Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 Read online

  For Ady

  copyright @ 2015 Robert G. Ferrell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published or transmitted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-927384-28-2

  Published by Zetabella Publishing

  Toronto Canada

  Printed in the US.

  zetabella.com

  Acknowledgements

  This novel was pounded out, as were all of my previous works both great and small, in precious odd fragments of time in the evenings and on weekends. It is the final piece of writing I will ever produce under those circumstances, a generous Providence willing, as I am now officially retired from my ‘conventional’ career and devoting myself entirely to life as an author. My wonderful, talented, patient, wise-as-Solomon wife Adrienne is solely responsible for my being able to make such a bold and frankly terrifying move; I and anyone who reads and enjoys my work are deeply indebted to her for allowing me this freedom.

  It can be difficult to compose acknowledgements: there are so many people who contribute in one manner or another to helping me get nominally coherent words into a readable format. For this go- around I am especially beholden to David Watson—the inspiration for Oloi—who also educates and entertains me; Jenice Amber Dean, whose connection to one of the characters in this book should be obvious to anyone who reads it; my Facebook Author page fans, who encourage me on a daily basis; the literary track coordinators and other con organizers who invite me to be a guest author and/or serve on panels at your cons (I really enjoy that); Martha Wells and Elizabeth Moon, just for being there for me to admire and emulate; and lastly the graphic novel artist Paul Taylor, though I have never met nor even corresponded with him. Over a period of three days I read the entire 13 years of his Web comic “Wapsi Square” in conjunction with editing this book. I let myself read four or five strips as a reward for another page of editing completed: his storyline is just that good. This is not a rapid and efficient way to edit a manuscript, but it sure is a heck of a lot more fun. Thanks, Paul.

  Here’s hoping no one will have to wait eighteen months before my next novel ever again.

  Cheers,

  Robert G. Ferrell

  La Vernia, TX, USA

  September, 2014

  MAPS

  Table of contents

  Chapter the First

  Chapter the Second

  Chapter the Third

  Chapter the Fourth

  Chapter the Fifth

  Chapter the Sixth

  Chapter the Seventh

  Chapter the Eighth

  Chapter the Ninth

  Chapter the Tenth

  Chapter the Eleventh

  Chapter the Twelfth

  Chapter the Thirteenth

  Chapter the Fourteenth

  Chapter the Fifteenth

  Chapter the Sixteenth

  Chapter the Seventeenth

  Chapter the Eighteenth

  Chapter the Nineteenth

  Chapter the Twentieth

  Chapter the Twenty-First

  Chapter the Twenty-Second

  Chapter the Twenty-Third

  Chapter the Twenty-Fourth

  Chapter the Twenty-Fifth

  Chapter the Twenty-Sixth

  Chapter the Twenty-Seventh

  Appendix

  Chapter the First

  in which the rebirth of a nation is chronicled and an old adversary returns

  The Royal Engineering Corps had their job cut out for them. There had been damage reported in every Ferroc, ranging from minimal disruption of services and some minor structural impairment affecting outlying villages in Ferroc Loca to widespread, severe destruction in Ferroc Norda, where 70% of the second-largest city, Fenurian, was destroyed and uninhabitable. While repairs in Ferroc Loca were handled by normal maintenance crews, in the other four provinces a senior or master engineer was appointed to spearhead the infrastructure rebuilding effort. Senior Engineer Beyya Corresca was assigned to Ferroc Oria, where there was light to moderate damage. Master Engineer Eglas Qaglo was sent to Ferroc Sutha, where the damage was moderate to heavy, with several villages demolished and several more severely damaged. Senior Engineer Hin-Lim Varpen traveled to Ferroc Osta, which saw heavy to severe damage, with multiple villages impacted and some damage to Cladimil’s less well-constructed buildings. Master Engineer Koxo Nilred was entrusted with the most intense effort, in Ferroc Norda.

  His Majesty Aspet consulted with local leadership in each damaged area and approved the plans for reconstruction. He had personally signed the Writ of Confiscation nationalizing Pyfox Consolidated Industries and turning over all of its current and future profits to the Royal Engineering Corps for use in the rebuilding effort. Since there would be no more static portals for accessing The Slice, no dedicated facilities where mages need congregate for such access were necessary. They could be multiuse buildings now, serving as magical conduits when required and then reverting to public spaces like art museums or vaccination clinics at other times.

  Five master talismans had been created, one for each Magineer, from which lesser artifacts could be cloned so that no mage had to travel far for a direct pipeline to The Slice. The plan was that eventually every community with an active Lodge of Mages would receive one of the lesser talismans. As with most any sea change, there was resistance to the new schema. Several local mages’ associations complained loudly regarding the talisman concept, but they really had little recourse but to adopt it nonetheless.

  In the end everyone had to accept CoME’s authority whether they liked it or not, as CoME held all the cards. Privately, the Magineers worried what effect the revised system would have on their own prestige and power. Under the historical regimen, while all mages had access to The Slice through their own personal specula, the amount of manna that could be drawn thusly was limited to that usable by a single mage. Only at the Dubers were the manna pipelines spacious enough for tasks that required great magical energy flows.

  Now that the physical location of the Dubers was more or less irrelevant, since the major talismans were easily portable, the question of the expense of maintaining the ornate structures arose. While they could yet serve their original function, and were well-suited for it, the fact was that now any location at all could theoretically serve that purpose. In the Dubers’ defense, they already had the proper facilities for handling magical energy and, of course, high-bandwidth fiber connections to the RNet. For any project that required access to both arcane energies and digital processing, the Dubers were still the best choice available. Eventually it was decided to retain the Dubers, as much for their symbolic value as their practical.

  Forced rebuilding does offer some opportunity for improvement of, or correction of flaws in, previous architectural designs. His Majesty Aspet had essentially opened the Royal Treasury for the reconstruction effort, so the Royal Engineering Corps after consultation with former tenants and local officials were able to go about restoration efforts carefully and methodically. For every building restored or rebuilt, a comprehensive historical profile was assembled, along with suggestions for changes in the new version and desired additional features. The cost estimates were then compared with the final idealized str
ucture and compromises were made when necessary to keep the project within budget.

  Once construction began, it proceeded in most cases fairly rapidly. Virtually every construction firm and team in Tragacanth, a small number from Galanga, and even a select few from as far away as Lardonica, were fully engaged in the effort. The highways, carriage lines, and ports thrummed with activity around the clock. While the vile attacks by Namni and Pyfox were horrific in terms of loss of life and property, they were good for the Tragacanthan economy and by extension the economy of Esmia in general.

  As with most any large-scale undertaking, there were setbacks. One of these was the discovery, during excavation for a new high- rise building foundation and basement on the extreme eastern edge of Fenurian, of the dome of what appeared to be a gigantic mausoleum. The architectural style of the structure did not match that of any known civilization, past or present; it was therefore deemed of highest cultural significance and all work halted.

  At length it was decided to relocate the high-rise entirely and designate the plot where the dome was found an Ancestors’ Graveyard. Archaeologists were afraid to penetrate the dome for fear of offending the race whose ancestors were buried here. The only alternative for scholarly study was to excavate all the way down to the entrance. It was not known on which side of the structure this entrance would be located, and there simply was not enough money available given the current climate to fund such a significant dig. So the mystery, for now, remained.

  The construction effort in Tragacanth was conducted on a grand scale: so grand, in fact, that laborers from all over N’plork jumped at the opportunity to join in. The tremendous influx of temporary workers took its toll on the limited number of Border Permeability Reduction agents. While the vast majority of people coming in were honest, hard-working folks who just wanted to better the lives of themselves and their families by taking advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, there were enough ne’er-do- wells and slackers, and unfortunately a small number of predatory opportunists, that edict enforcement had to double their shifts in some areas to deal with the ones who got past BPR.

  One of the least savory of all these opportunist immigrants was a half-ogre who went by the sobriquet ‘Sticker.’ He was, as the moniker suggests, rather adept with and fond of the use of weapons with sharp points. He kept half a dozen on his person at all times and reveled in their cleaning, polishing, and display to any and all. He being no fool, however, the knives were cleverly concealed when any of the edict enforcement persuasion was about: except on the very rare occasions when one of those was his target. This generally was followed by an immediate and hasty relocation to less hazardous climes.

  It was one of these bloody encounters that triggered Sticker’s visit to Tragacanth, in fact. He had until recently kept residence in the balmy southern port city of Prilzondra in Asmagon. After a tête-à-tête turned sour with a beach cop on the take, Sticker buried a 20cm planar concave blade between his opponent’s shoulders. Whether the cop lived or died, Sticker did not know, or care. What he did know was that hanging around would be bad for his health in either case, so he and his close associates jumped aboard a tramp freighter headed up the coast and hopped off again at Qoplebarq, the last port of call before the freighter turned east for Zilond in Spleroste.

  From Qoplebarq they made their way at last across the breadth of Tragacanth to the outskirts of Fenurian, where enormous tent and skid-cabin settlements had sprung up to house the workers virtually rebuilding the city from the ground up.

  “Whatta we doin’ in this dump, boss?” asked one of Sticker’s henches: Dross, a kobold.

  “We gotta raise some cash for a scheme I got worked up.”

  “What kind of dough you think we can score in a place like this?”

  “Calamity brings recovery, my friend, and recovery means money. Tons of it, all flowing in at once and so difficult to track. All we have to do is put ourselves in the path of that money and pick off a bit here and there. Not enough at a time to raise any alarms. After a while it will add up.”

  “What we gonna do with all that dough?” asked his other lackey, a hobgoblin named Slag.

  “We are going to use it to buy some...equipment that will net us a very large haul. The largest ever, in fact. It will enable us to steal a very well-loaded armored dray.”

  “An armored dray heist! I ain’t been in on one o’ them in years!”

  “Ah, but the money in the dray is only a side benefit,” said Sticker.

  “I ain’t following. We gonna sell the dray to somebody for even more or somethin’?” asked Dross.

  “No, no. I will be placing something else in the dray for safekeeping that we will ransom for a staggering sum. Enough to allow us all to retire in luxury.”

  “What are you going t’ hork that’s worth that much dough?”

  “Not what, who. A cop, by the name of Tol.”

  “Why would anybody pay that much for a cop?”

  “He also happens to be a Knight of the Crimson and, more germane, the king’s brother.”

  “We’re going to snatch the king’s brother? Ain’t that a little risky?” asked Slag.

  “All enterprises of true worth involve a modicum of risk. The risk here is yet small in comparison with the payoff.”

  “You got somethin’ in partic’lar against this cop?”

  “Oh, yes. His interference cost me the best operation I ever ran. It was in South Sebacea, Goblinopolis. I had an outfit that repaired betting machines in casinos: all types. We set them up in a special way such that they would only jackpot when someone carrying a tiny transponder pulled the handle or whatnot. The best tech I had—the one who came up with the idea for and built the transponders—was a gnome named Buzzy. That little smekker could build anything. If it involved technology he did it, and did it well. He didn’t ask no questions, neither: just did his job.”

  Dross shrugged, “So what went south, boss?”

  “As time went on, I paid Buzzy better and better, ‘cause he was raking in the dough for me right and left. Some nights we’d bring in 50K. I guess I paid him too well, though, because somewhere along the line he developed an expensive drug habit. I think it was lickin’ some smekkin’ toadstools or whatever they do down in those Lardonican border towns. Anyways, one day he got totally stoned on his little gnomish butt and wandered into a casino we didn’t have a contract with. He had one of the transponder sets with him and tried to force open a machine so’s he could stick the coin slot trigger in there and collect. Of course they caught him and called the cops. This Tol smekker shows up and not only collars Buzzy, but figures out my whole scheme in, like, twenty minutes. I had to drop everything and run for the border toot sweet. Buzzy got six years; out in three, but somehow he got cleaned up in the joint and went to a polytechnic after he got sprung. He’s a smekkin’ engineer in one of those secret factories in the mountains, last I heard.”

  “How you gonna get this Tol in the right place to snatch ‘im?”

  “I’m still workin’ on it. By the time we scrape enough cash together here, I’ll have it all mapped out.”

  “So, what’s the scam gonna be?” asked Slag, who had wandered off to proposition some nearby females without success and just limped back up.

  “Well, you see those supply drays comin’ in?” answered Sticker, “They are crammed full of valuable commodities that will fetch a tidy sum on the black market.”

  “I ain’t seen no black market here, boss.”

  “We’re about to start one. We do that by buying off one of the drivers to drop his load in a place more...convenient for our purposes. I leased a small warehouse over there about a kilometer. Once we get a steady supplier, we’ll expand into larger quarters and start raking in some serious dough.”

  “You sure this’ll work, boss?” asked Dross a little doubtfully.

  “Of course it will work. I’ve set up this identical operation after two major sea storms in Lardonica and a wildfire I star
ted myself that burned a sizable swath of the southern coast of Asmagon. Nothin’ to it, once you get your rhythm.”

  He put his arms around the henches’ shoulders, “There’s a world of meaningful profit waitin’ for us here, my friends. Let us now reap that which we did not sow.”

  Chapter the Second

  in which Tol and Selpla discover one another in depth

  The cherish-fruit wine was delicious. Most everything about that evening was delicious, to be perfectly honest, and what wasn’t delicious was intriguing. The intriguing part was that Selpla actually did have some additional information on Morianella—information that seemed to corroborate part of what Plåk had told them.

  “I came across this small collection of copies of manuscripts pulled up in a chest by some deep-sea fishermen dredging the sea floor for slime rays: you know, the kind they use to make industrial adhesives,” she said, as they curled up together on the sofa in her parlor.

  “I heard tell that in Litria—mostly Grosyem, I think—they cut the eye stalks and fin warts off those things and eat them with seaweed,” Tol interjected, “Charge a ridiculous amount of money for them, too. I’d rather snack on my own fried toe fungus,”

  Selpla wrinkled her nose. “I don’t find either very appetizing. Anyway, these manuscripts were apparently ledgers and journals from the government offices in Morianella. One of them, which I have a second-generation copy of here, actually has the minutes of a meeting taken by the city council, or whatever they called themselves, shortly before the disaster. I had an ancient languages scholar translate it to Goblish for me; that’s the part written in red.”

  Tol held sheets up in the light and read out loud. “Archmage contracted to remove harbor debris asked for a score of days to accomplish, due to safety concerns. Council inquired if any quicker methods existed, as two large vessels were on their way from Spleroste and would have to wait offshore for an unacceptable period if the clearing took that long. Council voted seven to two to approve faster procedure, with understanding that it posed more risk.”