Mighty Hammer Down (4 page)

She gulped a thick mouthful of air as
an idea shot into her head. It wasn’t a great idea, but she had
come up with nothing else in the past few hours. She stood up,
careful not to make a sound, and looked around the stable. She
didn’t yet know exactly what she was looking for, but she would
have to find something. She walked slowly out from the stall with
all the grain and peered around the corner. It was dark, but the
moon was full and enough of the light came in from the open tops of
the walls to navigate somewhat safely. She assumed the walls were
built that way to vent the smell of the horses, but if that was the
designer’s intent, it wasn’t working very well. She gently shooed a
fly away from her face as she searched the place for some kind of
cloth. After searching a while in the darkness, she came across a
few burlap bags filled with grain. She wrinkled her nose at the
idea of having to use burlap, but she was low on resources and
wanted to get out of the city. She pulled her dagger free and knelt
down to the bags, cutting one open and then dumping the grain on
the floor. She presumed the bag was large enough, but either way
there were no other options. She cut two holes that were supposed
to look like circles into the burlap, and then started to take off
her shirt.

She froze when she heard a noise. It
was a thumping, rumbling sound, not like the rolling of carts or
voices she had been hearing all evening. She had no idea what it
was, but she held her breath to see if she could hear it again. Her
fear faded some when she heard nothing but the light breeze
outside. She took off her shirt and gently wiped off the wet muck
that had once been grain. She bent down and picked up her burlap
creation, made a few adjustments, and slid her arms through the
jagged holes. Her new shirt didn’t fit well; it had no way of
holding itself closed, but worst of all, it made her itch like
crazy.

She took her
shirt
¾
which was dark blue, but she hoped in
the darkness would pass for black
¾
and wrapped it around her
head, hiding her blonde hair inside. She tried her best to tuck and
tie parts so that it would stay on her head. This blue shirt would
have to pass for the dark hair of the Medorans, and it was a fairly
poor imitation. It would have been easier just to cover her head
with the burlap, but the burlap was a light color and would not
pass for dark hair at all. And in all her travels here in Medora,
she had not once seen any women with any kind of covering over
their heads. She decided this was the only practical
solution.

Coming to the doors, she peered
through the slit that cast a sharp blue line of moonlight across
the straw-covered floor. Although it was hard to see much, the
coast was clear as far as she could tell. She again held her breath
and waited to hear any kind of noise. After waiting long enough to
muster up her courage, she gently pushed open one of the heavy
wooden doors.

She was amazed at what she saw. For a
moment she forgot about her troubles as she stared in awe at yet
another astonishing Medoran feat. Above the roofs of the buildings
on the street, rising up onto the mountains, stood several temples,
each glowing a bright orange as if touched by the setting sun in
the middle of the night, unwilling to concede defeat to the
darkness. She marveled at the sight and felt at that moment to be
very small in the world; a world where the great Medoran empire
shined brightly above everything else.

As she stared at the buildings and
wondered how this glow was accomplished, she heard the rumbling
sound again. Panic took her breath as she ducked into the shadows.
The sound came from around a corner, not far from where she stood.
Since any soldier would have probably killed her by now if they
knew where she was, she decided to check on the noise. She kept to
the shadows and slowly walked to the end of the street. When she
looked around the corner, she saw three young men, not soldiers, in
front of a building. There appeared to be a low wall around the
building, and she determined that there was a shallow pit that the
wall encircled. The men were dumping and stacking wood inside this
pit, and suddenly she realized how the temples on the hill were
lit. They could light these pits of wood to create the orange glow,
although the cost of keeping these fires burning must be
astronomical. She wondered how they kept the smoke from ruining the
illusion, but she wasn’t going to go over and ask them how their
clever trick worked.

Deciding that it was foolish to stand
there, especially when these men were probably about to light a
bright fire, she took one last look at the majestic temples in the
sky and started her departure from Brinn. She knew from the temples
rising up on the mountains in front of her that she needed to turn
around and head south to leave the same way she came in. She walked
to the right and turned right at the first corner she reached. She
could see in the distance the large temple at the southern entrance
to the city. That was probably the temple with the red curtains she
saw earlier in the day. She adjusted her burlap shirt, holding it
tightly closed, and headed in that direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uritus watched the woman in the street
for a moment while he buttoned his shirt. He knew that even if she
looked up she would not see him there in the dark window. He took a
deep breath of the night air and let it out slowly. Watching this
woman walk away with her long dark hair made him remember a dozen
women just like her, if lacking a certain grace that this one had.
Times were different now. When he was younger, the mere fact that
he was the eldest son of the Emperor would have any woman in the
empire jumping at any chance to please him. He realized that this
was still true, but he himself had changed. He of course had
desires, just like any man, but over his lifetime he had honed
himself into a great weapon. He understood that he was the next in
line to rule Medora, and in the past few years he had devoted
himself almost totally to preparing for his coming reign. While not
many knew his agenda or his beliefs, he was a man dedicated to his
cause.

His father and the countless fathers
before him had all been so foolish. They were like children handed
an expensive and lavishly decorated sword; either too weak to wield
it properly, or too stupid to know how to keep it shining and in
one piece. The sword he would be handed was dinged, damaged and
dull, even though it still seemed bright and beautiful to those who
did not know any better.

He rolled his shoulders as if shaking
off the coming responsibility. It was going to be easy for him to
fix the empire anyway, if everything went according to plan. But
his plan could easily turn to dust because of its enormity. This
wasn’t as simple as going to war and taking land, or bartering a
deal with a neighboring country. This was a grand plan, one that
ensured he would be remembered as the greatest ruler of all time.
His soul swelled with joy as he thought about the victory he
envisioned. He just had to be careful and do everything according
to plan.

He went over to a table in the dark
room to light a candle. He didn’t care for candles. The gods made
the night dark, and he felt as if he was showing them disrespect by
cutting a hole in that darkness with man-made light. Of course, he
didn’t have the same feeling about finding shelter from the
daylight. It was the darkness, the blackness, the silent weight of
the night that he revered. For him the night seemed like it went on
forever, like the world only existed right there around him, and
beyond there was nothing but infinite blackness. A smile spread
across his face.

"Uritus, can’t you stay a little
longer?" came a voice from the bed in the center of the room. The
room lit with a pale glow as the candle struggled against the
blackness. His smile was soured by a slight sneer as he saw the
little flame dancing triumphantly.

"No my dear. I have seen soldiers
moving in the city all evening, and my father has no idea where I
am. He worries for me, I’m sure, and I must return to the Emperor’s
Hall. I would stay the night, but I fear there is trouble in the
city."

He did not face her but he saw her
reflection in the mirror before him. She sat in the bed, wrapped in
a white satin sheet hugging her knees. Her pleading look turned to
sadness as she realized he was not going to stay. She looked down
at her feet sticking out from her sheet.

"I am a busy man, you know. I have
important things to do before I become Emperor."

She always lit up with a smile when
she was reminded of his coming glory. She had always wanted to be
with someone who was powerful, and she used her looks to seduce men
ever since she discovered the talent. Uritus didn’t fall for it
though. Yes, he was moved by her looks and her charm, and he even
cared for her, but if she was expecting to share his coming power,
she was sadly mistaken. She was probably too simpleminded to truly
understand power anyway, but she would be happy enough just to be
the wife of the Emperor. She would play an important role though,
since the people would probably feel better with a female
figurehead. There had not been a maternal figure for the people of
Medora since his mother died when his younger brother was born. He
was six years old, but he could not remember much about
her.

"Uritus, I don’t want you to go. I
don’t want to be alone. You have stayed before, you can stay again
tonight. Please Uri?"

He finally turned to face her. She had
hooked her long, straight black hair behind her ears like she
always did when she was trying to be cute. She probably learned the
little trick using it on one of the other men in her past. When he
said nothing, she crossed her arms over her knees and rested her
chin on them, like a child might do when a parent says no. She
stared out the window at the fiery temples on the
mountain.

"I understand if you don’t want to
stay," she said softly.

"Mirra, you know I want to stay. But I
have a duty to the people. I’ll be back soon, maybe even
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is no good. I’m sure Rommus
will want me to meet him by the cliffs. I remembered too late that
I was supposed to go there today, and you know how he
is."

It didn’t bother him that she had not
ended her relationship with Rommus. If it were anyone else, it
would have, but this was different. She claimed that she couldn’t
bring herself to hurt him. Uritus didn’t care what the truth was.
He let things play out naturally just to see what plan the gods had
in store. He smiled as he thought about how maybe this time it was
him who had a plan for the gods.

She mistook his smile as a message to
her. "You smile as if you want me to go see him. Do
you?"

Her eyebrows rose almost as if she was
worried. He didn’t answer and instead went back to the window. She
reorganized her satin sheets around her as she tried to think of
something piercing and clever to say to him. Nothing came to her
mind.

Uritus looked out over his city.
Things were going to change, and the tide was coming soon. So far
everything was going as planned, and he prayed to Inshae that this
whole thing would work. But he didn’t have to pray anymore. Inshae
knew his plan, he was sure of it. He decided he had better leave
before it got too late. He was lying about a duty to his people,
but he couldn’t very well tell her what he was going to do. He
turned and walked to the corner where he had placed his things, and
began to gather them.

"You’re just going to leave like
that?" Mirra asked.

He knew that treating her this way
kept her interested in him. All the other men before him probably
did whatever she asked as soon as she asked it of them. It was
probably boring to her, so he ignored her half the time. It was
easier than explaining his every move anyway.

He picked up a large sack and a long
wooden box and threw the sack over his shoulder. He closed her
bedroom door behind him so that he would hear her open it if she
tried to follow him. He couldn’t let her see what he was going to
do. He navigated his way through the dark house through memory
alone. These houses were pretty much the same anyway, each
connected to the next all the way down the street. He hurried down
the marble stairs and paused to listen when he came to the front
door. He heard no door opening upstairs, so he opened his sack and
removed a large black robe hemmed with red satin. He threw it over
his head quickly since he knew it would be hard to hear Mirra’s
door with all the fabric rustling past his ears. He tossed the
empty sack on the floor, knowing that she would find it and
consider it some sort of mysterious gift of love. He shook his head
at her childish ways, but with a smile on his face. Picking up his
long wooden box, he opened the door and stepped out into the
night.

Being a Mage brought its own heavy
responsibilities. A Mage was never to reveal his true identity, and
that proved to be very difficult. For years the Mages cultivated
the idea that they could speak to the gods and even use magic, but
once one enters the sect, he finds it to all be lies. That was
until he discovered the book.

The Book of
Oderion
. The true book, not the one
written by the Mages hundreds of years ago to replace the original
they had lost. The high-ranking Mages kept the contents of the true
book so secret that almost none of them knew what was in it, and so
when it was rewritten, most of it was made up. Uritus understood
why the original was so well-protected; it held the secret to
unravel everything and rebuild the world as he saw fit. It also
told him where to find the particular artifact he kept inside the
plain wooden box so as not to draw attention to it. It was
deserving of a much grander case, of solid gold and studded with
jewels, for this item was much more valuable than all of the riches
in Medora combined.