure she’s just catching up on some much-deserved rest. Other old business?”

  Lord Pangborn sighed. He’d drawn the short straw to raise this issue. “The Spring Festival is still scheduled for Sunday. Lady Anna has enrolled another twenty women with the influx of Reneau Imperial officers, mainly widows and slightly older, unmarried candidates. We won’t have room for it on the dueling grounds anymore.”

  The emperor closed his eyes. “No. Having it there would be wrong—too much death for a celebration of life.”

  “I recommend the Osos memorial,” said Pangborn. On a reef that could be reached inside an hour, the memorial symbol marked the location immediately under the Compass Star. Open to the sky, the holy site was covered by a large, round platform so that hundreds could pay their respects to Osos at one time.

  Ashford nodded. “The yachts can tie off there and make the party space bigger. Seconded.”

  “It’ll give people a chance to get off the island and see the beautiful weather. We’ve all been cooped up here too long,” said the judge. “Opposed?”

  The emperor rubbed his forehead. “Do I have to go?”

  Every other man at the table said, “Yes.”

  The judge tapped his gavel. “Carried. New business?”

  Pagaose said, “Whereas we need a new abbot for Muro, I nominate my chief scribe as replacement. This doesn’t need council approval, but I wanted his meritorious service entered in the record.”

  “So noted.”

  The judge raised his hand. “Point of law: the murder of a priest of Osos is a capital offense. We should write out a warrant for Navarra’s arrest and any other soldier present. There were over sixteen such murders.”

  Lord Pangborn scoffed. “What about the rule of Archanos? Everyone gets a second chance.”

  Pagaose said, “A compromise: we pardon the soldiers if they bring me the staffs of three fire mages for every priest of Osos and thirty for the abbot.”

  “I’m not sure there are that many fire mages left,” said a clerk doing the math.

  “It’s a fair chance and solves several problems, including prison overcrowding,” said the judge.

  “I also need a new yacht to take to the Dance,” Pagaose said. “Niftkin sort of made my last one into a fish habitat.”

  Ashford chuckled. “I’m fresh out.”

  No one in the College wanted to pay for a new yacht for one event. Finally, the judge suggested, “The quarters on Lady of the Deep appeared luxurious enough. It would also provide a measure of security.”

  “Seconded.”

  “Show of hands. Carried. Next item.”

  Pinetto cleared his throat. “Several kegs of Lady Anna’s Peach Ale survived the burning.”

  Lord Sulfur volunteered, “I’ve sampled some. It’s quite good. Smooth is an understatement.”

  “Since this ale was brewed in honor of choosing the new empress,” Pinetto continued, watching the emperor for signs of displeasure, “she formally requests to use the name ‘Empress Ale’.”

  “Have my herald come in.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Anna approached Pagaose. He said, “Had you the name of empress, you could name the ale anything you pleased.”

  “Sire, may I speak freely?”

  “Always.”

  She sighed. “You’ve chosen a more violent path than my nature can abide. A wife should support her husband in all things.” She faced the floor. “I understand you need to do terrible things to save lives, but I can’t watch you do them.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I wish to follow Lord Pinetto back to Kiateros. I own a brewery there now, and he has offered me the wing of his mansion once occupied by Queen Sarajah.”

  Pagaose stared at her for a long while. His voice cracked as he said, “You have been a faithful herald. I award you the name for your brew here and in Kiateros as well, so that my subjects will know of your value. You may depart after you fulfill your role as Dance chaperone.” He waved a hand to dismiss her.

  He looked about to say something more, but Lord Vapordoom interrupted. “Managing the fire brigades from the observatory worked rather well during the crisis. I think we should discuss making a permanent improvement of this nature.”

  Anna walked out, ignored by the debate that had transformed the succession war into the everyday.

  ****

  Serog lay on the deck of the barge, held down by chains made of black glass. “Please, feed me, daughter,” she begged. Wisps of smoke wafted up where the sunlight melted her.

  Humi paced, her prominent stomach telling all about her advanced pregnancy. “You let them kill my husband.”

  “I am injured. I don’t have a body in the Halls of Eternity. If I perish—”

  “Then you’ll do what I say!” the empress of the north shrieked. “Are you listening?”

  “I can hear the whisper of your need across the sea, child.”

  “Silence. Yes or no answers.”

  The dragoness closed her eyes.

  “Can I extract a vow from you in exchange for freeing you?”

  “Yes.”

  “If Pagaose dies now, would the College support my child?”

  “Likely. He’s named you as concubine as he promised me.”

  Humi beat the dragon with a whip tipped in sesterina. The tip hissed and left scratches in the sunlight. When she was done venting, Humi repeated, “Yes or no. Can you travel as a spirit like my servant Tumberlin did?”


  “Yes.”

  “In daylight?”

  “No.”

  Humi smiled, stroking the whip handle. “Will you honor the oaths written in your holy books?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I want you to finish what you started. If you want your body back, travel to Center, consume Pagaose’s heart, and dance on his grave.”

  “Yes.”

  “Cover her up,” Humi ordered. “She’s starting to stink.”

  Chapter 53 – The Dance of the Virgins

  On the night before the Dance celebration, Corrie sat on the balcony of the new lighthouse, the most isolated spot in Center, where no one would hear her scream. The drugs Ashford fed her were supposed to keep her unconscious, but she’d developed a resistance from her own drug habit over the past few months. She clenched the bird figurine around her neck with one hand as she petted the fox with her other. “Maybe I should kill myself, Kitten.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  So drugged that she didn’t wonder at the fox’s speech, Corrie answered, “Because otherwise, mean men will hold me hostage to make the emperor do terrible things. I wish they’d kidnapped me after the courts returned my family Honor. I could’ve stabbed myself quickly. I’m just worried that the fall to those rocks won’t kill me right away. It’s going to hurt, Kitten.”

  “You’re very brave.”

  “I’m a lady of the first circle,” she said, finally noticing that the fox was asleep on her lap. “Who said that?” She rose and crept into the room. In the cracked mirror beside her bed, Corrie saw a woman in mourning white with a huge bloodstain spreading across her abdomen. Was this what she would become if she committed suicide?

  “You wear my jewelry. The day has come for me to reclaim it.”

  “No, please. I’ll do anything to keep it. The figurine is all I have to remind me of Pagose.”

  The woman in white makeup tilted her head. “He loves you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me,” said the mirror.

  “He loves me in dreams.”

  “Yes.”

  “If only I could get out of here,” said Corrie.