Mandala's Catalyst (Gardone Trilogy)

by Warren R. Henke

  “But I can’t leave Endell.”

  Len put a hand on his shoulder. “Thamus, you and I are outlaws; wanted men. The guards are searching for us. There is nothing we can do here except get ourselves killed. Let Trask find Endell and we’ll save the women and meet him back in the dungeons later.

  They were outlaws? “But then, we won’t ever be able to come back.”

  Len nodded. “Not while the Guide has power. We’ll stay with our families on the other side.”

  Thamus looked at Rudolfo. “What about you?”

  “I’m not a fugitive, not yet at least, and I have two other daughters here that need me. But I want to see my wife first, so I’m going with you and then coming back.”

  Leave Endell? He couldn’t do that but what else could he do? “Trask, you have to swear you will find Endell. Bring him to the dungeons so he can go back with me. If you don’t find him today I’m coming back no matter how dangerous it is.”

  “I will find him. You have my word. Until then, remember, the guards are looking for you but don’t know what you look like, so make up a story and stick to it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. Say you are Hannibal from across the lake visiting your sister, they won’t know the difference. The important thing is to stay calm and confident because no matter what they say…they really have no idea who you are. It’s a trick they use to get people to confess…stick with your story and you’ll be fine.”

  Thamus nodded.

  “Len on the other hand doesn’t have that luxury, he’ll have to wear a disguise,” Trask said.

  “I’m not wearing it, I told you,” Len said.

  “It’s the best thing for you and we didn’t cut the tail off Rudolfo’s horse for nothing. Put it on and let’s get moving.”

  Len grudgingly reached into the shadows and pulled up a mass of dirty horse hair and an old blanket. Thamus reeled in disgust as a wave of odor forced him back.

  “That’s terrible!” he said.

  Len gave him a mock frown and threw the hair on his head. He wrapped the dirty blanket around his head and body.

  Rudolfo laughed. “If only Tari could see you now; the fallen king in the robe of a beggar.”

  “It’s not the seeing part I’m worried about. I smell like I’ve been sleeping in horse manure!” Len said.

  “And that’s why the guards will leave you alone, let’s go,” Trask said. “I can’t be seen with any of you so let me go first. Meet me at the back entrance of the castle and I’ll let you in. Then we’ll split up and meet at the entrance to the dungeons. You can find them, right?” He looked at Len.

  Len nodded.

  “I’ll distract the guards so you can get into the tunnel. You remember my instructions to get through the mountain?”

  Again, Len nodded.

  “Good. Any final questions?”

  Nobody spoke and Trask continued. “I’ll see you at the back entrance.” He looked at Thamus. “And then I’ll find Endell.”

  Trask walked out the door. After a short wait, Thamus followed the others out the back door and with the sun climbing over the distant mountains, started for the castle.

  Thamus walked with Rudolfo, chatting informally to avoid attention. Rudolfo insisted that Len not walk with them, to avoid attention. But Len said they just didn’t want to have to smell him; that was also true.

  They neared the castle and passed through outer wall, a tall, heavy barrier designed to protect the heart of the city. They walked through the open archway and entered the market where animals were sold and traded. Although it was early, the area was already bustling and packed with both people and animals. They pushed their way through the crowd and Rudolfo suddenly grabbed Thamus’ arm and pointed. Ahead of them across the market was a person in a black cloak running down the steps to the castle.

  Thamus looked at Len, who was several feet to the right of them, and pointed. He watched Len’s mouth drop at the stranger wearing the secret cloak of the Resistance. Len pushed through the crowded streets to get to them.

  “Who the hell is that?” Len asked.

  “Char would never authorize something like this. Something is wrong,” Rudolfo said.

  “I’ll find out what is going on,” Thamus said.

  Thamus walked forward to confront the rogue Resistance member. The caped stranger was looking down, watching his footing on the steps and it was difficult to see his face, but it sure looked like Endell. At the bottom of the steps he raised his head and Thamus was aghast to see Endell running towards him. What did he think he was doing? They made eye contact but Endell didn’t even react. He was going to run right past without even a hello.

  Thamus jumped forward, grabbed his arm, and yelled “Endell!” The two of them spun around and Endell’s momentum was stopped as a small wooden box tumbled to the ground. Endell pulled away to pick it up.

  “Endell! What are you doing?” Thamus said.

  “I’m sorry, sir…just in a hurry, please excuse me.”

  Endell tried to walk away, but Thamus held his arm. Len and Rudolfo walked up behind him.

  “Where did you get that cloak?” Rudolfo said.

  “Please gentlemen, let me pass, I just have to…” but suddenly Endell stopped and stared at Len.

  “King Len?” he asked. “Is that you?”

  Len turned to hide and as Endell tried to walk to him, Thamus pulled him back.

  “Let me go!” yelled Endell. “I’ll call the guards!”

  “Endell! What is wrong with you?” Thamus yelled, furious.

  Len suddenly turned back around and walked back to them. “Everyone just calm down here. Endell is obviously doing something important, right?” He looked at Endell.

  “Yes, I’m in a big hurry.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see you again,” Len reached out his hand to shake.

  Thamus watched, he could tell Len’s finger was curled up. They firmly shook and released. No twisting, no Resistance handshake. What was going on?

  “I have something here I would like to show you,” Endell said to Len. “If you’ll come with me to the market...”

  “I’ll be right back,” Len said to Thamus and Rudolfo.

  Len and Endell walked into the crowded market as Thamus and Rudolfo watched curiously.

  Rudolfo leaned over and whispered to Thamus, “B-23; his cape. That was Jewell’s cape.”

  Thamus looked at Rudolfo with a look of shock, “What?”

  “That was Jewell’s cape,” Rudolfo said, “Before she was banished.”

  Thamus turned and sprinted towards Len and Endell, who were on the other side of the open market. Thamus pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, his eyes glued on the wooden box.

  “Len, NO!” he yelled. But Len didn’t respond. He had nearly reached them when, in the space of a single step, Endell collapsed to the ground, leaving Len holding the box. Len looked at Thamus, his face horror stricken, and then he turned and hurled the box high into the air. It spun against the blue sky and looked like it would sail clear over the outer wall, but it hit the top edge and fell back into the marketplace.

  Len started to run for it and Thamus collided with him, sending both tumbling to the ground just as the magical components within the box reacted.

  It shattered into thousands of tiny pieces as the destructive force inside it unleashed. A blinding flash of light preceded an intense wave of heat and wind that ripped its way through the marketplace. It devoured people and animals. It shredded wagons and tables. Buildings shook.

  Thamus, on his back, felt heat and wind roar over the top of him as people, animals, scraps of lumber, and rocks flew through the air. He covered his face with his arms and rolled over while the marketplace blew apart around him. When the destructive force passed, he heard crashing sounds as everything fell back to the ground. Several objects landed on his body, sending instant pain through his back and lower leg.

  It was instantaneous but seemed to last for h
ours. As the noises and winds subsided, Thamus peered out from under his arm. His ears rang. He pushed himself up and pain ripped throughout his body. He couldn’t stand. He rolled over, sat up, and looked around. The dust burned his eyes, made him cough, and made it impossible to see anything except the shadow of Len next to him.

  For a moment everything was quiet, then a muffled scream in the distance broke the silence and was followed by another. Thamus reached Len, who was on his stomach, motionless. He leaned forward and spoke but couldn’t even hear his own voice. Len didn’t respond. He moved closer to Len and rolled him over. Thamus put his ear to his chest and couldn’t hear anything, but he felt a heartbeat.

  Thamus sat up, Len’s eyes were slightly open and his mouth was moving.

  “I can’t hear,” Thamus said.

  He put his ear next to Len’s mouth and heard, “That was The Guide; it wasn’t Endell.”

  Thamus turned and saw Endell’s body in a heap nearby. He crawled to him. The black cape had been ripped off by the explosion and Endell was lying shirtless in the street; his body heavily bruised, cut, and burned. He put his head to Endell’s chest and listened. He tried to make himself feel a beat, but there was nothing. He screamed, joining the growing cries and horror around him as he cradled Endell’s head in his arms.

  “Endell! Nooooo!” he bellowed into the dusty chaos.

  * * * Endell tried to pull against the straps binding him to the chair, but he couldn’t move. Before him a dark one chanted and he felt it holding his mind, making it impossible to do anything and hard to even think. Where was he and how did he get here? Was he dreaming? He concentrated to wake himself; the dark one screamed. Had it felt him push with his mind? It glared and growled and he focused again. This time he felt a force hit back, squeezing his head, but he didn’t let go. He pushed harder. The two of them locked eyes and his body started to shake and his head felt like it was going to burst into flames. What kind of dream was this? He pushed with everything he had and felt it break. The dark one fell to the floor and he suddenly sensed its thoughts. It was a she, and she was scared. She was calling for Dorg…who was Dorg?

  He pushed harder and felt her life fading; he could kill her like this…with his mind. She was dying. Sweat dripped down his face as he snuffed out her life, but then his mind slipped. He broke free from whatever force held him and, suddenly, he was somewhere else.

  It was like he was holding his breath and floating under water with his eyes closed: dark, peaceful, and unrestrained. It felt wonderful. He felt no pain, no fear, and no worry. He felt safe.

  Strangely, he couldn’t see nor hear but he knew everything that was happening around him. He knew the dark one was lying exhausted on the ground and trying to get up. He also knew the lifeless body he had left strapped to the chair beneath him wasn’t his own but belonged to the Guide. Then he felt another presence; a powerful force approaching from the back of the room. It came closer and moved into the lifeless body of the Guide. He sensed the slumped body start to breathe. He couldn’t hear the Guide yelling, but he knew he was shouting for the dark one to help release him from the chair. The woman moved and he felt the evil in both of them.

  He was curious and wanted to stay but two forces pulled at him. In one direction peace beckoned. He focused on it and felt himself leaving the presence of the Guide and he moved towards a bright light. His mind began to fade, so much bliss. But then the other thing called again; it was fear, worry, and pain. Why would he want that? But just thinking of it took him closer and he moved away from the blissful place. Someone was in a great deal of pain and needed him. Closer. Someone important. Even closer. Then he remembered Father, he remembered his life and felt himself rushing over the mountains and into the valley of Gardone to his own lifeless body, surrounded by death and carnage, what had happened? He felt horrible pain and sadness, his father’s anguish. It pulled him, drew him, and then pain shot through his chest. Fire burned his skin. He coughed.

  “Endell?”

  Endell struggled to open his eyes and saw Father. “I’m here now, I’m back.”

  He felt arms embrace him and heard Father laughing and crying at the same time.

  Chapter 11

  A Healing Force

  Horvold struck the dull side of his knife against a smooth brown stone and sparks flew. One of the largest settled into his nest of finely ground bark and he picked up the kindling, crunching it together above his head, and blew long and steady. After several breaths, the glow became brighter and smoke billowed from the bundle. Another breath and it burst into flame. He placed it under the carefully arranged sticks in front of him and, within moments, a fire crackled and illuminated the small clearing. He sat and looked across the fire at his mighty warrior friend, Char, sitting nearby.

  The firelight illuminated Char’s beady, red eyes and the white tusks that curved out of his mouth in deep arcs, each the size of Horvold’s arm. The ghastly face seemed to hover high in the air as Char’s dark fur kept the rest of his massive body cloaked in the shadows. Even sitting Char was huge. Horvold at full height still had to look up to address him face to face.

  “It doesn’t appear that having the king on our side will help us as much as I’d hoped,” Char said. “Horrible news about his son. I’m surprised the Guide would banish a child. He must be feeling threatened by us again.”

  Horvold nodded at Char but quickly turned away. The last time the Guide felt threatened, the Resistance had been crushed and it was his own fault. The possibility that Sir Knudson, the Sergeant of Arms, wanted to join the Resistance had intoxicated him. He ignored the danger, bypassed protocol, and invited Knudson to an initial meeting. It was his greatest regret; the mistake he’d give anything to change. The impact to the Resistance had been catastrophic. The sudden wave of deaths in the kingdom went unnoticed by the general populace as a third of his Resistance family was slowly murdered under a conspiracy of falsified accidents. Afterwards, fear drove away over half of the remaining members, not that Horvold could blame them. The Resistance was utterly destroyed and many of his friends had been sacrificed to the dark ones.

  Somehow, Char had convinced him to rebuild and seek his revenge on the Guide. They reorganized into three smaller sectors, all operating independently. Now if one fell, two more would stand strong. But although Char had succeeded in keeping him motivated, he hadn’t been able to vanquish the guilt. Horvold knew it was his fault and one day he would pay the debt to his fallen brothers with his own blood. It was the only way.

  “Has 3 returned?”

  His sardonic thoughts interrupted, Horvold looked back at Char. “Yes,” he said, digging into his pack. “She mapped out the area and found this!”

  He tossed the pouch to Char. A poor aim, but Char snatched it out of the air without effort. Char didn’t open the pouch but instead, he held it to his nostrils and took a deep breath. A wide grin spread across his face.

  “How much did she find?” His gruff voice sounded excited.

  “Large quantities is what she said, along with other strange plants.”

  “This is good.” Char took another smell. “This is strong, unpolluted. It’s the final piece. We are ready to take the Resistance in a new direction. This lake is ideal: secluded, protected, moderate climate, and uncontested. In addition to an abundance of physical resources, it appears to be rich in magic. We will settle there and call it Mandala.”

  Horvold felt hope, his gloom abated. “Our land, our ways…that would be perfect.”

  “Good yes, but not perfect. The Guide will hunt for us, and we’ll have other issues to deal with…”

  Gloom returned. Again, he had allowed himself to get too caught up in hapless optimism. Of course they would still have to worry about the Guide. He would never knowingly allow a group of them to leave Gardone. Nor would he allow a settlement to grow that close to the kingdom. But what else?

  “What other issues?”

  “You won’t be alone in Mandala.”

 
“Of course we will, there are no other people that—“

  “—Not people.”

  The words silenced him and he looked down from Char’s eyes into the fire. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? The problems facing Gardone were only a portion of Char’s troubles. It was too easy to forget that Char had a kingdom of his own.

  “Human and ataiki…together?” Horvold said, hoping he’d misunderstood.

  “The fear between ataiki and human is the tool that was used to destroy our nations. It keeps us bound by our oppressors. If we can’t remove the fear there is no hope.”

  “But humans are repulsed by ataiki. They don’t know you like I do.”

  “And ataiki are repulsed by humans, we’ll change that,” Char answered.

  “Only a few Resistance members even know who you are, most of them would quit if they knew the truth.”

  “Then let them,” Char’s deep voice boomed louder than usual. “I have spent my life working to remove the bitterness between our peoples. Why do you think I rescued you from the prison in Toq? Why do you think I wanted to learn your language? I didn’t just do it for you; I do it for all of us. Everything I do is done equally for human and ataiki.”

  Horvold didn’t break eye contact, it was important to let Char know he was listening.

  After several deep, raspy breaths Char continued. “You and I gained a respect and understanding for each other, I believe others can, too. And if we can’t achieve that within the free thinking membership of the Resistance, then everything I have done is pointless.”

  “I don’t disagree with your logic, but what if we overthrow the Guide and Director first and then work for integration. We are talking about hundreds of years of war and hatred. You can’t just make that go away overnight. Overthrowing the Guide seems easy compared to uniting human and ataiki, if it’s even possible.”