Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles Page 12

  Soon Tāseti and the others joined Kusala. They sat together by the stream and watched their inhalations and exhalations with extreme concentration, emptying their minds of thought. It was possible to pass within a few paces of the warriors and not see a single one, so naturally did they merge with their surroundings. Tugars believed invisibility was a state of mind: Silence the mind, and the body became difficult to see.

  Eventually Kusala spoke, his voice blending harmonically with the ripples of the stream. Only then did the starling take flight.

  “We will cross the gap, skirt the eastern foothills, and proceed to Nissaya.”

  Another period of silence greeted these words. As expected, Tāseti was the next to speak. “Chieftain, should we not circle around the Badaalataa and search for Lord Torgon?”

  Kusala took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You saw what he did to me at Dibbu-Loka when I pressed him. I will not do so again. He wants me to return to Anna with the noble ones—and for the rest of you to join the defense of Nissaya. Torg will attempt to reach the White City without our help. Call it madness, if you like, but it is our duty to obey him. And it is not like he is defenseless.”

  “Lord Torgon is Maranavidu (a Knower of Death). He is beyond us,” Churikā whispered. “Naught else need be said.”

  Kusala’s eyes flared in response to the young Asēkha’s bold words. Churikā was Sōbhana’s replacement, the most recent of their order, and she was similar to her predecessor in manner and appearance, though a finger-length taller.

  “Sometimes the young—even those who are brash—perceive things more clearly than their elders,” Kusala said. “Churikā speaks the truth. Torg is beyond us. We are merely his soldiers.”

  “There is no shame in that,” Podhana said. “I would rather be Lord Torgon’s pawn than a king among kings.”

  “Satthar . . . Satthar . . . Satthar . . . (Master . . . Master . . . Master . . .)” several others chanted in response.

  “It is well we are reminded of whom we serve and why,” Kusala added. “In the words of the great and wise Churikā, ‘naught else need be said.’ So let us begin our journey southward. Nissaya is more than one hundred and twenty leagues from this place. I intend to reach the fortress in fewer than ten days.”

  “The land is rugged, and it is likely we will encounter resistance,” Tāseti said. “If we have to stop and fight, ten days will be unattainable.”

  “Fewer than ten days,” Kusala reminded.

  WHEN THE NEED is dire, Asēkhas can journey amazing distances in relatively short periods of time. On the blazing sands of Tējo, Kusala once traveled more than thirty leagues in a single day on the back of a camel, and it was not unheard of to walk a hundred leagues in five days. But despite their adaptability, Asēkhas still were creatures of the desert. The mountains and foothills of Mahaggata were not their preferred terrain.

  The most difficult part of their journey would be near its beginning, when they would be forced to cross the Gap of Gamana. Kusala had no idea how they would accomplish this without skirmishes, but he hoped he and his warriors would clash with relatively small groups, dispatching and moving on. If they could reach the foothills south of the gap, there would be plenty of cover and less enemy activity. From there, he believed they could proceed to Nissaya with relative ease.

  After their meeting at the stream, it took the Asēkhas a full day and night to march between a pair of mountains and reach the northern border of the gap. At dawn, they crouched beneath a rock shelter and chewed on Cirāya, the green cactus that provided liquid and nutrition. If rationed carefully, the cactus fiber would last the entire journey, but Kusala didn’t believe they would have to go to that extreme. South of the gap, game and wild vegetables would be plentiful, and there were villages and farms near the western shore of Lake Ti-ratana. The enemy might occupy some of these, but the Tugars had friends in many places.

  This forest lined the northern border of the gap, followed by a league or so of tall grasses that also provided concealment. But after that came at least five leagues of open plain. The Asēkhas would have to wait until dark before attempting to cross.

  “Let’s eat, then get some sleep,” Kusala said. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a good rest. At night, our chances of proceeding unseen will be improved, though the black wolves can see better in the dark than day.”

  “We could split apart and regroup,” Podhana suggested.

  “I prefer we remain together,” Kusala said. “If . . . when we have to fight, we’ll be more effective as a single unit. Besides, I’m in the mood for killing. Let them come.”

  They broke camp at dusk and moved through the forest into the tall grass. A broad layer of clouds swept across the sky, glowing in the moonlight. Even ordinary eyes could see for hundreds of paces.

  “Karma is not on our side,” Kusala said. “But I will wait no longer to cross. Too much is at stake to linger.”

  They left the security of the tall grass and entered the plain. Their black outfits and hair provided camouflage in the darkness, but they still felt exposed. The Asēkhas moved silently at a steady jog in a single line, soon encountering their first signs of trouble, a large enemy camp stretching for more than a league in both directions. At least five thousand soldiers, Mogols and wolves were strewn across the field, gathering around at least a hundred bonfires. Kusala marveled at the effort it had taken just to drag this much deadwood into the plain.

  “We might as well have crossed this morning,” he whispered to Tāseti. “Do you have suggestions?”

  “We have no choice but to take the long way around,” the second in command said. “Not even the Asēkhas can fight this many. We must withdraw now. But do we flee to the east or west?”

  “If we go east, we’ll eventually reach the shores of Ti-ratana,” Kusala said. “Forest borders most of the lake, so we would again have cover. But the farther east we travel, the closer we’ll come to the specter of Avici.”

  A scuffling sound interrupted their debate. Churikā came forward bearing a struggling captive, her hand clasped over his mouth. The golden soldier, minus his armor, had a terrified look in his eyes. His padded breeches were down at his knees.

  “I found this one relieving himself away from the others,” the warrior said. “Perhaps he can enlighten us.”

  Kusala glared at the captive. “When she removes her hand, make no sound,” he said. “If you do as you’re told, I will allow you to live.”

  The wild-eyed soldier nodded, his face so red it appeared swollen. Churikā slowly released her grip.

  “Whisper . . . remember to whisper,” Kusala warned. “Now, tell me: Is there any place we can cross where the land is free of eyes?”

  “The gap is full,” the soldier said in a voice so low even Kusala strained to hear. “The bosses are claiming that a wizard is about, and the King wants him dead. But I don’t care about no wizards, and I don’t want no troubles with you. I just had to pee, is all. I was about to go to bed!”

  “If that’s all he’s worth, we might as well end his life now,” Tāseti said.

  The soldier started to yelp, but Churikā clasped her hand over his mouth once again. Kusala waggled his finger.

  “No . . . no . . . no.”

  The soldier nodded. Again Churikā released him.

  “There is something that could work . . . maybe,” the soldier whispered hopefully.

  “Name,” Kusala said.

  “Name?”

  “What is your name?”

  “Ohhh, uh, Fabius . . . sir.”

  “You were saying, Fabius?”

  “I was saying? Ohhh . . . yes. It’s just a thought, mind you, but I might know a way you could sneak across. I heard some of the bosses talking earlier about a big bunch of wagons coming from Avici to help with the war. They were to be brought around north of Ti-ratana and stocked with supplies as they moved through the farmlands—and then taken to Nissaya to help feed our army when it arrives there. When th
e wagons cross the gap, they’ll be lightly guarded—you know, because they’re empty right now. You might be able to steal a ride. Could you sneak into the beds without being seen? Or maybe you’re strong enough to hang on underneath?” Kusala said nothing, intensifying the soldier’s discomfort. “Does that help at all?” More silent staring. “Are you going to kill me, anyway?”

  Kusala’s face grew soft, as if he had been sincerely mollified. “Your idea has merit. We’ll consider it. But I have another question: What should we do with you?”

  The soldier’s eyes brightened. “If you let me go, I promise I won’t say anything to anybody. I’ll wrap myself in my bedroll and go right to sleep.”

  “You expect us to believe that? Do you take the Asēkhas for fools?”

  “The Asēkhas? I . . . I . . . no, of course not. I meant no offense, SIR!”

  “Shhhhhh . . . lower your voice.”

  “Yes . . . sir.”

  Kusala rested his hand on Fabius’ shoulder. “Do you doubt the honor of the Asēkhas?” he said sternly.

  “Doubt it? Of course not. No one doubts it.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “No . . . sir.”

  “Do you remember my vow?”

  “You said you wouldn’t kill me if I behaved. Which I did. I’m not lying about the wagons, neither.”

  “An honorable man can sense honor in another. I want to believe you, Fabius, but it behooves me to be cautious.”

  “Cautious? Does that mean you’re going to kill me?”

  “No. A vow is a vow. This is what I’m going to do, for the sake of caution. While the rest of us go to find the wagons, Churikā will remain here with you . . . just to ensure we get a good head start. At midnight she’ll let you go, but she’ll stay here and watch you enter the camp, just in case. If you betray us, she will hunt you down and kill you in the most painful manner she can devise, regardless of who tries to stop her. Do you doubt it?”

  “No, sir. And I’ll stay quiet as a mouse, I promise. I am an honorable man, just like you.”

  “Very well, Fabius. We’ll be going now. If you’re not ‘quiet as a mouse,’ Churikā will cut off your head. Do you think you can stop her?”

  “I know I can’t,” the soldier whispered. “But she won’t have to. I’ll behave myself, I promise.”

  “From one honorable man to another, I hope you do.”

  A LITTLE BEFORE midnight, the cloud cover thickened, and cool rain began to fall. The soldier shivered miserably in his underclothes. Churikā took mercy and motioned for Fabius to return to his camp.

  “I’ll be watching from the darkness,” she said. “If you betray us, the first thing I’ll do is fillet your little cock with my dagger. Then I’ll jam my sword into the hole between your buttocks—and twist the blade.”

  Fabius went pale. “Yes, sir . . . er, ma’am . . . er, mistress. I won’t say a word to nobody. All I want to do is curl up in my blanket. No one will ever know this happened.”

  “Go, then.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Now!”

  “Thank you, mistress.”

  Then he stumbled toward the nearest fire. Soon after, Churikā sprinted off—but not in the direction of Ti-ratana.

  The moment Fabius entered the camp, he lost his honor and began to scream at anyone and everyone. “The Asēkas are here . . . and the Tugars—a whole army of them. Someone save me. She’s going to cut off my cock!”

  Meanwhile, the rain began to fall harder, causing the bonfires to hiss and crackle. Soon, it became a downpour. Internally the bonfires remained blazing hot, but externally they were temporarily extinguished, causing them to exude enormous amounts of smoke. Wolves bearing Mogol warriors were sent east to hunt down the invaders, along with several hundred hastily gathered soldiers. A dozen more wolves and riders went off in the direction that the Asēkha assassin was said to be lurking. But Kusala and the other Asēkhas, who had paid little heed to Fabius’ earlier suggestion, had moved half a league to the west and were watching the delirium while lying on their chests in the short grass.

  The Asēkhas watched and waited—for just the right moment. When the downpour intensified yet another notch, Kusala leapt up and ran toward the western flank of the camp.

  “Paharati ca Evati! (Kill and flee!)” he shouted. The Asēkhas raced forward like a herd of snarling beasts armed with razor-sharp claws. Golden soldiers fell, along with Mogols, wolves, vampires, and ghouls. Kusala and the Asēkhas entered frenzy, and they were not to be denied.

  By the time the storm ended, several hundred of the enemy lay dead or maimed.

  The Asēkhas, meanwhile, had accomplished their goal. They had crossed the gap.

  THOUGH KUSALA had never had any intention of following the soldier’s suggestion, it did plant a seed in his methodical mind. If indeed there were a line of wagons headed southward along Ti-ratana’s shore, it would be wise to disrupt it. Kusala believed Torg would have agreed, if he were with them. His king rarely passed up an opportunity to befuddle the enemy.

  “But you said you wanted to reach Nissaya in fewer than ten days,” Tāseti argued after being told of Kusala’s plan. “Now you want to add more to our duties?”

  “We’re very close to Ti-ratana already, a couple of leagues at most,” Kusala countered. “I simply want to go to the shore and see what we see. If there are no signs of wagons, we’ll continue southward. But if they do exist, and we can disrupt their passage, we’ll reduce Mala’s supply line. It’s a temptation I can’t resist.”

  Churikā, whose youthful boldness seemed to have no bounds, spoke next. “It appears our ruse fooled the enemy. But it could end up working against us. Many of them had already marched off—in the direction of Ti-ratana—before we assailed what remained of their camp. If they reach the wagons before we do, they will no longer be lightly guarded.”

  She reminds me so much of Sōbhana. “If that’s the case, we won’t reveal ourselves,” Kusala said. “Torg made it clear that he wanted all of the Asēkhas to stay alive. That is my intention, as well. But I’ll allow no further discussion on this matter. Let us make our way to the lake. Dawn approaches, and I would prefer to arrive while a little darkness yet remains.”

  Kusala and the Asēkhas trotted into the lightly forested area between the eastern foothills of the Mahaggatas and the western coast of Ti-ratana. Eventually they passed into the open field of a lakeside farm that its human inhabitants appeared to have abandoned. Spinach, carrots, and corn had already been planted, and even this early in the spring, some of the spinach was ready to harvest. In the distance they could hear the bleating of goats and the yapping of cattle dogs. Something stirred these creatures, but the desert warriors were too far away to determine what it might be.

  As they neared the lake, the field dipped sharply downward, revealing Ti-ratana’s glittering surface. A pair of fifty-oared galleys was anchored offshore, and several kabangs roped to a half-dozen dinghies had been dragged onto the sandy bank. Just a few paces from the water’s edge, an angry interrogation was taking place in the light of a blazing fire. The Asēkhas crouched in the darkness, gauging the situation. Soon after, they moved in close enough to hear what was happening.

  A tiny man—entirely naked—was being harshly questioned by what appeared to be a high-ranking golden soldier and a ship captain probably in the soldier’s employ. A dozen other tiny people, two of whom were cradling whimpering infants, were roped at their ankles, Mogol-style, off to the side. They looked nervous, but not cowed.

  “Where did she say she was going?” the soldier shouted at the prisoner.

  “I tell you before,” the little man responded, “she say nothing to Moken. She and man who look like you fly away on baby dragon. Moken and his people see them no more.”

  The Mogol reached down and slapped Moken hard on the face.

  “If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll kill all of you,” the soldier said. “But the children will die first—a
nd it won’t be quick or quiet. I’ll ask you one last time, where did she say she was . . .”

  “. . . goiiiiing” came out of his mouth as his head separated from his shoulders and tumbled into the fire, still wearing an expression of disbelief. The Mogol was the next to lose his head, and the thirty or so other captors died, silently, within the next few moments. After being freed of their bindings, the boat people bowed at the feet of the Asēkhas.

  “Rise, there is no need for deference,” Kusala said. “Your enemies are our enemies.” Then he pointed at the galleys anchored offshore. “Do you know how many of our enemy remain aboard?”

  “At least thirty on each boat, and one hundred other big people who are their slaves. They somehow find us in darkness. Moken surprised.”

  “What did the soldier want to know?”

  “Golden-haired lady and golden-haired man were with us. The bad man wanted to know where they go. But Moken does not know.”

  “Very well. Rest assured that those who remain on the ships will soon be removed from their posts. Where you go from here is your business. We’ll take one of the galleys. You may have the other.”

  “Moken grateful, but big oars too heavy,” the little man said. “My people just want to return to our kabangs and be left alone.”

  As the first sliver of sun peeked over the lake’s horizon, a team of Asēkhas boarded each galley. Most of the crew surrendered without a fight, knowing the futility of facing the most supreme of desert warriors in battle. The few who did resist were quickly dispatched, taken ashore, and thrown into the fire. The air stank of burning flesh.