by Stas Borodin
“I’m tired of fish too,” I nodded. “A little more and a loaf of bread will cost you a whole torh…”
Ice grinned. “But we have pigeons. Let’s fry a couple!”
Bevid licked his lips. “Very tempting,” he said, “but I won’t let you hurt the birdies. They are like part of the family now.”
The next day, an excited Ovayn entered the room. “Great news!” he said. “A couple of days ago, the Paarians sank the whole Gonkor landing party at the Iron Finger! Ten ships and fifteen thousand infantry and cavalry, complete with six months’ worth of food rations!”
“Well done, Red Beards!” Bevid slapped his knee. “Well done!”
Ice squeezed my shoulder. “I wish we were there too!” he exclaimed. “Instead of in this damned necropolis.”
“That’s not all,” continued Ovayn. “The king announced total mobilization, so don’t even think about going out.”
“Can you imagine this army?” Ice chuckled. “All dressed in white underwear with green branches instead of swords!”
Ovayn nodded in agreement. “And that’s not the only thing. The king called for all the allies to build a new, bigger and stronger armada.”
“Now that’s interesting,” grunted Bevid, taking out his pencil and a sheet of paper.
✽✽✽
A few days later, Hrianon entered our room. Her face was dirty, but happy. The girl smelled like an alchemist’s grave.
“We made it!” she said. “We made the powder!”
She grabbed me and Ice and dragged us to the basement.
Eimor stood in the centre of the room on a large sheet of copper. The metal under his feet was covered with countless coloured marks and burns. The swordsman was robed in a thick leather apron, with heavy boots and long leather gloves laced at the back. His face was hidden behind a steel mask with narrow slits for the eyes.
Bevid and Ovayn were already here. We were ushered into the far corner of the basement behind a makeshift wall made of sand-filled sacks.
Hrianon took out a small vial filled with a black powder. She carefully measured a small capful and poured it in the centre of the copper sheet. She slapped Eimor on the shoulder and ran to us.
“Watch!” she said. “Behold the true power of the wonder powder!”
Eimor took a long iron rod from the hearth, brought it to the powder and set it on fire.
A blinding flash lit the basement with unbearably bright white light.
When our vision finally returned, we saw that the flames had burned the copper sheet through as if it was a mere sheet of paper.
“I can do that too,” Ice muttered. “And without your lighting effects!”
“I know!” exclaimed Hrianon. “But now everyone can. And you need no special powers to do so. You don’t have to be a wizard.”
“I was wrong, agreeing to help you with these experiments.” Eimor’s voice was muffled by the mask. “Do you have any idea what we just did?”
“Well,” Ovayn shrugged. “Anyone who can get a hold of your wonder powder can burn their neighbour’s house, competitor’s shop, or even an entire city block.”
“You have to be trained to wield such a force,” said Eimor, removing his mask. “You have to understand what you’re doing. Understand your responsibility.”
“This is what they told us back at the Academy,” Ice chuckled. “Imagine a freshman given such a power! The whole Academy, no, the whole of Paara would be in ruins the very same day!”
Hrianon frowned. “Don’t be stupid! It’s science. You can’t stop science!”
The iron mask clattered across the floor. “We can,” said Eimor. “And we will.”
Hrianon wrung her hands and turned away to the wall.
“Just imagine for a moment what would happen if your powder suddenly fell into the wrong hands,” said Bevid, putting his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “No fortress will protect us then. Entire armies would be lost in an instant, and the whole world might become a lifeless desert. This time, I’m with Eimor. Your discovery is too dangerous, girl. The world is not yet ready.”
I remembered the spheres hurled by the Zontrakian alchemists at our pikemen.
“I understand what you are afraid of, but look at it another way.” Hrianon wrung her hands. “Who do we fear most? You know the answer! The wizards! Who can stand against the mad magician? Right! No one. But now the era of fear is finally over! The reign of wizards has finally come to an end!”
“Are you serious?” Ice grunted. “And what if your powder is used by bad people? Take my dad. He would not bat an eyelid to use it against his precious neighbours.”
“But not everyone is like your father!” the girl snapped. “My powder will serve the greater good.”
“Sure,” Ice said. “And how will you decide who’s good and who’s evil? My father, for example, is a decent-looking middle-aged gentleman with family and pets. He doesn’t have a ‘cuckoo’ sign on his forehead. If you let the demon out of the box, you won’t be able to close it again!”
It was hard not to agree with my friend.
“Only the wizards can maintain the balance.” Eimor nodded at Ice. “Not all of them are an example to follow, but most of them are decent men who truly care about humanity.”
“Oh really?” Hrianon said. “Then who started the wars? The Hundred Years War? The Salt War? The War of the Copper Mountain? Your wizards, with their centuries of life experience, see us, simple mortals, as mere dust under their feet!”
“You have a point there, girl,” said Ovayn. “De-Shan, Spirit and Bren Aed were warlocks. If not for Avalor’s help, the entire civilized world would have been turned to ashes.”
Hrianon shook her head. “I know that! But if we had had my powder then, we could have fought the warlocks by ourselves, without Avalor’s help.”
Bevid frowned. “So you want to turn a commoner into a wizard? And a wizard into a commoner?”
“No.” I stood up. “She just wants to avenge her island.”
The girl looked at me with gratitude.
“But,” Eimor frowned, “the risk is too great.”
Ice stepped forward. “She will take an oath to keep the powder’s recipe secret. Right? I trust her!”
Hrianon pressed her small fist to her heart. “By all gods I swear to take this secret to the grave!”
“And you will,” Eimor sighed, taking a red-hot piece of iron out of the brazier. “I’m sorry, girl, but, as I already said, the risk is too great.”
“Back off,” Ice hissed, exhaling white wisps of hot smoke. Eimor flinched and stepped back.
“I trust her too,” I said, and joined my friend. Hrianon hid behind our backs.
“Very well, Master Wizards,” Eimor shrugged and threw the iron on the floor, “I shall obey your command, but from now on, you will be responsible for everything she does.”
Hrianon squeezed my hand and buried her face in my back.
“One more word and you go straight to Annuvir!” My friend’s voice sounded like the roar of a dragon.
Eimor took another step back. “What do you say, Master Grimm?” He turned to me.
I nodded. “No need to rush things. Only Master Aydiola can make the right decision.”
Eimor bowed. “A wise decision, Master Wizard.” The swordsman looked relieved. “I shall write to him right away.”
✽✽✽
Seeing the busy recruiters through the half-opened shutters, we didn’t dare leave the inn. Ovayn went out to meet his spies only under the cover of darkness. Meanwhile, Hrianon prepared a huge man-tall barrel of her wonder powder.
“We can blow up the royal palace or Astar’s residence,” she said, descending the ladder.
“But the explosion could kill many innocent people,” I said. “Don’t you care?”
Hrianon frowned. “No one is innocent in this city,” she said.
“We should wait for Master Aydiola’s reply,” Bevid said. “And only then will we decide what to do
next.”
The city seethed like a disturbed anthill. Every day, more and more transport ships entered Gonkor harbour. They barely had time to take recruits on board, docking by the wharves just for a couple of hours. As soon as the ships left the harbour, new groups of mercenaries gathered on the shore.
Instead of the White Brothers’ laughter, the streets were now filled with the clank of armour and a mix of dozens of foreign languages.
Ice and I were spying on the newcomers through the parted curtains.
“Just take a look at these dwarves!” Ice whispered. “They are so creepy!”
Indeed, the mercenaries stomping under our window were very short. You could easily mistake them for children if not for their stocky build, muscular arms and bearded faces. Their armour looked primitive and crude; some of them wore only thick iron circles on their chests. Their hands were painted with war paint and their long hair was braided. The only weapons I saw were heavy hammers of all shapes and sizes.
“They don’t look much,” Ice chuckled.
One of the dwarves stopped in front of Orvad’s statue, swung his hammer and struck it with all his might. The red granite shattered to pieces.
The dwarves laughed, slapping their champion on the back.
“Not much, you say?” Eimor peered out of the window. “These are the Highlanders of the Turukan Mountains. And I never saw them venture this far before.”
Ovayn came back. His shirt was soaked with blood.
Bevid examined the wound and reached for a needle and thread. “No big deal,” he said. “A few stitches and you will be as good as new.”
“I ran into some black fellas,” said Ovayn. “They looked like skens, but I couldn’t understand a word of their tongue…”
Bevid deftly slipped a thread through the eye of the needle. “Let me guess, they didn’t like you,” he suggested.
“On the contrary,” Ovayn grinned. “They liked my new boots!”
Hrianon sat in a corner, hugging her knees.
“I saw recruiters on Dekt too,” she said. “They promised us riches and lands in Paara.”
“Well, everything has changed now,” Bevid chuckled. “Nowadays Mistar wants your life for free.”
“Or for a glorious afterlife!” Ice nodded.
“That’s not all.” Ovayn carefully examined the stitches in his side. “The Zontrakian ambassador and his two legions of elite Zontrakian troops are on the way to Gonkor. The day after tomorrow there will be a big welcoming ceremony in Orvad’s Temple in the Lion Square.”
Hrianon jumped to her feet. “This is our chance! In one swift strike we can finish them all!”
“We are talking about twenty thousand soldiers, more or less,” Eimor grunted. “You have to be more realistic.”
Hrianon tsk-tsked. “How many can enter the temple?” she asked Ovayn.
“Five thousand, maybe more,” Ovayn replied. “But the rest will stay outside, surrounding the temple on all sides.”
Hrianon clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Good! We’ll blow the temple up and bury them all under the rubble! The King, Astar, Zontrakians and all their dogs!”
The room fell silent.
“It’s a daring plan,” Eimor broke the silence. “We have enough powder to blow up half the town.”
“However, the temple is out of reach,” said Ovayn. “The square will be flooded with soldiers and all the doors leading inside will be heavily guarded.”
“Not all of them,” Bevid said.
We turned to the grinning sailor.
“You guessed right,” he said. “Old Bevid knows how to get us inside.”
Chapter 5
“Each temple has a basement, and if there is a basement, there is an underground passage too. Thirty years ago, this building was a brothel, very popular among the servants of Orvad,” said Bevid. “They couldn’t visit the brothel openly, so the underground passage came in handy.”
Eimor grunted. “How come you know so much about the passage if you’re neither a monk nor a whore?”
“Thirty years ago,” Bevid sighed, “there was a young monk named Bevid…”
Ice whistled. “Wow! What an intriguing beginning!”
“Your holiness Bevid!” Hrianon giggled.
Under the cover of darkness, we left the inn, Bevid and Eimor pushing the cart while Hrianon, Ice and I followed behind.
A block away from the temple we broke into an abandoned building and wheeled the cart with the heavy barrel right into the dusty empty hall.
“As far as I remember, the underground passage is very narrow.” Bevid wiped the sweat from his forehead. “The barrel is too big, so we’ll have to divide the powder into several smaller sacks.”
We barricaded the door from the inside and moved the cart to the steep steps leading down. Eimor and Bevid lit their dark lanterns and dived into the darkness. Ice, Hrianon and I waited in the hall.
“Do you think it will work?” said Ice. “I mean, the amount of powder we have brought with us is insane!”
“If we destroy the temple’s foundation the building will crumble like a house of cards,” Hrianon replied.
Eimor and Bevid soon returned.
“The entrance to the tunnel is buried under a mountain of old junk,” the sailor announced. “So shift your skinny asses and get to work!”
For over an hour we fought with broken furniture and rusty kitchenware, clearing the entrance to the basement.
“I am sure this passage is long forgotten,” Bevid panted, pulling out a huge bale of old smelly mattresses.
“I hope so,” Eimor agreed. “But it could still be blocked from the inside.”
“It does not matter,” Hrianon said, watching us work. “We have enough powder to level the temple along with half of the city block.”
Under another coil of rusty wire we revealed a wooden door, solid looking and bound in black wrought iron.
“This is new.” Bevid scratched his head and dropped to his knees, peering through the keyhole. “Gimme some light, will ya?”
We raised our lanterns above his head.
“The mechanism is covered with rust,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Can’t open it even with a key…”
“I can.” Ice patted the old sailor on the back. “Step aside, Pops!”
Eimor shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Master Wizard! It’s too dangerous.”
Without much ado, Hrianon pushed forward. I noticed a small bag of powder and a fuse sticking out of her small fist. “Let me see,” she said, squatting down to look at the door.
She carefully unfolded the paper bag, poured some powder into the keyhole and deftly inserted the fuse.
“Need a light?” Ice gently touched the fuse with a finger.
The fuse flared and hissed angrily. We ran back to the far corner of the basement and watched the red spark climbing up toward the rusty keyhole.
A white flash blinded me for a second. Then I saw not a lock but a fist-sized smoking hole decorated with glowing embers.
“Useful invention,” sighed Bevid. “I wish I’d had it when I was young!”
Eimor smiled, pushing the door with his shoulder. “I suspect you would be the richest man in Paara by now.”
The old sailor shrugged. “And what’s wrong with that? I know how to put all this wealth to a better use.”
There was another door at the end of the underground passage. Eimor pushed it with his shoulder and it swung open, letting us into a small damp cell.
“We had lamps stored in here.” Bevid pointed to a niche in the wall. “And there were cloaks and masks.”
“Well thought through,” giggled Hrianon.
“Well, the abbot himself used the passage,” said Bevid. “He was old, but very vigorous for his age.”
We quietly moved down the hall, lighting our way with shuttered lanterns.
“No one comes here any more,” Bevid marvelled, looking around.
“Maybe the brothel
was closed,” Ice guessed. “Or maybe the brothers decided to stop sinning…”
“Very funny,” Bevid said with a chuckle.
After a while, we found ourselves in a spacious room with a high-arched ceiling. The centre of the room was occupied by a thick column covered with ancient inscriptions.
“In the old days this was a coal repository.” Bevid nodded at the rows of dusty sacks lying by the walls. “Back then we had no fancy gas lamps or gas fireplaces. If you go further, you’ll find the boiler room too.”
“No need to go further,” Hrianon muttered. “We just found what we were looking for.” She walked around the column and nodded in satisfaction. “If we break this thing, the whole temple will crumble!”
We emptied the coal sacks and took them to the powder barrel. Under the girl’s guidance, we carefully filled them with explosive powder and brought them back through the underground passage.
Hrianon told us to put the sacks around the column, then she punctured them in several places and inserted fuses through the holes.
“We’re good,” she said, wiping her hands on her trousers. “Just light the fuses and the temple is no more.”
We stood near the column silently admiring our handiwork. The death of hundreds or even thousands of people lay dormant in these dusty bags. Not a glorious death upon the field of battle, but a sneaky and cruel one. Death – dreaded by any warrior.
I muttered a short prayer and made a promise to myself: I will never let this terrible invention leave these walls. Bevid was right, the world is not ready yet.
“Shit,” Ice whispered, unable to take his eyes away from the huge column. “I have goosebumps all over…”
My friends looked depressed too. Only Hrianon was smiling, with her arms crossed over her heaving chest.
“If you no longer need our help”—Ice looked at me—“I’d like to go back to the inn and take a long hot bath.”
Bevid and Eimor exchanged glances. “Do not wander around the city,” he said. “Go straight home, and ask Ovayn to boil some hot water for us too.”
Ice and I ran through the underground passage, pushed the barricade aside and peered out of the door. A lonely street light on the corner made the already dark street even darker.
