The temple of fate, p.16
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The Temple of Fate, page 16

 part  #5 of  Bander Series

 

The Temple of Fate
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  “On course, madam?” Eton Sward asked.

  “I believe so. That hill over there—the one that looks like a fist—is a marker. We need to swing around it to the north.”

  It turned out to be easier said than done. Twice they lost their way in the ravines and gullies and had to backtrack. Finally, as the sun hung low in the sky, they struggled their way up on to a rocky mesa.

  “We camp here for the night,” Talessa Kreed announced. “I thought we might arrive at our destination today, but it’s too late. There are some nasty cliffs up ahead that we won’t want to traverse in the dark.”

  “No matter,” Eton Sward said. “The temple has stood for a thousand years or more. It will be waiting there for us tomorrow.”

  At some time during the night, Bander snapped awake, heart pounding. He stood up, listening. Something had woken him and he wasn’t sure what.

  One of the sailors, the older heavyset man named Chumbold, stood just beyond the glow of the fire. The man held his spear at the ready.

  “What is it?” Bander whispered.

  “I’m not sure, sir. Could be a ragarry.”

  That wasn’t good. ragarries were large nocturnal jungle cats and fearsome hunters.

  “We need to rouse everyone,” Bander said.

  “No, sir. The commotion might prompt the beast to attack. Best to remain calm.”

  Bander snatched up another spear which was nearby and then took up a position across the fire from the sailor. Together they waited.

  He stared into the darkness, willing himself to see something—anything. But he couldn’t make out anything. So he stood still and listened.

  There was plenty to hear. Mostly insects, but some rustling of smaller animals. The wind was up and blew across the mesa in ghostly swells that sounded like far off whispers.

  Bander didn’t mind waiting. He was fully awake now, standing easy, but alert. Ready to swing the spear up if anything charged in from the darkness.

  But nothing came at him.

  Not during the first hour. Or the second.

  “I think whatever was out there is now gone, sir.” Chumbold turned to Bander. “You can go back to—”

  And then there was a flash of movement—a blur—as something huge and incredibly fast slammed into the sailor. A moment later, he was gone.

  Bander jumped forward, leaping over the campfire. He couldn’t see where the man had gone. He couldn’t see anything. But he heard a low animal sound—halfway between a growl and a cry.

  Spear raised, Bander advanced. He was aware of his heart beating. It was steady and normal. Calm even. He breathed deeply and stepped into the night.

  Away from the fire, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He thought he saw a large shadow ripple and move. And then he heard what sounded like a body being dragged along the ground.

  “Bander! Are you hurt?” It was Eton Sward.

  “Ragarry,” Bander whispered. “It took Chumbold.”

  “You need light?”

  Bander knew what Eton Sward was thinking. A light spell. It would blind any foes and give Bander a fighting chance. But it would also reveal to Talessa Kreed and her crew that Eton Sward was a mage.

  Another low growl sounded from the darkness.

  Bander made his decision.

  “You can’t cast magic bolt, can you?”

  “I’m a scholar, not a battle mage,” Eton Sward sniffed.

  “Light will have to do then. As bright as you can make it. Ten feet in front of me. Fix on my voice. You need me to keep speaking?”

  “No, I have it.”

  “On three, then.”

  Bander counted aloud. When he got to three, he shut his eyes and clamped his hand over his face for good measure.

  There was a popping sound and then a bright light exploded in front of him. Even though Bander had his eyes closed and covered, it was still like looking at the sun.

  But it was worse for the ragarry.

  As he opened his eyes, he glimpsed the beast crouching on a large boulder, howling in surprise and anger. It was huge. Easily twice as big as Bander with paws the size of serving platters. And by the looks of it, the ragarry was recovering from the bright light much more quickly than Bander hoped.

  Bander rushed in just as the creature pounced. Acting purely on instinct, he jammed the butt of the spear in the ground so the sharp end pointed at the animal. Then the next thing he knew, five hundred pounds of bloodthirsty jungle cat was upon him.

  As he slammed against the hard ground with the beast on him, every bit of air was driven from Bander’s lungs and his vision darkened.

  Then nothingness.

  When he came to, Bander felt like he had been run over by a stampede of cattle. But at least he was alive.

  Over him, the faces of Valthar, Eton Sward, Talessa Kreed, and the young sailor hovered in the darkness, illuminated by Eton Sward’s torch.

  “I told you he’s a tough old bastard,” Valthar said to Talessa Kreed.

  She smiled. “Lucky, I’d say—since we don’t have a healer amongst us. But apparently we do have a mage.” She glanced over at Eton Sward. “Still, you acquitted yourself quite well, Bander.”

  “I’ll say!” Eton Sward motioned to Bander’s left with the torch.

  Bander turned, somewhat painfully, and saw the jungle cat’s corpse impaled by a broken spear. The animal was huge and black.

  “Well done,” Fenrue stepped out of the darkness and extended his hand. Bander gripped it and Fenrue helped him to his feet.

  “Not many men can take on a ragarry one on one,” Fenrue said. “Especially a full-grown beast like that.”

  “Like the lady said, I got lucky.” Every muscle in Bander’s body ached and it felt like one of his ribs was injured again—bruised if not cracked. Then he caught sight of the blood-drenched corpse of Chumbold, the sailor who had been attacked by the animal. He hadn’t been lucky. The man’s head had been mostly torn from his neck.

  “It’s not safe for us to remain here,” Talessa Kreed said. “Scavengers will come. Do you think you can hike?”

  Bander took a few tentative steps. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Agreed.”

  While the others broke camp, Bander rested against the boulder. He had been lucky. By all rights, he should have been as dead as Chumbold.

  The ten minutes went by quickly, and Bander wasn’t feeling much better, but he soldiered on. If Valthar and Sward could keep going, so could he.

  They proceeded even more slowly than usual, each member of the expedition holding a torch to light the way and hopefully keep any more predators at bay. They had divided up some of the fallen man’s supplies and discarded the rest, so everyone’s pack was now a bit heavier. So by necessity, the group stopped frequently, and every time Bander was grateful for the rest.

  After two or three hours of trudging through the dark, they were rewarded with the faint glow of sunrise over the mountains.

  “This is probably safe enough to camp for a bit and eat, don’t you think?” Talessa Kreed asked Fenrue.

  “Aye.” The big bodyguard nodded. “Looks clear.”

  Bander turned and surveyed the area. They were in a wide valley filled with large boulders and scrubby trees that were nothing compared to the towering vegetation in the jungle proper. Ahead of them was a maze of canyons and beyond that, the mountains rose sharply up into the mist, their steep slopes sharp and rugged. The wind had increased up here and now gusted down, causing the scrubby trees to dance and bob.

  Talessa Kreed found a sheltered area among the boulders and Eton Sward and the young sailor gathered some wood so they could build a fire. Then everyone warmed themselves, drank some tea that was bitter, but at least hot, and ate a meal of smoked fish.

  “We’re close now,” Talessa Kreed said.

  “How close?” Valthar asked.

  “An hour at most. See that ridge?” She pointed off to the northwest.

  Valthar nodded.

  “It’s up there.”

  Bander looked over and saw steep hills gouged by a rough canyon. The hills were covered by tawny grass and dotted with small trees of green and brown.

  Although he wasn’t much of a climber, Bander decided he could manage an hour trudging up the steep slope.

  The big question was, what would they find at the top.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It took them closer to two hours, but when they finally ascended to the top of the ridge, Bander saw what Rodan Scarfin Burritch must have seen on this same spot roughly five hundred years ago.

  There, perched on a bald cliff side, were the remains of the blood-red temple. And, even from a distance, it looked very similar to the Temple of Dreams in Irfals.

  Eton Sward whooped and hollered, but Valthar remained silent. When Bander looked over at his friend, he was surprised to see the man standing quietly, staring at the ruins. His eyes glistened with emotion.

  Bander clapped Valthar on the shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

  Valthar didn’t say anything. Just continued to stare at the temple.

  “What are you all waiting for?” Talessa Kreed asked, with a self-satisfied smile. “Get your journals out and start studying. We depart first thing tomorrow morning.”

  They made their way up to the flat summit of the cliff to get a better look at the ruins. When Talessa Kreed had told Bander that it was just a pile of rubble, with no wall standing higher than ten feet, she had exaggerated a bit. Yes, at some point the tower had toppled over, spilling heaping ruins of red lumbia stone blocks. But at least half of the temple itself was still standing—although most of it was covered by thick snaking vines. Still, you could clearly discern the shape of the structure. And Bander wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

  “Remarkable!” Eton Sward said. “It’s a twin—”

  “Hold!” Fenrue said. The big guard slipped out of his pack, drew his sword, and strode towards a gap in the ruined wall of the hall.

  “He probably saw something,” Talessa Kreed said.

  After five minutes, Fenrue emerged and signaled that the area was clear.

  “Just a jack deer.”

  They all made their way into the heap of ruins. The inside of the temple hall was overgrown with gnarled bushes starved for light and the dead husks of a few larger trees. Vines encircled broken pillars and escaped through long-ago shattered windows. But there, towards the middle of the hall, was a massive black altar—just as Burritch had described it. Roughly nine feet long, three wide, and three tall, it looked like it had been carved out of a single block of stone.

  “Remarkable,” Eton Sward said. The mage spent a good quarter hour studying the altar before he tore himself away and began pacing the length of the structure.

  “What’s he doing?” Talessa Kreed asked.

  “Not sure,” Bander said.

  “He’s checking the dimensions,” Valthar said.

  “Indeed I am,” Eton Sward called from the west end of the ruins. “And I can say with certainty that this structure has the exact same dimensions as the Temple of Dreams.”

  “Temple of Dreams?” Talessa Kreed fixed Sward with a suspicious look.

  “Yes, an archeological site outside of the Steading,” Eton Sward said. “I am the steward. Or I was.”

  Bander didn’t hear the rest of the exchange. He had moved away—making his way through the forest of toppled pillars towards Valthar who was studying the wall on the east side of the temple. His friend stood where the ambulatory would have been. The walls there were more or less intact, although the ceiling had long ago collapsed, creating a sheltered open-air garden.

  As Bander drew closer, he saw Valthar pawing at the wall, stripping away vegetation and pressing against the bricks as if trying to trigger a secret door.

  “Don’t just stand there, you rumpkin! Help me, damn you!”

  Bander knew what Valthar was searching for. Back at the Temple of Dreams there had been a tunnel on the east end of the structure which led to the room known as the Nave of Time.

  “It won’t be in the wall,” Bander said quietly.

  “How do you know?”

  “Don’t you remember the temple in Irfals? The passage will be beneath our feet.”

  Valthar kicked at the dirt on the ground. “You’re right. We need shovels, laborers.”

  Bander squatted down and started digging with his hands. The earth was soft and loamy. It wasn’t hard to get through, but Valthar was right. They’d have to dig down a dozen feet or more to reach the tunnel.

  Eton Sward, Talessa Kreed, Fenrue, and the younger sailor joined them and stared at the ground where Bander was digging.

  “Buried treasure?” Talessa Kreed asked.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Bander said. “We’re looking for a passage.”

  “You never said anything about excavation. I would have brought another ship full of laborers.”

  “We don’t need laborers, madam,” Eton Sward said.

  “What are you talking about, Sward?” Valthar asked.

  “Follow!”

  Realization played across Valthar’s face as Eton Sward backtracked through the ruins and exited the structure. The rest of the group hurried behind.

  Eton Sward circled around the outside of the eastern end of the building—on the other side of the wall which Valthar had been so interested in.

  “Stand back, all of you. This may trigger a collapse.”

  With that, he gestured in the air and whispered a word under his breath. Around them the temperature dropped suddenly and ground rippled as if it was liquid.

  Eton Sward’s face tightened in concentration. He flung his hands forward and a glowing beam of energy issued forth, striking the ground a dozen feet from the wall. A narrow whirlpool of earth began to swirl around the beam and then fell in upon itself in a spray of dirt.

  Talessa Kreed, Fenrue, and the young sailor scampered back as a four foot wide hole in the earth opened. Below it yawned a dark pit.

  “Aha!” Eton Sward cried triumphantly. “That leads to the Nave. No excavation required.”

  Bander had immediately recognized the spell Eton Sward had cast. It was stoneflow and was normally used to open up a tunnel in a castle or dungeon wall. At first he was a little surprised that an academic would know such a spell, but then he remembered that Silbra Dal knew stoneflow as well—and had used it to allow them to escape when they had been buried alive in the destruction of Waterside. The memory of that cataclysm still haunted him. All those hundreds of thousands of lives lost. The utter destruction.

  “A clever trick, mage,” Fenrue said. “But what’s to prevent it from sealing up and trapping us underground forever.”

  “Do I look like a mere acolyte, sir? My skill is such that this passage will remain for several hours at least.”

  “Then what?”

  “What do you mean? Then it will close of its own accord, of course. But it matters not since I will just cast the spell again to release us.”

  “And what if you are dead?”

  Eton Sward didn’t hesitate. “It’s your job to prevent that from happening.”

  Bander shook his head. “It’s not his job, because he’s not going.”

  Fenrue took a step closer to Talessa Kreed. “Where she goes, I go.”

  “You misunderstand,” Bander said. “She’s not going either.” He turned to Talessa Kreed. “You and your men need to stay here and guard the temple.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened with disbelief.

  Bander said nothing.

  Talessa Kreed said, “This is my expedition.”

  “We hired you,” Bander said.

  “It matters not. This is a significant discovery, and I mean to be a part of it.”

  “What exactly do you expect to find in there?” Fenrue asked.

  Eton Sward said, “Another part of the temple. Two or three rooms, perhaps.”

  “I say we come to an accord about the treasure now,” Talessa Kreed said. “So there will be no misunderstanding later. Agreed?”

  Eton Sward and Fenrue began speaking at once, but Valthar yelled, “Hold!”

  “I believe that this is my expedition, since I am funding it,” he said. “And you may have any treasure you find, madam. Treasure is not my concern.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” Bander said to Valthar. “You know that.”

  “Precisely why we need a larger party.” Valthar looked over at Talessa Kreed. “But you must know that we cannot guarantee your safety. We have no knowledge of what dangers might lurk within.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” Talessa Kreed said.

  Bander didn’t like it, and he told them so. “I’ve been in more of my fair share of delvings and there are dozens of ways to die underground—everything from traps to bad air. If you’re coming with us, you need to heed my warnings.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  In the end, they decided to leave the young sailor—Nyanel—as a rear guard. Bander gathered wood that they could use as magical torches and asked Eton Sward to cast light on each of them. The mage complied, but scoffed at the preparation.

  “Likely the Nave is but fifty paces from where we shall enter the tunnel.”

  “It never hurts to be prepared,” Bander said.

  He tied a rope he got from Nyanel to a section of toppled wall and tossed the end down into the dark shaft. They were as ready as they could be. The only thing that they lacked were weapons. Fenrue had his sword, of course, but the one remaining spear was staying with Nyanel. Bander noticed a dagger on Talessa Kreed’s belt, but other than that, they were unarmed.

  “Let us descend,” Valthar said. “Gods, I am eager to see this temple’s mysteries for myself!”

  “I will go first,” Fenrue said.

  Bander shook his head. “No. I’m going first. I need to check the hall.”

  Fenrue didn’t appear happy to hear that, but he didn’t protest.

  Eton Sward said, “Just don’t touch anything down there. All manner of of wards might still be in place.”

  “Believe me,” Valthar said. “He knows.”

 
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