Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (55 page)

In the moment of awed silence that followed, the lone wizard shouted, “Our boatmen are coming. Surrender or die!”

The Intaglians, already demoralized and terrified, broke ranks and fled. Tashi sustained his worst injuries of the day as he was trampled by the horde. Since his back armor was so heavy, he flipped belly up like a turtle on the uneven ground. Several people stepped on his limbs, bending one leg backward.

The troll and the panther rushed to his side. “After all that,” Tashi moaned. “I broke my leg in a rout.” As he tried to stand, his left elbow gave out. “And arm. Next time, I’ll ask her to design the joints better.”

They were celebrating for a moment when the armadillo’s chest burst. Standing over the body, now visible, was the six-armed fury from the cave. Eutheron stood four paces from Pinetto, inside his wards. He had no weapons remaining. “
I told you I’d eat you last.
”

The wizard grabbed the last pinch of Emperor’s Sand and empowered it. The monster charged him like a bull. Baran Togg growled and intercepted her. The force knocked the smith to the rocky ground. However, Pinetto distracted her before she could take advantage. He tossed molten glass at the creature’s head. This time, however, she ducked. The former goddess clucked her tongue. “Fool me once . . .”

Someone invisible whispered to Baran, “Chest plate.”

The sword forged by Kiateros darted upward, ripping open the beast’s chest armor like a cocoon. Her green-tinted breasts were exposed, as was an amorphous, black stone, caged by a helix of silver metal.

The object of her rage shifted. The scratch in her abdomen knitted rapidly like before, but the armor remained broken. He swung for the breach, but her bottom-left arm blocked his sword arm and held it fast. Her bottom-right arm grabbed him under his shirt of mail.

Eutheron held him there, savoring the smell of his fear and recovering her strength. She gripped his head with her top two hands, forcing him to watch. “This is going to hurt.”

She clawed upward, cleaving his armor open in the same way he had hers. But his stomach injury didn’t heal. Blood sprayed out over her front. That’s when her smile changed. She screamed as the liquid burned her, releasing him from her lower hands.

Archanos ripped the amulet from her chest as he materialized. His right hand hissed and smoldered at the contact, but he clenched it tight. The artifact tried to return to its master, but he used all of his power to constrain the writhing stone. He wanted to gloat over her, the one who he’d been plotting against all those years in hell. He’d figured out where she got her healing from—a portable gate. But without it, she was mortal. Even with his magical arts, the helix began to bore through the flesh of his palm. It would bend the universe to be with her again.

“
Now
!” shouted the archfiend.

Seeing white spots from blood loss, the smith let the sword of Kiateros use him one last time. The Defender thrust through her heart as she closed her hands around his skull. They died together in that embrace. When the demoness passed, the artifact stopped struggling. It accepted Archanos, the victor, and healed its new owner. The shape of the helix became permanently lodged in his hand.

He knelt beside the smith and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry. You were the last evidence of the Traveler. No trace of him could remain to bind him here, but you will be mourned.”

White fire erupted from the ground, consuming all evidence of the gods except the sword. The ashes turned to a brown metal puddle the size of a cemetery plaque. With his own finger, Archanos wrote the epitaph on the plaque. “The Last Messenger who will ever be slew the only daughter of Osos.”

Then he plunged the blade though the plaque and into the bedrock above the last line:

“All hail the fallen.”

The spirit folk lifted Legato’s wagon over the rock fall and bid them farewell at the border. Tashi and Pinetto had to ride the wagon to reach the great lake. Taking a ferry fr
om there, Legato and his new advisors reached the capital city of Kiateros. Word of the king’s restoration spread like wildfire. Legato had a second coronation for the sake of the masses and was crowned by the priests of the Forge.

As his first official act, Legato rewarded his advisors with those things the god Kiateros had promised, including a sesterina-plated torc for Sarajah. The ancient palace of Therak Umnarfor became the official residence of ambassadors and royal advisors.

Over the coming weeks, the king grew thinner with his added responsibilities. Brent and Simon patched the leaky roof in their ancient home, working in silence as they mourned. Sajika and Pinetto dedicated a sacred grove to Bablios and disvered they were pregnant.

Once Tashi was alone with the seeress, he found out that his rocky hide and increased strength made any sort of intimate contact dangerous. She eased his frustration by promising, “There’s one last Door at the Center. As soon as you’re healed enough to walk, we’ll travel there and transform you back.”

When Emperor Pagaose’s invitation arrived, Tashi said, “Jotham made it. He freed the Traveler and became emperor. The world will be right again.”

King Legato grunted, “Claiming a throne is easy, keeping it is a lifetime of work. Nonetheless, we shall declare our support.”

****

Emperor Sandarac and Empress Humi reacted to the message less favorably. Retiring to their chambers in private, Humi shrieked and shattered vases for an hour. Then, turning to her husband, she asked, “Well?”

“This new pretender is no doubt the thief Zariah warned us about. The Intagliosian army didn’t arrive in time.”

“What are you going to do about this?”

“Diplomacy is called for,” he said calmly from the bed. When she opened her mouth to object, he raised a finger. “First, we prevent the announcement from reaching Semenea while we negotiate terms acknowledging our claim. Second, we stall the College of Wizards and cut them off from all support. Third, we claim victory in a letter to the drunk King Borchart. We claim to have captured his Prefect. The sot knows nothing about military matters. With us controlling the sea, he will have to believe us. Our sole requirement for peace will be choosing us over this newcomer. Navarra can make him think it’s his idea.”

Impressed by this scheme, she admitted, “This could work.” The exotic beauty sat beside him.

“Meanwhile,” he said stroking her hair, “we muster every soldier we possess, including the army of Zanzibos, to invade the Center. I wrote the plans last week.”

###

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