Odyssey

CHAPTER 7

The stench of burned flesh and destruction was sweet in Kirtar's nostrils. The aroma was nectar the bird warrior savored as he stood with his eyes closed. The crackle of fires soothed his hot blood, the destruction of the Cabal structures an unexpected benefit. The beast had torn a great wound in the city's fabric and like draining blood, the citizens flowed into the streets. The attack had caught him deep in the arena, and it had taken precious minutes to force his way through the crowds. The plaza had been a madhouse, bleeding guardsmen forming defenses to manage the crowds. With his warriors still lost in the clearing stands, the lieutenant took control, instilling order into the fleeing cowards, clearing the way for the coming battle. True, he was forced into a tactical retreat and the sudden arrival of the mer empire forces turned the contest. But it was his own blow that laid the beast low when all was finally done.

The bleating of the wounded irritated him, and he directed those of his order with healing skills to ply their trade among the injured. He pointed to the mer forces to receive healing first. The monsters of the deep at least were brave fighters and far more worthy of aid than the corrupt gamblers of the city. The lieutenant moved down to the street level as he saw his orders being relayed. The few Cabal officers he saw looked thoroughly cowed, and none disputed his authority.

"This is the natural order of things," he whispered to himself.

The crabs dragged away the corpses of their dead, despite the Cabal servants' furtive attempts to secure the bodies for the city's use. The crustaceans sorted through the rubble, their immense strength allowing them to move all but the largest beams. The exposed corpses not from the mer realm were discarded on the rubble piles to be snared by guardsmen. Kirtar made a note to have his own forces collect their dead in Cabal territory.

A centaur staggered to the street, the simian face visible over the high grass. He started toward the Order officer, carefully trying to find a clear path. Kirtar's mystic senses detected a change in magic. The arena defenses, still unbreached, were coming down. Servitors slowly walked toward the growth obstructing the streets holding staves. One took the lead and his staff of black wood and iron passed among the stalks. The plants withered into brittle husks as the lieutenant watched. The other Cabal reinforcements joined in.

"Ware the street cleaners," the champion called out with derision. A few of the workers bristled but none chal-lenged his appraisal. Kirtar expected nothing more from such cravens.

"Lieutenant," called the centaur, moving into the cleared street, barely avoiding a "mistaken" swing of a withering staff wielded by an angry guardsman. The centaur bared his fangs and shook the huge club that he used as a walking stick.

Kirtar recognized him as the fighter allied with the bar-barian. The injuries he had sustained appeared half-healed, and the officer assumed that was the reason the forest fighter had not joined in the battle. He confessed to himself that the warrior, Kamahl, had at least shown rash courage during the fight.

"What is it?" he asked. Then trying to explain his short-ness, he continued, "As you can see there is much to be done, and our hosts seem incapable of doing it." Kirtar ignored the efforts of the Cabal to clear the streets and the stream of carts arriving to haul away the rubble.

"The beast was a Krosan dragon," the centaur said. "It is found only in the forests of the far northwest." At the signs of the bird warrior's exasperation with the lesson, Seton made his point. "It has absolutely no business being here. Something is wrong, and this attack could be only the sign of greater troubles."

"I appreciate the information, sir," Kirtar said, speaking with excessive courtesy, "but what am I to do?" He waved to the destruction caused by the single beast. "How does the destruction of a pit like this concern the Order?"

"For the dragon to appear this far east, the reverberations of whatever is disturbing the forest must cover leagues." Seton explained, his voice showing offense. "As an officer in the Order, sworn to protect the Northern Reaches and hoping to extend your authority south, I thought you would be grateful for the insight. Excuse me if I misunderstood your seriousness." With that the centaur moved away, the haft of his granite-capped club beating a tune of anger on the cobblestones.

Shaking his head at the vagaries of forest warriors, Kirtar turned back to supervision. But there was little to do, as an army of Cabal workers fell to work in concert with the remaining crabs.

"Of course they are ready now," the lieutenant mumbled to himself. More movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Laquatus, the mer ambassador, and Turg, his amphibian champion, coming from the arena. The frog moved slowly, and his eyes were glassy. Kirtar had not paid attention to the arena match and wondered if Turg was injured. The frog squatted on his heels, slowly rocking from side to side as the ambassador came forward.

"Congratulations on your brilliant victory," the merman hailed. Laquatus gave a short bow that good manners demanded the lieutenant return. "The beast would have surely destroyed the city if not for your quick action." The ambassador looked pained as he said it, and Kirtar felt obligated to inquire.

"Did you take injuries during the battle?" The lieutenant had seen nothing, but it must have been a madhouse inside.

"No, no," replied the merman. "The spells protecting the arena sealed me and my champion away from combat. Turg was trapped on the arena floor, and a few others and I were locked in a skybox during the actual attack. I fear the excitement was too much for my companions. In a fit of desperation they tried to leap free and perished in the fields protecting the audience from the arena floor." Laquatus looked quite distressed, reining his voice in with difficulty. "It's desperately sad. One of the deceased was an importer with some knowledge of the attacking beast. He said it was a type of dragon that came in response to the beast my champion killed."

Kirtar frowned.

"A centaur told me that the beast never left the northwestern forests," the officer said. "He was quite convinced that such animals were never here. To come in response to a cry means either the animal was tracking the one killed or that it was in the general vicinity." Kirtar wondered if perhaps the centaur was on to something. There could be a continuing danger.

Another bird warrior flew through the air. The four in Kirtar's party had been killed, so this golden- winged fighter must be a messenger from the north. The lieutenant waved his arms to signal his presence, but the sharp-eyed flyer was already swooping down to him. The raypen folded his wings and shook the still settling dust off his feathers.

"Greeting to my First," intoned the raypen, its high tenor piping as it recited the message from memory. Messengers were specially trained to give messages word for word to prevent written orders from being intercepted. "There have been attacks of forest creatures all along the western borders of the high plains. You are to return north directly, collecting information and offering aid to those whom need it. The villages under the Order must be protected. If necessary you will stay and oversee the southern defense. We must find out what is happening. Pianna, Captain of the North."

Kirtar cursed the bad timing. Fighters from across the continent were here for the contest, and representatives of the other continental powers had arrived as well. Here was a chance to forge new alliances, and the Captain had just ordered him back to the barely civilized plains to protect scores of nameless villages. His huge hands clenched in anger, but he relaxed them with a conscious effort. The captain was head of the Order, and he must believe that she knew what she was doing. After all, he thought to himself, he didn't want to stay in this pit of a city anyway. There would be other chances to make his presence known. News of his victory would help convince others that the Order's direction was necessary for the common good.

"I am afraid I must leave directly," he said to the ambassador, waving the messenger toward the main camp. "I am sorry to miss the championship rounds, but I am sure Turg will triumph now that I will withdraw from the contests." He looked toward the amphibian, but he had vanished from sight. Looking for the frog brought the officer's gaze back to the sight of the mer forces diving into the pools, dragging their dead behind them.

"I was very surprised to see your soldiers streaming from the ground," he stated, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to the ambassador.

Laquatus seemed huge, his form giving off vibrations that seemed hypnotic. Kirtar could feel his pulse slowing as the violet eyes of the merman expanded to fill the world.

"But of course you knew of the soldiers under the city," a velvet voice insinuated. "They attacked at your orders, being already under your command. Don't you remember?" Kirtar fell into darkness ringed in purple as the ambassador took hold of his shoulders. •к "к "к "к "k

"I must therefore leave immediately for forest's edge." The words resounded in Kirtar's head, and he wondered who was saying them. It was with some surprise that he realized that he was the speaker. "This attack is but one of dozens that have issued from the west. The Order is the only force that can protect those villages without the walls and guardsmen of Cabal City," he said to the assembled city elders.

Kirtar stood on a rough platform against the arena, looking over the square. The fall of rubble punctuated his speech as work crews tried to clear the streets. The dragon that he had slain filled the street, and blood from the great corpse slowly drained into the storm gutters, the smell issuing from the sewers under the arena. The crowd of henchmen and ordinary citizen ignored the odor. Kirtar knew them to be used to such odors in this pit. He gritted his teeth in anger.

Why was he giving a speech to the Cabal, he wondered savagely. The city was contemptible. Only the grave breach in civil order had convinced him to fight the dragon attack. Cabal City was a sour taste in his mouth. Only the sight of the mer ambassador, his invaluable advisor, prevented him spitting in contempt onto the arena square. He ignored the growing mutters at his long silence to regard Laquatus, his closest ally. The merman was the first to see the importance of uniting the continent of Otaria, saving its fragmented history.

The mer agreed it was long past time to impose order on the land. The underwater kingdom would lend arms to help the lieutenant pursue his dreams. The guards the ambassador put under his command proved invaluable in defeating the huge beast. It was the first and richest fruit of the inter-power alliance that the Order wished to form.

How lucky the ambassador had ferried his personal guard to the catacombs under the arena. Kirtar wondered at the expense of shifting so many water breathers. It was fortunate that the drowned caves had been available. Even though the forces proved effective, he still chuckled at the naivete of the ambassador. It showed the merman's inexperience with the dry land that he would bring water breathers as guards against land-bound dangers. After all, how many flooded caves could there be? He nodded to the ambassador, grateful for his support and resolved to do his best in protecting Laquatus from his own foolishness and inexperience.

The officials began clapping after long seconds, and the crowd belatedly joined in. The Master of the Games heaved his heavy bulk up to the podium beside the lieutenant. Kirtar dragged his attention back to the officials of the Cabal, despising them but determined to act politely for his ally's sake. The mer ambassador nodded approvingly, and the bird warrior felt a burst of pride at his own statesmanship.

"We thank you for your leadership in combating the dragon in conjunction with Ambassador Laquatus's guard." The Cabal functionary sent an ill- favored glance toward the water dweller as he mentioned the valiant sea fighters. It was the base nature of the pits that made them so suspicious of such timely aid, the lieutenant said to himself. The speaker turned from the ambassador as if snubbing him and gestured broadly toward the Order officer and his guards behind him.

"Hurry up, you bag of wind," the aven warrior muttered to himself.

"In recognition of such bravery and valor in cause of the common good, we gladly offer the pick of the prizes to Lieutenant Kirtar."

A polite clapping sounded as a representative of the Order went to select a prize from the mound of treasure pulled from the arena. The champion was unable to restrain showing at least some contempt for the proceeding, and he chose an elen to carry the prize. Though the giant bird warriors stood close to ten feet tall, the gray-skinned humanoids were of the serving class. The lieutenant doubted his hosts were intelligent enough to read the insult of the great robed figure going through the prizes like a ragpicker searching a garbage pile. The elen selected an object, the round sphere almost lost in its gigantic hands.

The ambassador and his frog both looked to the prize, ignoring the rambling official. As Kirtar agreed to this farce only as a favor to his ally, he wondered what could be so important about a bauble plucked randomly from a pile. The elen walked slowly, appearing almost introspective as it came nearer the officer. The giant bird warriors were known for their lack of magical talent, and it appeared, outside everything Kirtar knew, that the huge servant tried to use magical senses to probe the metal surface. Intrigued by what would drive such a mystical incompetent to such efforts, the lieutenant stepped forward to intercept the prize bearer. The walker showed no awareness, continuing toward the baggage train where the bauble was to be stored with the other luggage. The officer plucked it out of the elen's grasp, seeing Turg step forward as if to admonish him. Then all thoughts of the frog, the Cabal, and anything else vanished from his mind.

The sphere erupted in a shout of power. The dull metal surface seemed to burn away, blurring Kirtar's eyes with tears. The magic that called so softly now filled the world. As the flare of energy subsided, the lieutenant held a globe of perfect crystal. The clear depths called to him, drawing his spirit away from Cabal City. The aftermath of the battle and the stench of the street were gone. Purity and glory surrounded the bird warrior. The audience showed its essential stupidity in staring dumbly at him, ignoring the vistas that opened at every side.

Kirtar saw himself striding through a field of enemies, each frozen and impotent against him, and his spells swept them away to oblivion. The banner of the Order flew over the field in victory. The aven's heart sang as he knew the triumph, the glory, that waited to be seized.

The images dimmed until he saw once again the magnificent globe filling his hand. Kirtar heard the exclamations of the crowd but ignored them. They were not worthy to taste the future he had seen. This city was trash and could be ignored now that he held real power. His huge hand closed over the prize, gripping it as tightly as his mind gripped the visions it bestowed.