Mandala's Catalyst (Gardone Trilogy)

by Warren R. Henke

  “Get down there and find out what happened. I want an overview and I want it now. If you aren’t back with a report before my officers are assembled, you’re demoted.”

  The guard bolted into the castle to make his way to the lower levels.

  “You!” Knudson pointed to another guard. “Assemble my officers. If you aren’t back before that other guard, you are demoted.”

  He grabbed the arm of a young soldier still looking over the edge and spun him around. “Go sound the defensive battle alarm.” He pushed him and the young man dashed away. Towers throughout the land each housed an operator ready to forward a message using bells, mirrors, or fires. In a matter of seconds alarms would put every village around the lake on high alert.

  Several eyes still stared back at him, waiting instructions. “I want a signal team down on that field below, in front of the fountain. See?” He pointed and a young face nodded. “And I want another here on the balcony. Make it happen now!” This would open communication between his vantage point here high above the city and the marketplace below.

  He also ordered a medical team to assemble in the great hall, requested a large table and chairs on the balcony, and sent for the Guide. Then he dismissed the rest and gazed into the growing pandemonium while waiting for his orders to be carried out.

  Below, small dots jostled about, people running in all directions. The war had returned. Peace was over. He had become his father, who had stood on this same spot while planning and coordinating the final battles against the dark ones. He made a fist and his eyes burned with hatred. Dark ones had taken everything from him: his father, wife, and unborn child. He had waited thirty years; now he would smash every last one of them.

  In his mind he could see the corner of the balcony behind him, but he didn’t look. He never looked at the corner where he had found his father bleeding and gasping for air. The night of the dragon, he’d come to celebrate victory with his only surviving family. Instead, he’d witnessed his father’s death.

  With his last breath, his father made a request. The dying wish had changed his life. The dying wish had changed Gardone...it brought peace to the land.

  “You must take my place and lead the army, but not as I led. No more fighting. Bring peace. The Guide has a plan that you must follow. He will change this land. Swear to me you will do exactly as he says. Then you must…”

  The words ended there. Knudson hadn’t even been given the chance to let his father know the request would be granted. Through his tears, however, Knudson swore he would find peace at all costs. He would end the bloodshed. He would work with the man who had recently become his father’s closest friend, the man they called the Guide.

  As his father had promised, the Guide brought peace. The Guide taught him to control his anger and release his thirst for blood. Through prayer and worship, the Guide offered a new way. Through sacrifice and obedience, Nix kept them safe.

  Knudson rarely allowed himself to remember his life before the Guide, there was too much pain. The Guide was his family now, this was his life. He had found peace knowing the land had become beautiful and his people were safe and happy. The horrors Gardone had known for so long were over, and for this, Knudson could accept the casualties in his life.

  But now…this. The bitterness, rekindled, demanded revenge. The Guide had helped channel his anger for so many years, to direct it against any within the kingdom that tried to bring an end to their peace. Until today, the enemies were from within their numbers, citizens who broke laws and questioned leadership. But now the real enemy had returned. The destruction below could only come from the dark ones. No citizen of Gardone would commit this evil.

  * * * Dorg cursed and pulled against the leather straps confining him to the chair. Since he’d opened his eyes, safe back in his own body, ZieZee had been lying motionless on the floor. He was helpless.

  “ZieZee!” he yelled again and shook in a fierce tantrum, draining what little energy was left. The chair barely moved.

  He screamed one last time and fell silent, breathing heavy; there wasn’t time for this. Now she had failed him twice. First, her pathetic cry for help that disrupted his plans in the marketplace and now leaving him tied to the chair. Sure, she was exhausted, but that was no excuse. So was he. This was a critical operation and she hadn’t taken it seriously enough.

  He searched the lair for something, anything to help him escape. Len and other Resistance members were in the marketplace, either dead or severely injured. He could have guaranteed their capture had he hurried back. It was probably too late now.

  “ZieZee!” he yelled and shook again. Still no response. He studied her body, contorted on the floor as if she’d been shoved backwards. What happened to her? She wasn’t dead; he had sensed that upon his return. She was just weak and had sent Endell to the light too soon. She was supposed to wait until he returned, then release the boy’s essence, and then untie him. They could have lost the body of the Guide. Any longer and it would have begun to decay and not accepted his spirit. Stupid wretch! He hated relying on anyone. Nobody did things well enough, except himself.

  Why hadn’t she held Endell? How could a young, inexperienced, magically ignorant soul have challenged her? Somehow, the boy drained her. Maybe there had been more to him than he had realized. For a moment, he regretted killing him.

  She twitched.

  “ZieZee?”

  With a groan, she cocked her head and an eye opened and locked onto him.

  “ZieZee, you have to untie me. If I don’t get back this will all turn against us.”

  The eye closed and he inhaled, preparing to batter her with insults, but she rolled over and crawled to him. Without moving anything but her arm, she reached up, grabbed the leather strap, and ripped off the entire armrest. Her arm dropped to the ground.

  He rushed to unbuckle his arms and legs, stood, and grunted…resisting an urge to kick her.

  “Help,” she moaned.

  “I don’t have time. Sleep it off, you’ll be fine,” he said, already walking across the room.

  Moments later, the portal ignited into a red glow and with matching eyes, he passed through it.

  On the other side, he didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust before hurrying down the hallway. He paused only to peer into Delorah’s room; she slept soundly and, thanks to the tea, would until evening. He checked the mirror to remind himself to be the kind and compassionate Guide, made minor adjustments to his long stringy hair, and walked out of the main doors to his quarters. The two guards normally guarding his door were gone. He proceeded directly to the balcony to inspect the damage.

  Just outside the archway in the bright sunshine, his top guards sat around a large table listening to Knudsen. They all wore battle armor and swords – perfect. Armed soldiers marching through the streets reinforced the terror, making the people feel afraid and safe at the same time. Knudson pointed to one of the maps and the Guide noticed the decree he’d prepared the night before open on the table. He stayed in the shadows, and listened.

  “Any questions?” Knudson said.

  The somber men shook their heads.

  “Then you are excused. Meet again at sundown for a full report.”

  The guards stood to leave, chattering informally until they noticed him in the shadows. Then they fell silent, each bowed in passing.

  When Trask neared, the Guide motioned for him. “Trask, come.”

  Trask approached and dropped his head in respect. “Yes your honor?”

  “I assume all went as planned last night with Jasper?”

  Trask nodded. “Yes, he was alive and chained to the stone when we left him.”

  “Good,” said the Guide. “That is all.”

  Trask left and the Guide walked to the table and greeted Knudson. Although anxious to see the damage over the balcony, he decided to wait until they’d spoken.

  “You were right,” Knudson said. “The guards followed Endell from the castle. He went straight to the gardens an
d came out in a black cape that he must have stashed there earlier.”

  “A cape?” asked the Guide.

  Knudson nodded. “Yes, of the Resistance.”

  The Guide opened his eyes in fake surprise.

  “Do you know what happened this morning?” Knudsen asked.

  The Guide shook his head. “I’ve been sleeping, why didn’t somebody to wake me.”

  Knudson frowned, “I sent someone first thing. When I find him…”

  “No matter, tell me what happened.”

  “I have terrible news,” Knudson continued. “Endell took a small box into the marketplace. He met King Len and—”

  “—King Len was with him?”

  “No, he was in the marketplace. Endell found him there and killed him along with hundreds of others, including one of the guards I had following him.”

  “Killed?” said the Guide, hiding his pleasure with mock dismay.

  “Yes,” nodded Knudson. “Your Highness, Endell had something magical in that box. It exploded and killed hundreds of people today.”

  The Guide stood abruptly and walked to the railing. He looked out into the marketplace and covered his mouth in false horror. But then, he was horrified. It was clear from the crater in the ground, charred bodies, and collapsed wall that the center of the explosion had not been where he had intended. It had been near the great wall.

  He spoke in broken words, to feign a struggle with emotions. “So there,” he pointed, “he detonated this box by the great wall?”

  “The surviving guard saw it from a distance and we don’t know exactly what happened. He thinks that Len must have realized what Endell was up to at the last minute, grabbed the box and tried to throw it over the wall out of the marketplace. But it didn’t make it. I don’t think Len was with the Resistance. I think he tried to stop the explosion.”

  The Guide thought for a moment as his thoughts raced and he planned his next move. “Do you think the Resistance assassinated the king?”

  “It appears so, although we haven’t been able to identify the bodies. Most are burned beyond recognition.”

  No identification? The Guide suddenly felt a shutter of panic, what if Len was alive? He had to know. This couldn’t be left to chance.

  “So,” he said, deceitfully hopeful, “you are telling me the king may still be alive?”

  “It’s possible, but highly doubtful.”

  “I assume you are working hard to confirm this?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “What about Endell?” the Guide asked.

  “Most likely killed, everyone near where they were standing was obliterated. This was a suicide mission.”

  “But, again, you don’t know for sure.”

  Knudson shook his head. “We may not be able to find out for sure either. It’s dreadful down there, I went down earlier.”

  The Guide studied the scene below. The chances that Len survived were slim, assuming they hadn’t moved from where he detached from Endell’s body. He had sensed Endell on his return to the lair, there was no chance he survived. Unless somehow he’d made it back…no, that was impossible. Nobody could resist the light. A fresh soul was helpless in that world. It couldn’t move or think at all when first introduced into the afterlife. The light took them easily. Learning control took time and instruction. Yes, Endell certainly perished. But Len? And what about the others? The two others with Len were surely with the Resistance and they were far enough away to have survived. He remembered their faces, but who were they? He would have his artist render them; they would be found.

  “I think you are right. Len tried to stop this from happening. Maybe that’s what his secrecy was about last night. I doubt he survived. Had he lived, he would be down there helping others or seeking medical attention,” the Guide said.

  Knudson nodded.

  “If, however, we do find him alive, it would be suspicious. Why would he go into hiding? Either way it is bad news. He is either dead or a traitor.”

  Knudsen’s expression fell. “Yes, that makes sense.”

  “Let’s assume he has been murdered and move forward. Instruct the guard to watch closely for him. If he is found, they are to bring him back quietly, dead or alive. Meanwhile, we honor him as a fallen hero. I believe that is in the best interest of our people. What do you think?”

  Knudson looked surprised at the request for his opinion. He stuttered. “…well, yes, I do. But what of the queen? There is no question in my mind that she was hiding something. She and Migun were defiant and wouldn’t talk. If they were trying to stop this, why wouldn’t they tell me? Unless they didn’t trust any of us…”

  This was not a line of thought he wanted Knudson exploring. The queen and Migun could not return and Knudson had to believe he’d done the right thing. “Has Marchello returned?”

  Knudson shook his head. “No, they are under instructions to stay until they extract the information.”

  “Send somebody to check on them. Perhaps we will learn more before this is over. But the queen’s actions are highly questionable. Maybe she was involved and that is how Len learned of the attack. Maybe that’s how he knew where to try and stop it. Didn’t you say you’d heard yelling from their bedroom earlier in the evening?”

  Knudson nodded.

  “I suspect Len uncovered her secret and hopefully Marchello will do the same. We have to think about Gardone. The Offering last year upset too many people and it took months to recover. We already face a difficult situation with Jasper’s banishment. The people love and admire them all. And now we have the queen potentially banished and the king assassinated? We can’t have that. We need the people united with us, against the Resistance. And we need Delorah to be strong for the Offering next year.”

  Knudson’s sighed, “What can we do?”

  “We honor her, too.” The Guide said and looked hard into the eyes of Knudson.

  “Delorah?”

  “No, the queen. We say she was with her husband in the marketplace when the Resistance attacked. We can say her maiden, Migun, was also present. Once our people learn this band of revolutionists have killed their beloved king and queen in addition to hundreds of innocent bystanders, they will stand with us. They will have to. The Resistance has launched an attack against them. They will eagerly adhere to our state of martial law and help us root this evil.”

  Knudson gazed glossy-eyed across the valley. Finally, he said, “It doesn’t feel right, but I don’t see any other way. Not if we want to keep the peace.”

  “It’s good for the people and good for Delorah. It gives her an even higher purpose and reason to be strong. Her Offering next year will not only be for the Kingdom, but serve to defy the protestors who murdered her parents. It will avenge their deaths.”

  Knudson continued to stare blankly. “This morning I was convinced the dark ones had attacked. I couldn’t imagine that members of our own kingdom would do something like this, it’s hard to believe. They have more power and hatred than I imagined…and now magic. Stopping them isn’t going to be easy.”

  The Guide rested his hand gently on Knudson’s shoulder. “You are a good man, a kind, caring, and wise leader. And it is good to fear these traitors. We’ll use this fear to unite our kingdom; together we’ll eliminate our enemies and reclaim the peace we have known.”

  Knudson covered his eyes wept silently. It was some time before he spoke. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think I’d ever see a day like this again. I thought it was behind us.”

  “I had hoped we wouldn’t, but I live every day afraid of it. That’s our job, you know, to be afraid. To make the hard choices and banish anyone who breaks our rules so these types of things won’t happen.” The Guide spoke gingerly. “I am glad to see the depth of your emotions. Your compassion makes you strong.”

  The Guide squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “Keep me updated.” He took a step back. “I am going to check on Delorah.”

  Chapter 13

  An Invasive P
oison

  “I’m not happy about it either but we had no choice,” Jewell said as Sharel rolled her eyes. “They were about to kill Tari, remember?” She spoke slow, drenching the words in sarcasm.

  “They wouldn’t have killed her,” Sharel said with a sharp, belittling tone.

  Jasper bounced his legs, feeling uneasy. He hated confrontations like this. Sharel was obviously in the wrong, how could she defend the guards after what they had done? Why couldn’t she just open her eyes to the truth so they could all just get along?

  “We’ve seen these guards kill before, we’ve watched them beat people senseless. Sometimes they survive, we are proof of that. But most of the time they don’t. We’ve held back in the past and regretted it. You remember Hammer? The old man that played music in the marketplace?” Jewell asked.

  Sharel nodded indignantly.

  “Not two moons ago we watched them torture and chain him to the wall, just like they were going to do to you. We thought he would survive until they left. We didn’t do anything and by the time we got to him it was too late. We could have saved him.”

  “I’m sure he deserved it; there is a reason he was banished,” Sharel said.

  Crazybeard jumped to his feet, “You piece of—”

  “—Gareth!” interrupted Jewell. “Let me handle this.”

  With a frown and grumble, Crazybeard sat down. Jasper noticed that everyone was glaring at Sharel. Everyone except Mother and Migun, who were recovering in Jewell’s hut.

  “He wasn’t the only one we lost.” Jewell’s voice was easy now. “There have been many others. We haven’t wanted to give ourselves away so we have stayed back…but it’s not easy to watch them kill time and time again. It just so happened that now we decided not to risk of losing all three of you.”

  “Well, people aren’t banished without a reason; the guards are just doing their jobs,” Sharel said.

  “Then why were you banished?”

  “I wasn’t banished.” She laughed, mockingly.

  “Oh really? So why are you here?”

  “It was a mistake. They weren’t going to leave me.”