TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2)

by Bowker, Richard;

  I realized that I was afraid to go outside. It was daylight; the element of surprise was gone. Anyone could shoot an arrow at me as I walked across the forum, or sneak up behind me and stab me in the back.

  I decided to stay in the temple. Eventually I went back up to the balcony—this time going around the other side, away from the collapsed section. I stayed on the lookout for anyone else who might be hiding behind the draperies or coming up from the lower floors of the temple. But I was alone.

  At the front of the temple, the balcony turned into a wide gallery filled with seats. Behind the gallery was a door. I made my way through the seats and opened the door.

  I walked into a long, narrow room. Behind me was a fresco of the rising sun. Ahead of me was a single huge window looking down at all of Urbis—the forum, the palatium, the soldiers' barracks, and beyond to the castella and parks and woods of outer Urbis, all the way to the city walls in the far distance.

  Smoke was rising from the barracks.

  The forum was empty.

  The main road leading to outer Urbis was empty.

  The sun had risen over the hills outside the city. A new day had dawned.

  Why was no one around? Just because it was so early? Or had news spread about the attack? Anyone who saw the smoke would realize that something bad had happened.

  I realized that I was very tired. I wanted someone to come and rescue me, comfort me, tell me it was okay to fall asleep.

  I couldn't allow myself to fall asleep.

  But I did.

  The second time I caught myself nodding off I decided I had to do something. If there was smoke at the barracks, perhaps my friends needed me.

  So I forced myself to go back downstairs to the front of the temple. I pushed one of the doors open and walked out into the early morning sunlight.

  The day was cool, but the clouds had disappeared. Sunlight glinted off puddles on the forum's cobblestones.

  The forum was still empty. Down below, the statue of Hieron seemed to gesture up to me. This was where we were supposed to meet. No one was there.

  Gant in hand, I walked down the long set of steps from the temple.

  I was halfway across the forum when I saw movement off to the right. A door opened in the pontifex's residence. I raised my gant.

  I saw Feslund, and I relaxed. Then I saw Palta, and my heart leaped up. A few others were with them: Mellor, Cymbian, Escondo, Ploterus.

  And in the middle of them was the pontifex, Tirelius, looking tired and confused.

  When Palta spotted me, she broke away from the others and rushed to embrace me.

  "It's been awful," she said.

  "Yes," was all I could think of to reply. "Awful."

  "Where are the others?" Feslund asked when he reached us.

  "All dead," I replied. "I'm sorry."

  That startled him. "Even Siglind?"

  "Yes. I'm so sorry," I repeated.

  He grimaced. "What happened?" he demanded.

  I tried to summarize, but I was too exhausted to say much. "A lot of people were inside the temple when we got there," I said. "For a sunrise service, I guess. We killed most of them, but an old woman had a gant and started firing at us. She killed Siglind and the others. Then I managed to kill her."

  Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Feslund said, "Let's go into the temple."

  I noticed Tirelius. He no longer looked confused. He was staring at me with cold black hatred.

  We headed up the temple stairs, going slowly at first so that Tirelius could keep up; finally Ploterus and Cymbian took him by the arms and half-dragged him. Mellor and Escondo faced the forum as we ascended, scanning it for threats. Palta took hold of my hand. "Something happened in the pontifex's palace—I don't know what," she said. "Maybe someone had a gant there, too. Several of our soldiers died. We got there after we took care of the barracks."

  "What happened at the barracks?" I asked. "I saw smoke."

  "A fire started; I don't know how. Perhaps a lamp overturned."

  "The soldiers?"

  "All dead—those who were in the building, anyway. Many of them ran out in their underwear to get away from the fire, and we shot them one by one. When the others saw what was happening, they stayed inside and burned to death."

  "Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say. I looked at her. Her expression was grim, but she didn't look as devastated as I felt. She was used to war and savagery and loss, I guess. I was just a kid from a peaceful town who had never suffered anything—until the portal came along.

  Finally we reached the top of the steps and entered the temple. It was just the way I had left it. I watched as the others took it in—staring in awe at Via, noticing the wreckage of the balcony, the overturned chairs, the body parts, the blood.

  "It is bad not to have my sister's body," Feslund murmured. "She should be buried with great honor. She was a princess."

  "She saved my life," I said.

  He looked at me as if to say: You are not worth a princess's life. And I suppose he was right.

  "Orders, my lord?" Escondo asked Feslund.

  "Let me think," Feslund said. He looked around. He had a lot of problems, I knew. Even with all the weaponry in the armamentarium, how could he hope to hold Urbis with so few men? The original plan had been to send soldiers back to the ship as soon as the city was secure. The ship would bring news of the triumph to Gallia, and reinforcements would arrive within a few weeks. But if King Carolus had sent a messenger to warn the authorities, soon an army would be on its way from Roma to reinforce—or save—Urbis. And who knew how many other people in Urbis had gants? People like the old woman I had killed, ready to give up their lives to save Via.

  Feslund's victory was far from secure.

  While he conferred with Escondo, Palta and I went over to Tirelius.

  He was standing before the altar, looking up at the portal. His arms were crossed. His whole body was trembling slightly. From age? From emotion?

  "Send me home," I said.

  For a moment I thought he hadn't heard me, but then he turned slightly and faced us. "Home?" he repeated.

  "In Via," I said. "You know how to do it. Every viator's journeys are logged over there," I went on, pointing to the high desk where the monk had recorded Valleia's trip to my world. "All the records are in that room. Find Affron's records. Or Valleia's. Find out the settings they used in Via. Send me back to my world."

  "Why don't you ask Affron or Valleia to take you back?"

  "You know as well as I do that they're dead. Now do it."

  Tirelius looked at the two of us for a long moment, and then slowly shook his head. "You are foolish children," he replied. "You have destroyed a great civilization—for nothing. So you can return to your parents, or your friends, or the trivial comforts of your lives. For centuries our world has been as happy and peaceful and prosperous a place as one can find. And we have looked. We have explored countless worlds. We have seen what works in human society and what does not. We have made our choices, and they have been good ones. And now?" He waved his hand at the destruction in the temple. "This."

  "I don't care about Terra," I said. "I didn't ask to be kept here, to be hunted down. Don't blame me for trying to go back to my home. Now do as I say."

  I waved my gant at Tirelius. But he just shook his head again. "Has it not occurred to you that you would never be safe from us, even if we did bring you back to your home? We can always go there and grab you back, or kill you. In every universe in which you exist."

  "But you don't control Via anymore," I pointed out. "Feslund does."

  Tirelius shrugged. "I will not argue with you. Kill me if you like. I have no reason to live in a world ruled by that Gallian fool. And no other viator will help you—I can assure you of that. Any sympathy they might feel for you will disappear when they look at this." He waved his hand at the destruction in the temple. "They will kill you the first chance they get. And if somehow you manage to survive, you will be d
oomed to live your life here on Terra, pondering the consequences of your stupidity."

  And then he turned back to Ploterus and Cymbian, as if he had no further interest in talking to children like us.

  It occurred to me that I didn't have to threaten Tirelius; I didn't have to wave the gant at him. I imagined that he was the old woman, trying to kill me. And I was angry and terrified, and suddenly I could feel this weapon inside me...

  Tirelius staggered; Ploterus caught him by the arm to keep him from falling. The pontifex shook off Ploterus and turned to stare at me with his cold eyes.

  And his eyes were frightened.

  I stared back at him, and then I was the one who turned away.

  "We'll find another viator," Palta was saying to me. "We'll find Gratius. Gratius will take you home."

  I didn't respond. Instead I sat down on the altar steps and put my head in my hands.

  I wasn't going to do it; I wasn't going to destroy Tirelius. Now I knew how Affron had felt, at the pawnbroker's, at the Circus Maximus.

  For some reason I tried to count up how many people I had killed in my time on Terra, but I had lost track. On Carmody's world, it had been that one kid from New Portugal in the middle of a battle, and he had haunted my dreams. Now I was on my way to becoming numb, hardened. Would I dream about the old woman? The soldiers rushing into the temple? The worshippers prostrate on the marble floor?

  About Tirelius, staggering under the power of my mind?

  Even if I could get home, I would never be the same now. When I returned from Carmody's world, I hadn't been the same either, I guess, but really, I had been better—more understanding, more forgiving, more mature. What had Terra done to me?

  When I finally looked up, Palta was sitting next to me on the stairs. She silently reached out her hand, and I took it. I looked over at her, and I remembered how many times she had come into my bed, looking for comfort from another human being. I thought of my mother, comforting me when I was little and frightened—even though she was frightened herself.

  We needed each other.

  So we sat there, trying to think what to do next.

  Eventually Feslund came over. "You two stay here and hold the temple," he said. "I'm going back to the armamentarium with the pontifex as a hostage. Cymbian and Ploterus are returning to the ship. Things will not be easy here until we get more men."

  "We need food," Palta pointed out. "We haven't eaten since yesterday."

  "Then look for it," Feslund said impatiently. "There must be something to eat in this place."

  He summoned the other soldiers, who took Tirelius and left the temple. Palta and I were alone.

  "You could go search for Gratius," she suggested.

  "Where? He probably lives in one of those castella like Hypatius did. But which one? It's hopeless. We can't just go walking around Urbis. That would be too dangerous."

  We were silent for a while. I wanted to tell her about what happened with the old woman, but I couldn't figure out what to say.

  "Maybe I should go look for food," Palta said finally. "You stay here."

  "Okay." I didn't feel like moving. And I wasn't hungry.

  She returned a while later with some figs and a stale loaf of bread. "I found a couple of side entrances," she said as we ate. "I barricaded them as well as I could."

  I nodded. "We can't barricade the front doors, though," I pointed out. "They don't lock, and they open out. If people want to come in, they'll come in."

  "Would we have to kill them?"

  "Maybe we can just scare them away. Show them the power of the gant, and they'll keep their distance."

  "I don't think many people will come near the forum today," Palta said. "They'll know about our weapons. They'll be terrified."

  That seemed likely. "But we haven't killed all the soldiers," I said. "The ones guarding the city walls are all still alive, for example. And more may be arriving any minute. They won't be so easy to scare."

  "We'll have to stand watches through the night," Palta replied. "We can't let anyone take us by surprise."

  That seemed reasonable. But how long would we have to do that? Would we have to sit here day after day, guarding the portal, until reinforcements finally arrived from Gallia? In the meantime, as Tirelius had pointed out, people would kill us if they had the chance.

  And after the reinforcements arrived? You will be doomed to live your life here on Terra, pondering the consequences of your stupidity.

  We sat there silently for a long time as the day passed. No one came; the temple was silent; the portal loomed behind us—taunting me, I felt sometimes. I'm right here. Why don't you walk in and use me?

  We took turns going to the bathroom and searching for more food. I found a bottle of wine in a storage room, but we were afraid to drink too much of it in case we both fell asleep. Then I remembered the gardener's cottage, and I went there. I filled a sack with fruit, cheese, and bread. I looked around; it was a lovely little place, with flowers everywhere. The flowers will soon wilt, I thought. I smelled smoke. I went outside, and I saw that the schola was on fire.

  I went back into the temple, and I barricaded the door behind me.

  I went up to the room at the rear of the balcony and looked out over the forum once again. It was still deserted, but now the palatium was also on fire. Beyond the forum, the main road was crowded—people were leaving Urbis, I realized.

  Downstairs, Palta had lit a few torches and collected blankets and cushions for us to sleep on.

  I told her what I had seen.

  "Perhaps the priests are burning everything."

  Why not?

  "And people are leaving they city because they have no idea what's happening," she went on. "They may not even know that Gallians are behind it all. Better just to leave Urbis and find someplace safe to stay."

  "It may make Feslund's task easier."

  "I don't think that Feslund is smart enough to win this war," Palta replied, "even with all the gants in the armamentarium."

  And if he lost the war, then what? I couldn't imagine.

  It grew dark. I'd had a chance to sleep earlier in the day, so I took the first watch.

  Palta lay down on the cushions and put a blanket over herself, and soon her regular breathing told me she was asleep. I stared at her for a while. What would I have done if she had been killed? My last friend.

  The long night passed. I thought about waking Palta to take her watch, but I wasn't tired, so I let her sleep. I thought about home. I thought about all that had happened to me on Terra. I tore off a hunk of bread, then washed it down with wine. All the while the portal was looming behind me. Finally I turned and stared at it.

  Its glow was softer in the dark. It was beautiful, really. Enticing. I wanted to reach out and touch it. I felt my hand moving towards it, and then I pulled my hand back.

  The portal had been nothing but trouble for me. In some universe, of course, the portal hadn't been there in the woods behind my house, or it had been there and I hadn't entered it, or I had traveled to Carmody's world but not to Terra... so many different universes, so many different me's, happy and sad, living and dead.

  And in this universe, I was able to kill a person with my mind.

  This was the universe I inhabited; this was the only me that mattered right now. I had made my choices, and here was where I had ended up, standing watch in the temple of Via while the armies of the Roman empire were probably massing to destroy me.

  Haec Est Via.

  This is the way.

  It wasn't a path I should ever have taken.

  I took another sip of wine. And then I heard a sound.

  I raised my gant. It was the front door, slowly opening. I should have roused Palta, but I didn't. I waited.

  I saw a purple-robed figure advance into the dim torchlight.

  It was Gratius.

  He bowed to me. I inclined my head slightly in return, but I didn't lower my gant. Maybe he had turned against me, as Tirelius ha
d predicted.

  "Larry," he greeted me softly.

  "Gratius."

  He ignored the gant and continued to advance.

  "I knew I would find you here," he said.

  I felt a lump rising in my throat. "Can you take me back to my home?" I asked. "That's all I wanted. That's why I'm here."

  He nodded. "I can," he replied. "But there is something you need to understand."

  "What's that?"

  He stood in front of me now. "Affron. Valleia. Carmody," he said. "They are all alive."

  Chapter 30

  "What?"

  "Alive," he repeated. "I was afraid that you might not understand that. The morning they disappeared—I came to warn all of you that Decius was sending soldiers to capture you. He had discovered where you lived, but he made the mistake of telling one of his generals, who told me. Affron wanted to wait for you and the girl, but there was no time."

  "Where did they go?" I asked.

  "The only place they could go. Away from the priests and their power. We found a ship that would take them to Barbarica."

  Barbarica. The name still gave me the chills. "Does Tirelius know?"

  "Only I know. The other priests assume that Affron and Valleia are part of this attack—we just haven't seen them yet."

  I remembered the pontifex's momentary confusion when I ordered him to take me home. I assumed that he had been taunting me when he asked me why Affron or Valleia wasn't going to do that. But he had in fact thought they were still alive—and they were!

  "That's wonderful," I said. "But—"

  "Before I left them," Gratius interrupted, "Affron said: 'When you find Larry, bring him to me.'"

  "Why? Why did he say that?"

  Gratius shrugged. "He said that you would understand."

  I would? I realized that I was shivering.

  And I found my mind ranging out across Terra. To a small room. To a person sitting cross-legged on the floor, making strange motions with his hands in the air in front of him.

  I gasped.

  "Larry?" Gratius said.

  I brought my mind back to the temple, to the conversation. "Yes?"