The World Awakening

by Dan Koboldt

  Chapter 33

  Departures

  “Stage magicians are night creatures. But then again, so is most of Vegas.”

  —Art of Illusion, January 4

  Trumpets made an enemy of Quinn Bradley that morning. They announced daybreak to the Valteroni palace, a rousting of everyone who would join the expedition to the cold north. Quinn had too little sleep under his belt, and could not be less ready. His clothes were strewn across two different rooms in his chambers. He found his shirt on the solid marble table, and one of his boots beneath the tipped-over divan.

  If this were a five-star hotel, I’d be losing my deposit right now.

  He gathered everything slowly and dressed in layers for the cold—light linen shirt, flexsteel armor, second linen shirt. He buckled on his sword, and strapped the quiver over his shoulder. It felt good to hold his bow again, though he wished he’d found some time to practice shooting. If all went well, he wouldn’t have to use it. Then again, when was the last time everything didn’t go to hell? Shaking his head, he draped the heavy cloak over his arm and walked out. Jillaine waited in the hallway. She’d tied back her hair, and wore the bounty hunter garb from Caralis. Leathers and all. He felt the big grin on his face. “I dig it.”

  “You . . . like it.”

  “Exactly. Hey, you remembered.”

  “I like your alien way of speaking.”

  “Alien?”

  She shrugged. “You are from another world.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Not sure I ever asked.

  She gave his hand a squeeze and leaned against him. “I dig it.”

  They left the palace proper and made their way back to the stable yard. The air was cool, but downright balmy compared to what they’d face in northern Alissia. Wisps of fog drifted over the ground. Richard Holt stood over by the stables, scooping grain for three horses. It was interesting to see the Valteroni Prime doing such menial work. Quinn looked around. No Veena, for once. He knew she had to stay here to run Valteron, but he kind of hoped he’d get to see her again. Oh well.

  He gave Jillaine a little nudge. “See those animals over there? They’re called horses. Kind of like Tioni smart mules, but way better.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I’ve heard of them. But don’t let a mule hear you say that.”

  Alethea and her guardswomen stood nearby, thumbing the handles of their weapons. For once, they weren’t leaning against something, or lounging on the ground. They must be nervous. Escorting the Prime to another part of the continent, a war zone, would have had him sweating, too.

  Quinn looked around some more, but didn’t see Moric or Anton, either. “Where is everyone?”

  Jillaine’s eyes lost focus for a moment. She pushed Quinn over by the fence.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Someone is coming.”

  Moric and Anton appeared out of thin air in the middle of the yard. Anton released Moric’s shoulder and breathed deeply, the Caralissian noble’s equivalent of bending over double with exertion. Apparently, Moric had let him handle the transportation for both of them.

  Now there’s something you don’t see very day. Moric saving his strength. “Morning!” Quinn called. “I didn’t realize you were gone.”

  “We had to get something,” Anton said.

  Quinn saw no packages, no bundles, no weapons. Just four empty hands. “What?”

  Moric smiled. “Reinforcements.”

  Sella winked into existence between them. “Well, don’t just stand there.” She chivvied Moric and Anton off toward the fence as other Enclave magicians began appearing in the yard. Every council member, every person with magical talent on the island that Quinn knew showed up to join the coalition’s most important mission.

  “Hey, there’s Leward!” Quinn waved to his Pirean friend, who hurried over with his younger brother in tow.

  “Quinn!” They wore identical grins as they shook his hand.

  “Hey, guys. Welcome to Valteron City.” He shook their hands. “Everett, how are those lessons coming?”

  “I’m still alive,” Everett said.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Richard emerged from the stables on a massive bay stallion. He held the reins but hardly used them, preferring to nudge the animal with his knees. “If I may have your attention, everyone? Find yourself a mount and meet in the center of the yard.”

  Quinn pulled Jillaine over toward the stables. “Come on, I don’t want to end up with a mule this time.” They reached the door, only to find a stable boy coming out with a pair of mounts.

  “I think these will suit you both,” Richard said over his shoulder.

  Quinn made no claims of horse expertise, but he knew a thoroughbred bloodline when he saw it. Both animals had them, and the one on the left had a familiar face. “Hey, that’s my mare!”

  “We found her in a stable in the city,” Holt said. “I wondered if she was yours.”

  “That was very thoughtful,” Quinn said. He patted the mare’s head, and wondered if she recognized him. Most horses didn’t give him the time of day. He expected this would be no different, so it was a pleasant surprise when she turned to nuzzle his hand. “Aw, you do remember me.”

  Everyone mounted and assembled in the center of the yard. An odd silence fell over them as Sella began the enchantment. The rising power of it made the hair on Quinn’s arms rise. He’d never really thought about how powerful a magician she was. Imagine if I’d really pissed her off.

  Her voice rose. The wind swirled in a tempest around them. Quinn grabbed Jillaine’s hand, just to reassure himself. Then the world jerked sideways into cold darkness. White light bloomed, revealing a wintry landscape of evergreens coated in snow. More of the white stuff fell heavily with the biting-cold wind, nearly obscuring the dark mountain range that loomed to the north. The mare was shaking like a leaf. He put a hand against her neck and made shushing noises to calm her. By the time he was done, his fingers were starting to numb. He chuckled.

  We’re in Felara, all right.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, Wenthrop should be right . . . Sweet Jesus, what the hell is that? The village was there, all right—with a newly built inn, no less—but surrounded by a vast tent city five times its size. Horses and wagons and armor-clad soldiers occupied every patch of open ground. A haze of smoke hung over the encampment, seemingly held up by the dark columns from dozens of campfires. He ducked around his mare and found Jillaine, who stared up at the sky. “Hey. You all right?”

  A look of wonder spread across her face. “Look at it.”

  All he saw was a featureless gray sky and the promise of a blizzard. “What?”

  “So much snow.”

  “You’ve seen snow before.”

  “Not falling like this.” She held out her hand, palm up. “It’s enchanting.”

  “So are you.” He leaned down and kissed her. This was war, and the future wasn’t assured. He simply didn’t give a damn about who might see it.

  “And you said Felara was cold,” she said.

  He looked back at the thickening snow. “I just hope it doesn’t make us blind.”

  The blizzard worsened as they made the trek north into the mountains. Quinn and Jillaine rode with most of the Enclave magicians behind the main forces. The two columns of infantry—one Valteroni, one Caralissian—stretched for a quarter mile in front of them. Richard and Anton led the van, and crested a ridge that looked down into the valley beyond. Not the gateway valley—that remained a half-day’s ride farther north, but a valley. Anton signaled.

  “What does that mean?” Quinn asked.

  “They don’t see anyone,” Sella said.

  Well, there’s some good news. Maybe they’d be able to get right to the gateway without any confrontation.

  Anton and Richard disappeared from view as they led the column forward and down. Every sound came muted because of the snow. More and more of the infantry lines disappeared beyond the far ridge.

  “It
’s hard to believe that the third great enchantment lies hidden up here in the mountains,” Jillaine said.

  “You know, if we succeed here, you’re going to be down to two.”

  “Not really.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Look at how much it’s changed our world.” She pointed ahead. “Armies from Valteron and Caralis marching side by side. Enclave magicians getting out and doing something for once.” She brushed aside an errant strand of hair and looked at him. “And then there’s you.”

  He grinned. “And then there’s me.”

  They reached the top of the ridge and could see all the way down to the front of the lines, which reached nearly to the far end of the vale. He recognized this area, too. That meant the gateway cave wasn’t far. But the valley looked a little different than he remembered it. Huge snowdrifts piled up on the sides, obscuring most of the boulders. The slopes were narrower, too, forcing the two lines to march more closely together. Maybe it’s not the same valley. It was, though—he recognized a pile of three boulders that looked like Stonehenge. A distinctive landmark, but the landscape around it had . . . shifted. “Whoa.” Quinn pulled back on his reins. The mare snorted, but stopped short.

  Sella cursed. “Stop, please!” This was directed at the mule. “Give us a warning if you’re going to stop, boy!”

  Jillaine must have seen the concern on his face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Something doesn’t feel right.” He scanned the valley’s rim, trying to pick out the differences. Which is how he saw the glint of metal up high on the right-hand side. What in the hell? A distant percussion sounded, then another right on top of it. A high-pitched whine filled the air.

  “Ambush!” Quinn shouted. The men at the end of the line, which had advanced about thirty yards, looked back in puzzlement.

  Then they disappeared in an explosion of smoke and earth.

  Quinn’s mare reared back, screaming, and nearly trampled over Sella. Another explosion rocked the ground deeper in the vale. Then gunfire erupted from the rims of the vale. The soldiers scattered from their lines.

  Quinn half-fell out of his saddle. “Take cover!” He dragged his mare backward by the reins. She tossed her head, fighting him. Jillaine struggled to do the same with her mount. Moric and Sella didn’t have to even ask the Tioni mules to run back; they fled over the ridge on their own.

  More gunfire erupted. Anton and Moric must have given an order, because both armies began a charge up the right-hand side of the vale to get at the attackers. Arrows flew and were met by gunfire. Quinn freed his bow and quiver from their lashings and nocked an arrow. He crept over the ridge. He could see the attackers now; they wore white-and-gray snow camouflage and lay prone against the unnatural snow embankments. The nearest one was no more than forty yards distant. A reachable shot. He had a long-barrel rifle and kept firing, over and over. Quinn felt himself draw the arrow to his cheek. He took aim in slow motion. Gauged distance, held his breath, found the pin, and released.

  His arrow took the sniper in the throat. Blood splattered the snow in a wide arc. He tumbled over with a gurgled scream. Bullets struck the snow at Quinn’s feet. Shit! He dove back over the ridge into cover. Soldiers charged up toward the ambushers, but it was slow going up the steep, snow-covered slopes. Sella whispered a word and gestured. One of the false embankments shuddered and fell apart, revealing four camouflaged mercenaries behind it. They scrambled for cover, but Valteroni bowmen fired a volley and dropped two of them. The others made it behind a second embankment. Sella leveled that one a heartbeat later. Another deep percussion sounded. This time, Jillaine was ready—she made a sweeping movement and spoke a word. A white, glittering shell formed like a roof above the soldiers’ heads. The mortar shells struck it and detonated, showering fragments down below but doing no more harm than that.

  Anton appeared out of nowhere, with a man clutched in his arms. “Help us!”

  Quinn hurried forward and helped him lower the other man to the ground. Blood stained his robes, and each breath came with a wheezed. He’d been shot at least once in the torso. Then Quinn looked at his face, and cold realization came. It was Richard Holt. Oh, gods.

  “Moric!”

  The balding magician appeared at his side. “Gods,” he whispered, echoing Quinn’s thoughts.

  Holt’s eyes opened. He smiled, albeit weakly. “Just a scratch, old friend.”

  Moric closed his eyes and put his hands on the man’s stomach. Quinn stood back.

  Anton’s eyes had a haunted look to them. “What is this madness?”

  “Alien weapons,” Quinn said.

  “He was standing right next to me when they hit him. They’re slaughtering our men like sheep.”

  “Can you get out of the vale?”

  “They have reinforcements coming out of the next valley. We’re going to be penned in before long.”

  Quinn’s mind raced. We’re drawing them away from the cave.

  Moric finished his delving magic and stood back. His face was grim. “I have never seen injuries like this before. There’s . . .” he trailed off and shook his head.

  “Nothing you can do,” Holt finished.

  How can this be happening? Quinn knelt beside him. Tried putting pressure on the wounds, but his clothes were just soaked with blood. Just soaked with it. Then he felt Richard’s hand around his wrist.

  “Quinn.” A haze of pain had settled on Richard’s face, but his eyes were bright. “You know what you have to do.”

  Quinn shook his head. “I’m sorry. Anton said there are reinforcements coming down from the gateway valley.” No way out.

  “Exactly. We’re—” he broke off in a fit of wet coughs. When they ended, he drew a long, rattling breath. “Now’s your chance.”

  More gunfire sounded as the mercenaries made another coordinated attack. Two dozen soldiers went down. Anton cursed. “I need to get back down there.”

  “Wait!” Quinn put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold them as long as you can.”

  “That may well be suicide.” He made a face. “But the Valteroni lines are holding, and so will we.” He disappeared without another word.

  “Moric, you’ve seen the cave, haven’t you?” Quinn asked. “Could you take us there?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Moric said. “There has to be something we can do for him.”

  “There isn’t,” Quinn said.

  “How can you be so cold?”

  “I’m not—this might be our only chance.”

  Holt reached out and found Moric’s hand. “Go, Moric. He’s right.”

  Moric looked up at Quinn. “It’s tight in there, and I’ll need most of my strength to work on the gateway.”

  Quinn stood and drew his sword. “You also need someone to watch your back.”

  Moric put a hand on Richard’s chest. They shared a look, a silent farewell. Then Moric stood and reached out to clasp Quinn’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  He knew he shouldn’t have, but he looked at Jillaine anyway. Her eyes were down in the vale, and he could sense the power of the magic coursing through her. He willed her to look at him, and she did. Her beautiful forehead furrowed in confusion. Then realization dawned. She set her jaw. Took a step toward them.

  Quinn wished he had time to tell her once more how perfect she was, but there was no way she’d be on board with this desperate plan. Worse, she’d insist to come along. Neither was all right. Quinn gave her a sad smile, blew her a kiss, and said to Moric, “Let’s go.”

  The world jerked sideways into darkness and then back into dim daylight. They stood an inch away from the stone cave wall with the crazy markings on it.

  “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” Quinn whispered.

  “I told you, it’s tight in here,” Moric said.

  Quinn eased his sword out of the scabbard and slipped around him, taking the front position as they crept into the chamber that held the gateway. It was empty, but f
or the flickering dome-shaped portal that led back to Earth. There it is. His hackles rose when he saw it. He felt the ball of magic inside of him pulsing in rhythm with the flickers across the surface. “I sense it now.”

  Moric approached the gateway slowly, almost with a reverence. He touched the stone just to the side of it. “Gods, what a creation. It almost seems a shame to destroy it.”

  “Can I help you?”

  Moric sat cross-legged on the floor. “Tell me about the place where the gateway opens on your world.”

  Quinn sat beside him. “It’s a cave, kind of like this one. The main cavern is larger, but the stone looks about the same. The company built a whole complex around it.” How the hell do I describe that? Probably better not to even try. “The cave itself is on a small island. A tropical island, deep in a southern ocean. It’s much warmer there than here. Like summer compared to winter.”

  “The same, but different.”

  “That’s a good way to put it.”

  Moric reached out and took both of his hands. His grip was like dry parchment. “Picture the place in your mind.”

  Quinn closed his eyes and did just that, trying to ignore the buzz of magic that was growing between them. He called up his image of the gateway the last time he’d seen it, hidden behind double Plexiglas doors in a room filled with computers and equipment. He remembered the massive armory with its host of medieval weapons. The prototyping lab, where he’d perfected some of his equipment. Kiara’s austere office.

  “Good,” Moric said. “Very good. I believe I understand your gateway and ours. And the link between them . . . gods, it’s a thing of beauty.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely, but can you do something about it before someone finds us here?”

  “I’ll try. Make sure that I’m not interrupted.” Moric took a breath, and began chanting in a low voice.

  Quinn felt the power begin to grow in him. He heard something in the narrow tunnel that led to outside. A scrape of leather against stone. A heavy footstep, then another. Crap. He raised his sword and crept out into the corridor . . .