“Nal,” he said without taking his eyes from the plants and trees, “how are there trees up here? We’re way too far above the tree line for anything to be growing here.”
“Ah,” Palusa Filk said, coming up from her own inspection of the temple grounds. “That is one of the fascinating things about the temple. The masters long ago were able to channel the rohw in such a way as to nurture trees and plants. There were orchards planted around the temple walls as well as within. Fruit trees, vegetables, we had fresh food ready to hand at all times. To see the flowering of the fruit trees in the spring, knowing that it was impossible for them to thrive in this harsh climate, was a joy, but not even the greatest of the wonders of Kokitura.”
“Amazing,” Sam said. “It looks as if whatever the masters did, some of it still remains. Once the temple is rebuilt, I bet the trees here could be nurtured back to health. They look unhealthy and weak, but they’re alive.” As he spoke, he noticed the beginnings of buds on the branches of some of the trees. They, at least, seemed to know it was spring.
Sam sat down on a particularly large mound that looked to be a stone block. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve looked around enough for now.” He looked toward the sun, moving its way toward the horizon. Even now, he was in the shadow of the peak of the mountain. “I will meditate for a moment and learn this place, and then we can go back and have the Brothers of the Rohw prepare to come here tomorrow morning.”
Both women nodded. They moved off a few feet and began softly conversing, allowing Sam to do what he needed to do. Within minutes, he was done. The vibrational signature of the place came to him quickly, almost as if he had been there before and just needed reminding. No doubt it was an effect of the vortex of power.
Beckoning Nalia and Palusa to himself, he dove into the darkness of his mind, set the vibrational signature of Whitehall, and the three left the cold mountain peak without a sound.
Chapter 36
“We found the fortress,” Ix said as she waved a half-eaten piece of bread about as if to describe the place. “We ran into some patrols of the mutated creatures, so it seems that it’s the right place.”
“That’s good,” Sam said, taking a bite of his stew. “We got to the top of Kokitura Mountain, and I learned the place so I can take the brothers up there tomorrow morning. That shouldn’t take long, and then you can take us to deal with Chetra Dal.”
Sam noticed Rindu’s face, even more blank than normal, and he opened his mouth to explain himself, but Rindu spoke first. “Do not worry, Sam. I took no offense to your speech. It still has not been proven to me that the enemy we face is in fact my old master, but even if he is, what you say is accurate. We must ‘deal with him.’ It is regrettable, but necessary. All of Gythe is at stake.”
The others at the table grew silent. The silence stretched on for what seemed to Sam to be a long time.
“What is your plan, Sam?” Torim Jet finally said, his words loud in Sam’s ears after the silence.
“I don’t think we need much of a plan. We’ll go to the fortress, I’ll learn the area, just in case, and then we’ll go in. With Ix, the whole party can be teleported directly into the fortress, bypassing all the walls. We’ll find Dal and kill him.”
“Perhaps that is a simplification of a difficult task,” Nalia said. “If it is Master Chetra Dal we face, he will not be defeated so easily. Remember Ayim Rasaad.”
“I remember,” Sam answered. “I just don’t see that there is any other way to plan it. I’d welcome any suggestions or changes to the simple plan.”
No one said anything.
“Okay,” Sam continued, “then we’ll just go with what we have. Let me know if anyone thinks of anything. Otherwise, we can all meet midmorning tomorrow, after I’ve taken the Brothers of the Order of the Rohw to Kokitura. Ix, can you take me to where you stopped after we eat? I can learn the location so I can transport everyone tomorrow. We don’t want to tire you before a fight.”
Before sunrise the next morning, Sam met with those who were going to Kokitura to start the construction of the new Zouyim temple. There were thirty in all, most of them from the Order of the Rohw, but not all. Several craftsman and at least one engineer had decided to go as well, explaining that a few people would not be missed at the fortress but would make a great difference in how the work progressed at the temple site. Sam agreed.
Brothers Dilkin and Mosian were nearly dancing in anticipation, though they controlled it well. Sam could see in their eyes how anxious they were to get started, how excited they were to realize their lifelong dream of helping the Zouyim and creating something that would be a lasting legacy for the brothers as well as the Zouyim themselves.
“I know you’re eager to begin,” Sam said, “but let’s have a big breakfast. It may be the last big meal you have for a while. I will return each week to see what supplies you need, but if something should happen to me or Ix, it will be a long journey to resupply you.”
“Yes,” Dilkin Turin said. “Your words are wise. We will cultivate patience in this, though my heart burns to begin our project.”
Sam slapped the older man on the back. “I know. We can eat a little more quickly than normal, as a compromise.” Dilkin smiled at him.
“Do you have all the plans and necessary drawings?” Sam asked Surim Denga, the engineer and leader of the construction team. The man was short and thin with black hair and hazel eyes that seemed extra bright because of the dark hair hanging in his face. He had a perpetual expression of either irritation or boredom, though Sam couldn’t figure out which it was. He was friendly enough, though, and competent. Dr. Walt had highly recommended him.
“We do,” he said in a clipped tone. Sam didn’t take offense to his sharp, brief way of speaking. It was just how the man communicated. “We have spent many hours with Master Torim Jet and Master Rindu Zose and know exactly how the temple will be built. It is mostly as it used to stand, but there are a few modifications, I understand, improvements the masters, and previous masters, saw as desirable.”
“Good,” Sam said. “And the materials to start with? They are all staged in the section of the courtyard we spoke about?”
“It is all there and accounted for,” the engineer stated. “I have briefed the masons and the carpenters, as well as the other craftsmen and the brothers. We are as prepared as anyone can be for the project. The foodstuffs are also in the courtyard with the materials. One month’s supply, more if we ration them.”
“It sounds like we’re all set then,” Sam said. “Remember, if I don’t show up in a week, begin rationing the food immediately and send someone back here to see what happened. It could be anything from the death of me and Ix to the entire fortress and everyone here being destroyed. Make sure the person who comes is wary.”
“We have our messenger already chosen,” Brother Dilkin said. “He is an experienced brother, strong in the rohw. He will not fail if he is called upon to investigate.”
They finished their meal, chatting about small things, and soon it was time to leave. As they got up to go to the staging point for their departure, Rindu came through the door to the dining hall, Torim Jet following closely on his heels.
“Ah, Sam,” Rindu said, picking him out and walking toward him. “I had hoped you had not left yet. I wish to accompany you, if that is acceptable. And Torim Jet as well.”
“Of course, Master Rindu. We are honored to have you.”
Brother Dilkin and Brother Mosian bowed deeply to the two masters, saluting them in greeting. The Zouyim returned the bows and salutes.
“We want to see the temple site as it is now, before reconstruction,” Torim Jet said. “I will make sketches and paint a picture so that we never forget the dark days when Gythe had no temple and the Zouyim were almost eliminated from the world.”
“We were just heading to the place where all the supplies are staged for me to teleport them to Kokitura. If you will follow us, we should be leaving in just a few minutes.”
/>
The brothers, the Zouyim, the craftsman, Surim Denga, and Sam filed out in a procession toward the courtyard.
Once Sam reached the supplies, he browsed the piles of materials, food, and other necessary items. He trusted that Surim had accounted for and thought of everything they would need, so he wasn’t trying to take inventory, just having a look around.
There were dozens of massive stone blocks to be used as the cornerstones of the main structures and the walls themselves. Wood planks and beams were stacked neatly in other rows. Tools were piled or neatly stowed away in boxes and chests. Flour, vegetables, salted meat, and fruit were in another area, along with temporary pens with sheep, pigs, and four oxen to be used for heavy lifting and dragging. Several tents, the cloth folded neatly alongside the support poles, finished off the list.
“It looks like everything is here,” Sam said. “How long will it take you to use up all the building materials?” he asked Surim Denga.
“I would say that if we don’t run into any troubles that delay us,” Surim said, “it will take at least two weeks until we need more supplies.”
“Good. I plan on bringing more in a week. Hopefully everything goes smoothly and you will never have to stop work because of lack of materials.”
Surim Denga nodded. “Pletan Dorr is the engineer in charge of things here in Whitehall. He will make sure the next batch of supplies is always gathered and staged here for you to teleport. If there are any issues, he can speak with all my authority. We are bringing a number of pigeons with which to communicate.”
“Then I guess there’s nothing left to do but to go to Kokitura,” Sam said. “Please make sure everyone is within the roped-off area. If they’re outside the rope, they won’t be transported. Give me a few minutes to prepare myself, and I will teleport everything and everyone to our destination.”
The engineer barked a few sharp commands and everyone stopped talking, moved to the appropriate location, and waited quietly as Sam sat down on the cobblestones in the courtyard and teleported them to the mountain.
Rindu and Torim Jet walked the place where the Zouyim temple had once stood. They both had blank expressions on their faces, though Torim Jet’s hands twitched slightly, almost as if to reach at something.
The older monk soon sat down and started sketching the area. Rindu conversed quietly with Surim Denga as the Brothers of the Rohw and the craftsmen began erecting tents outside of what would be the work zone.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, Torim Jet had finished his drawings, all the temporary living quarters were up, and Rindu came back to Sam. The workers lined up in front of Sam and the two Zouyim, looking at them expectantly, like they were waiting for a speech.
The silence was deafening. If it wasn’t for the wind whistling over the ridge and the soft sounds of a few of the men shuffling their feet, it would have been eerie. Sam looked to the two monks beside him. They seemed to be content with the silence. It was uncomfortable to Sam, and as it stretched on, it seemed to be so for the men arrayed in front of him as well.
Rindu looked around, face as calm and placid as ever, and then his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh,” he said softly and, looking to Torim Jet and then to Sam, took a half a step forward. As he opened his mouth to speak, the entire crowd relaxed as if sighing out the tension within them.
“You have volunteered to face hardship and the elements to begin the rebuilding of the Zouyim temple,” he said to them, “and for this, you must be commended. It is no small task you have taken as your own. It is very important to Gythe, to the Zouyim left living, and to me personally.
“It reminds me of a story one of my masters told me when I was a young disciple in the temple, not a few hundred feet from where we are now.” His eyes moved to a location on the other side of his audience, and it seemed to Sam that they became unfocused for just a moment. “I would like to tell it to you now.”
Sam watched the faces of those gathered in front of them. Most of them shone with reverent looks. They revered the Zouyim, hung on every word they said. Even the craftsman who did not feel as strongly about the monks respected them and looked almost eager to hear Rindu’s story. Sam glanced to Torim Jet, who felt Sam’s gaze and smiled at him. He was sure the old monk had heard every story Rindu had ever told, but he seemed content to listen.
“There was once a young beaver. He was industrious, as his kind usually were, but he was ambitious as well. He dreamed of being famous, of being renowned for his skill in combat, his vast intelligence, his unmatched wisdom. He would settle for any of these, really, as long as others remembered his name and looked at him in awe. As long as he was known for the good he did for others.
“Yet, when the other animals in the section of forest in which he lived were practicing to become heroes, the young beaver was forced to take part in the family trade, that of building dams.
“‘You must exert yourself and build with skill and efficiency,’ his mother would often tell him. ‘Take pride in your work, and your work will be your pride.’
“He never understood what she meant. To him, it was simple. Without spending time practicing or learning or exploring, he would never gain the fame he so craved. And so, he lived a dull existence, working most of each day building and watching from afar as Fox, Crane, and Snake honed their skills and became great warriors.
“Soon it came to pass that his father fell ill and eventually died, leaving the responsibility for making and increasing the family home, and of building dams, to the young beaver. The sadness of his father passing and his new responsibility was too much and the beaver broke down and cried, wondering why life was so cruel. Now he would never be famous, and no one would know his name.
“The years came and went, and it came about that the great hero Captain Pantor visited the area in which beaver still lived. With him were three of the warriors who had grown up with Beaver, all of them heroes in their own right. It was fine to see how his friends had made names for themselves, and the celebration of their visit was a grand affair; he could not dispute that. But still, Beaver felt as if he had been cheated of his own chances. Life, it seemed, was unfair and gave the advantage to some while crushing the dreams of others.
“As Beaver sat at the edge of the festivities, head in his paws, a shadow cast in the firelight darkened where he sat. Beaver looked up to see Captain Pantor, the most celebrated hero for hundreds of miles.
“‘May I sit with you?’ the captain’s deep voice, rich with the air of command, said.
“‘Of course,’ Beaver said, nervous to speak in the presence of his hero.
“‘I am told you are the architect and builder of this fine dam,’ the pantor said, pointing toward beaver’s home.
“‘It is true. I have spent my whole life building when I wanted to be learning to be a hero like my friends. Like you.’
“Pantor’s face scrunched up in confusion. ‘Why is it that you wanted to be a hero? Was it for fame alone, to have others speak your name in awe?’
“‘That is part of it,’ beaver admitted. ‘But more, I wanted to help others. I wanted to be remembered as someone who saved lives and made my home and the surrounding areas better with my heroism or wisdom.’
“‘I see,’ Captain Pantor said. ‘It is much the same with me. I wanted to aid others. I have been able to do that, in my way, by becoming the best warrior I could to battle those who wished to invade my home and the homes of my friends.’
“‘Then you understand me,’ Beaver said, relieved that someone recognized what he was feeling.
“‘I understand the sentiment, yes,’ the pantor said, ‘but I do not understand your sadness. You have built this marvelous structure, causing the river to back up and create a lake here for all these wonderful animals to live. Your work is known far and wide. When they found I was coming here to visit, many of my acquaintances from miles around asked me to express my thanks and admiration to the architect of the structure that has helped more than any combat
I could take part in. If it is fame you crave, you have attained it. If it is to help others that you strive, you have succeeded.’
“Beaver looked at his hero, his furry mouth open and his dark eyes wide. ‘But I have done nothing but the toil and the hard labor forced upon me by my parents.’
“‘Then your parents, too, should be commended. My name will be forgotten, eventually. But your contribution, the dam you have built to benefit all the other animals for miles around, it will stand for much longer. Tell me then, little beaver, whose legacy is greater? It is my honor to meet you, for I could not do what you have done in selflessly creating something to benefit others. Alas, I am but a simple soldier and so will continue fighting, but know that if I had the skill, I would join you in erecting a lasting monument for the benefit of all people.’
“Captain Pantor, the celebrated hero and finest warrior Beaver had ever heard of, stood at attention and saluted the small builder, then walked back toward the fire, leaving Beaver to contemplate what he had been told.
“So, too,” Rindu said to the workers assembled, “is what you begin today of limitless value. You will rebuild the Zouyim temple, a center of learning and the headquarters of the protectors of Gythe. Without you and your sacrifice, your work, this would never come to be and there would be no place for future heroes to train and learn. I therefore salute you,” Rindu stood up straighter and saluted all those in front of him, “and tell you that I am proud to know you, heroes of Gythe all.”
As Rindu’s voice faded, the silence grew. Sam watched the audience arrayed in front of the monk, their eyes staring, almost as if they were in a trance. Several of the men blinked, and they began to move. A handful nodded and most of them wore smiles. Proud smiles. Sam had to admit that this particular story was not only appropriate, but seemed to be a hit. Rindu, of course, wore his normal emotionless expression.
“That was a very good story,” Sam whispered to him as they made their way to a spot he could use to teleport them away.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 129
