The Sword of Unmaking (The Wizard of Time - Book 2)

by G. L. Breedon

  The Sword of Unmaking

  (The Wizard of Time — Book 2)

  G. L. Breedon

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  Copyright 2013 by G.L. Breedon

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9837777-9-3

  This book is available in print at most online retailers.

  For more information:

  www.Kosmosaicbooks.com

  Prologue

  Fields of tall, gray-green grass undulate in the wind, rolling for miles and miles and miles until fading at the feet of an ice-capped mountain range.

  Beasts roam through the grass — tall, shaggy furred, with curved tusks flashing bone-white in the bleached sun.

  A man watches the past parade past a wide window. He wonders. To himself?

  Can he wonder to himself anymore? Is that what he is doing? Even now with his mouth closed and his mind elsewhere, he can hear the voices. His voice. His voices. How many now? Enough? Will there ever be enough?

  The man turns from the window and takes a sip of wine from a simple pewter cup.

  He can hear them in his mind. Even before they speak. Words they have spoken before.

  The other men sit and stand and pace and speak.

  “We should kill him.”

  “We did kill him.”

  “Once.”

  “We should kill him again.”

  “Only him?”

  “We should definitely kill him.”

  “There is no time.”

  “There is always time.”

  “We make time.”

  “We may need him.”

  “May need them both.”

  “If we can find it, we won’t need anyone.”

  “Anyone?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Do I?”

  “I’m not quite so sure.”

  “You there. You’ve…”

  “Been very…”

  “Silent.”

  Silence.

  “Why…”

  “So…”

  “Quiet?”

  Quiet.

  “Do I need to speak? You know my thoughts. We are of one mind, are we not?”

  “Which one are you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It may.”

  “Not this again.”

  “Pointless.”

  “We’ve been over this.”

  “No difference.”

  “None?”

  “None that matters.”

  “And there are other matters that do matter.”

  “Where is it?”

  “How can we get it?”

  “Should have killed him when we had the chance.”

  “But we died trying.”

  “Not the same.”

  “If we can find it…”

  “We can finish this.”

  “And kill him.”

  “Yes.”

  “And kill…”

  “Kill…”

  “Kill…”

  “Kill him.”

  The men smile. All save one. One who turns away. One who looks out on the past, past the words of the men, words of himself, words still echoing and mating and multiplying in his mind as he stares out the window, trying…trying to see…what?...the future?...yes.

  “What about the future?”

  There are no words now. Only…

  Stillness.

  Chapter 1: Extraction Expedition

  Vindobona. An exotic name for a common place. Not common in the sense of being like every other place, but common in the sense of being a place, like so many others, that would change its name, nature, and purpose throughout history.

  Beginning in 500 BCE as a simple Celtic village situated along the Danube River the settlement became a fortified Roman outpost by the spring of 180 CE. Given the name Vindobona, or “white base” by the Celts and renamed Flaviana Castra by the Romans, the town was sacked and destroyed later that year by the “barbarian” tribes of the Quadi and the Macromanni.

  By 600, the Lombards controlled the town, then the Avars, who gave it the Slavic name Wiena. The town soon became part of Charlemagne’s empire in 795, and later the seat of the Badenburg’s power in 1135, called by then Wienne, which became Vienna under the Habsburgs in 1273.

  Eventually, Vienna became the seat of the Holy Roman Empire, facing down a siege in 1529 by the tenth sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Suleyman the Magnificent. Later, the city blossomed into one of the greatest cultural and musical centers in all of Europe, home to composers like Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Joseph Hayden, Franz Schubert, Johannes Brahms, and Ludwig van Beethoven as well as visionary artists like Gustav Klimt and Egon Schiele.

  The capital of Austria by the time of World War I, and bombed extensively in World War II, the city of Vienna became, like so many of its European compatriot cities, a living museum, simultaneously a testament to 2500 years of history and the hope for a cultured and civilized future that might last equally as long.

  A red-breasted flycatcher fluttered through the branches of a beech tree, sending a twig twirling down to Gabriel’s head, bringing him back from his meandering historical reverie to the present — which, as usual for him, was really in the past.

  March 17, 180 CE. The date of a particular death, significant not merely to history, but potentially important to the course of the War of Time and Magic. At least Gabriel hoped it was March 17. It could be hard to tell when there were no calendars or newspapers around to check the date. Time travel wasn’t always an exact endeavor.

  Gabriel lowered his binoculars and brushed the twig from his hair, watching it twist through the air as it fell to the ground some twenty feet below. He sat at the edge of one of several wooden platforms stretching between two large trees. Draped with camouflage fabric, the platforms composed a simple tree house functioning as the Chimera team’s observation outpost. After realizing they could not pinpoint the date with any certainty, and hence could not know the exact time of their intended candidate’s extraction, Ohin had instructed them to construct an observation station from which they could survey the fortified Roman outpost of Vindobona.

  Heeding Sema’s advice to find a location with few people, they settled on a small forest of trees right across the Danube River from the walls of the Roman fort. Gabriel had been very attentive as he watched Rajan use Stone Magic to reform fallen branches and trees into planks of wood. Using Wind Magic, Ling had floated the planks into position between two trees near the edge of the riverbank while Marcus used Heart-Tree Magic to affix the planks to the tree trunks. They each carried a large piece of camouflage netting in their packs, and among them there had been enough to conceal the entire tree house.

  Gabriel found living in a tree house fun. For the first day. Now, nearing the end of the fourth day, he felt ready for a real bed and anything resembling a hot bath, much less a functioning toilet. It had taken the team three days to locate the candidate. Ohin had traveled in small jumps into the future to determine the window of extraction, but it required several days for Marcus to create the Replacement after taking a hair sample. It still left them with little to do beyond monitor the candidate constantly so they would have enough warning before the extraction, and keep Vindobona under observation in case Malignancy Mages showed up to disrupt the plan. It had not been the most exciting week in the year since Gabriel had undergone his own extraction.

  “I hate these dull extrac
tions.”

  Gabriel turned his head as Teresa flopped down beside him, crossing her long legs and leaning forward to rest her face on the heels of her slender hands.

  “I. Am. So. Bored.” Teresa sighed, and Gabriel laughed.

  “How can you be bored with an entire Roman Legion to keep watch over?” Gabriel asked, struggling to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  “Seen anything interesting today?”

  “A boat full of soldiers crossed to this side of the Danube.”

  “Exactly. Boring. Give me a good old twentieth century extraction any day. Calendars, newspapers, TV. Always something handy to let you know when and where you are. None of this watching from tree houses and sneaking through towns, trying not to be noticed. Your extraction? That was great.”

  “How do you always manage to find the least appropriate subject to talk about at the most inappropriate time?” Rajan lowered the book he had been reading as he leaned against one of the tree trunks supporting their outpost.

  “She has an appalling lack of consideration for other people’s feelings,” Ling said from where she sat in a branch above them, whittling a small wooden figurine with a thin-bladed dagger.

  “Ooo, irony,” Teresa said.

  Ling flicked a splinter of wood at Teresa’s head. It evaporated into ash before it reached her. Teresa and Ling exchanged false smiles.

  “Don’t be such a Melinda Manners. He’s fascinated by this stuff.” Teresa turned to Gabriel.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, I guess it’s sort of interesting,” Gabriel said, not at all sure how he felt about the subject of his own extraction — his own death.

  “Your extraction was both easy and exciting,” Teresa said, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm.

  “For you, maybe. I only remember drowning.” Gabriel frowned at the memory.

  “Sure, that sucked,” Teresa said, “but the whole dying thing isn’t the worst part of the extraction.”

  “I cannot believe you just said that.” Rajan blinked incredulously.

  “It’s not,” Teresa said, her tone suddenly defensive. “How could it be? He’s alive, isn’t he? We’re all alive. We die and then Marcus brings us back to life. The easy part.”

  “I doubt Marcus would call reviving people after death easy,” Ling said with a snort.

  “Marcus is overly dramatic.” Teresa pulled up the sleeves of her green and brown camouflage tunic. They all wore similar tunics to help them blend into the forest. “The hard part is switching the candidate with the Replacement before anyone notices.”

  Gabriel couldn’t help but glance at the blanket-shrouded form lying at the edge of the observation platform. If he stared at it too long he might imagine it breathing.

  “I will admit, the actual extraction can be exhilarating,” Rajan said. “Knowing you’re helping to save someone’s life.”

  “And rip them away from their loved ones and everything they ever knew.” Ling sliced deeply into the wooden figure taking shape in her hands.

  “I’m trying to make an inappropriate conversation a little more bearable.” Rajan looked up to where Ling perched on her branch, her lean legs dangling down. “You’re not helping.”

  A woodchip flew in his direction. He ducked his head.

  “Ignore them.” Teresa turned again to Gabriel. “The point is, your extraction was easy and fun. Big headlines in the papers. Exact location. Pinpoint time for the extraction. And no witnesses.”

  “That’s because they drowned,” Gabriel said, frowning even deeper.

  “I know,” Teresa said, frowning herself. “Accidents are always difficult. Mine was a car crash. Very messy. A big crowd. I hear it was a very complicated extraction.”

  “It was,” Rajan said, a frown now on his face.

  “But a bus, underwater, with no bystanders around,” Teresa said. “That’s easy. And we got to learn how to scuba drive specifically for the extraction.”

  “The diving was not fun,” Rajan said.

  “It was great fun,” Teresa said. “It’s not our fault you’re afraid of water.”

  “I can’t swim,” Rajan said. “Of course I’m afraid of water.”

  “I couldn’t really swim, either,” Gabriel said. “I only had a couple of lessons.”

  “Then why did you do it?” Ling asked, lowering herself down from the tree branch to sit beside Rajan.

  “I don’t know,” Gabriel said.

  “Knowing him, he didn’t even stop to think about it, and plunged right in,” Teresa said, her tone slightly teasing.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Gabriel said, fumbling with the binoculars as he considered the question — a question he had contemplated many times in the last year. “It seemed like the right thing to do. I thought I could help. How could I not help? ”

  “No one else did,” Teresa said.

  “You died giving others life,” Ling said. “That’s something to be proud of.”

  “So did you,” Rajan said softly.

  “Hmm,” Ling said, her gaze thoughtful. “I suppose that’s true.”

  Gabriel remembered Ling had died in childbirth — the first time she had died. The second time had been at the hands of one of the multiple Apollyons, and Gabriel had risked the stability of the entire Primary Continuum to save her. He hoped her next death would be a long, long time ahead in her personal timeline. And in his own, for that matter.

  “Saving people’s lives, precise underwater extractions…that’s exciting,” Teresa said, doggedly sticking to the theme of her rant. “None of this sitting around for days in the trees watching someone die of smallpox. It feels cruel.”

  Gabriel nearly replied that the cruel part was telling the candidate they’d been saved from death so they could be recruited to fight in the War of Time and Magic when something prickled the back of his mind. He reached out for the magical Grace imprints of his pocket watch as his time-sense expanded. He turned to the source of the space-time disturbance as Ohin appeared behind him.

  Gabriel released the imprints of his pocket watch and exhaled a silent sigh. He had expected it to be Ohin, but anything could happen. It would not have been the first time Malignancy Mages appeared in the midst of a mission.

  “It is time,” Ohin said as he pulled a small, green fabric mask from his mouth and nose, letting it dangle around his neck. Smallpox was too contagious to tempt fate. Everyone in the team had similar masks dangling at their necks. “Marcus says he is close. It will not be long. The extraction begins now. Ling, ready the Replacement.”

  “Right.” Ling slid to her feet and ducked under a low branch as the Replacement gently floated into the air. The blanket, seemingly of its own volition, wrapped itself tightly around the still form of the Replacement.

  “Teresa, you’re our eyes outside the bubble,” Ohin said. “If anything seems out of place, you know what to do.”

  “Nothing escapes my gaze,” Teresa said brightly. “I’m like the many-eyed Argus. All seeing.”

  Ohin narrowed his own eyes at Teresa, but she stared back serenely.

  He turned to Gabriel. “You will create the time-dilation bubble.”

  “I know,” Gabriel said.

  Ohin’s instructions were largely superfluous. The team had planned and rehearsed the extraction for several days. But Ohin liked to do things in an orderly fashion, and reiterating each team member’s role in the mission helped keep everyone in order.

  “The whole room, or only near the bed?”

  “There are two attendants with him,” Ohin said. “It will have to be the whole room. The quarters are tight and we will need space for Sema and Marcus and Ling.”

  “I’ll prepare the observation platform for departure,” Rajan said, putting his book in a nearby knapsack as he stood up.

  “Good,” Ohin said, “but wait until we return before you dissolve it completely. Marcus will need time for the revival and healing. Everyone ready?”

  Ohin spread his gaze across hi
s team. Gabriel felt a cauldron of excited energy bubbling up within him. Teresa was right. However morbid and morally confusing extractions might be — they were exciting.

  Gabriel grabbed the Sword of Unmaking from where it rested between a yoke of branches and slid its strap over his shoulder. He had grown enough in the last year for it to fit at his waist, but now it felt too comfortable on his back to wear it any other way.

  Satisfied that everyone stood prepared for their roles in the mission, Ohin pulled his mask up over his mouth and nodded for the others to do the same. Then Gabriel felt the all-too-familiar tug at his space-time sense, and blackness enveloped everything.

  A brief whiteness followed, fading to reveal a long, wooden bed at the side of a small, stone-walled room. There were three windows, covered with a thin, pale fabric, allowing the afternoon sun to illuminate the chamber. Tapestries with simple geometric patterns draped the walls.

  The candidate lay on the bed while two young male attendants in short white togas stood nearby, applying a cold compress to the dying man’s forehead.

  Sema and Marcus stood at the back of the room, clear of the bed and the attendants. Marcus winked at Gabriel, and Sema gave him a look of motherly caution. He could sense the Soul Magic she used to turn the attention of the dying man and the attendants away from herself and the others, rendering the team virtually invisible.

  Ohin stood beside Sema while Teresa took up a position near the cloth-covered doorway as Gabriel stepped over beside Marcus.

  “Any moment,” Marcus said softly, turning his attention to the man lying on the ornately embroidered cushions of the bed. “He is very close.”

  “Someone else is close, as well,” Teresa whispered from where she peeked through the thick, red fabric covering the doorway. “A soldier.”

  Gabriel sensed Sema reaching out with magic to the mind of the soldier beyond the entranceway, even as the man reached out to pull the curtain aside and step into the room. He did not notice Teresa standing a foot away, and he never even glanced at Gabriel or the others bunched up at the back of the room.

  His red tunic and banded armor resembled that of nearly all the soldiers of the legion, but the fanned crest of the helmet he held in the crook of his arm denoted him as a military leader. Gabriel had seen him several times before, usually through binoculars. The camp tribune — responsible for maintaining a smooth-running outpost.