Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) Page 14

  Some observers believed that the Tugars’ dense flesh enabled them to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat. However, this didn’t explain how their clothing also emerged relatively unscathed. Because of this, most observers believed that the Tugars employed a special form of magic available only to the warriors. Dvipa knew there was some truth to these legends. After all, Tugarian magic had given birth to the Simōōn. But something far more pedestrian enabled the warriors to pass through it. The Tugars called it Samsappati Viya Sappo, which meant Slither like a Snake in the ancient tongue. The warriors were able to burrow a cubit or so beneath the sand and squirm forward, inch by inch. It was a tremendous expenditure of energy, and therefore was performed as infrequently as possible. When the Tent City relocated, the Tugars lowered the Simōōn and then created another one around their new home site. But when the whirlwind was in place, the only way in or out was beneath the sand.

  Two paces from the edge of the Simōōn, the scout came into view. To the untrained eye, it appeared as if he had stridden through the whirlwind on foot. But Dvipa knew that the scout had only dared to stand where the winds were least powerful.

  “Welcome, Aya. Tell me what you know,” Dvipa said. Among the Asēkhas, only Chieftain-Kusala was more impatient.

  After Aya bowed, he remained bent over, breathing heavily. “Asēkha . . . the news is . . . dire. The truth is even worse . . . than the rumors. An army of fiends twenty thousand strong has passed through Barranca into Tējo and is slaughtering all in its path.”

  “Twenty thousand?”

  “And growing. From what little we have learned, Senasana is in shambles, and anyone the fiends have since encountered is either devoured or transformed. Before I left to report to you, I witnessed a small force of Beydoos attack the army’s flank, but it was overwhelmed.”

  Dvipa paced frantically. “Kusala’s commands were clear,” he said, speaking more to himself than to Aya. “Other than random patrols, the Tugars were not to leave the protection of the Simōōn—for any reason. Regardless of what happened at Nissaya or Jivita, the chieftain wanted the few of us who remained in Anna to stay in the Tent City with its inhabitants. Under no circumstances were we to lower the whirlwind.”

  “Surely Kusala could not have foreseen the horror that approaches.”

  “The fiends cannot pass through the Simōōn,” Dvipa said. “And even if they could, the Tugars are immune to the undines. Those among us who are not purebred would find ample protection, even if we were breached. Anna is in little danger from this army, regardless of its numbers.”

  “That may be true,” Aya said, “but if the Tugars do not march in force, the fiends will threaten everyone else in Tējo. Heat or thirst do not discourage them, and they appear to require no sustenance other than flesh.”

  “Perhaps I could spare five hundred warriors from our remaining thousand,” Dvipa mused. “That should be enough to defeat the monsters and still leave us well-protected. But there is not enough time for twenty-five score to undergo Samsappati Viya Sappo. Let us return to the Tent City and alert our people. We will lower the Simōōn in the morning.”

  THE DAY AFTER the battle between Invictus and Bhayatupa, the monster that had once been Sister Tathagata still was more than ten leagues south of the army of fiends that marched toward Tējo. But she knew the fiends were there and ached to join them.

  Only that wasn’t really true. Rather than join them, she wanted to lead them. And she knew she had the might to do so.

  Since her last feeding, the rebellious voice within her head had quieted to a whisper and no longer caused her much pain. Tathagata walked with great strides, far outdistancing her three followers, whose legs were gashed and oozing from too many awkward poundings against the snaggy rocks of Barranca. But she didn’t care. Like a god, she could make more followers whenever she pleased; all she required was living prey. Once she was finished with the desert dwellers of Tējo, she would march on the rest of the world.

  Tathagata heard the moth before she saw it, a fluttering sound that she found annoying. The ugly black thing spun several times around her head and then squeezed roughly into her ear and disappeared. The itching was intense, but Tathagata could not dislodge the foul insect from its new hiding place. Suddenly she heard a voice.

  “The fiends can take care of Tējo’s vermin without your help, Sis!” the moth said. “You have more important duties.”

  At first Tathagata was utterly confused. But eventually she understood. And smiled. Instead of continuing northward through Barranca, she turned due east.

  Toward Anna.

  5

  ON THE SAME day that General Navarese discussed his battle plans with Lucius, the druid army began to hum. With the druid queen, Kattham Bhunjaka, well hidden and guarded in the heart of Dhutanga, one hundred thousand druids, under the leadership of Urbana, started their march toward Jivita. It would take the better part of four days to reach the Green Plains, a distance of about eighty leagues from the queen’s lair. The druids were capable of moving faster, but there was no need to hurry. Kattham desired to begin her war at about the same time as Mala assaulted Nissaya. She wanted to be certain that any Jivitan allies in the east were occupied by the Chain Man’s forces and therefore no threat to her own plans.

  Urbana no longer considered herself queen of the vampires. That position was inferior to the one she now held: general of Kattham Bhunjaka’s vast army. As a parting gift, she had been presented with a great weapon: a staff of black heartwood, fifteen cubits tall, that bore a glowing jewel on its gnarled head. Through it Urbana would wield magic that would turn the war in her favor.

  When the white horsemen were vanquished, Urbana and the druids would march eastward to greet the Chain Man’s army. On behalf of Kattham Bhunjaka, the former vampire would make demands of Mala and his minions: The ocean side of mountains would be ceded to the druid queen, which would give Dhutanga the room it needed to grow unimpeded, eventually swallowing up all lands west of Mahaggata and Kolankold. If these demands weren’t met, there would be another war. Her queen would bow to no one—not even Invictus.

  The druids were not being subtle. From the first moment of the first day of their march, the humming began. The dark trees of Dhutanga danced to the rhythm, for the druids were their keepers. But all other beings—from the Great Apes to the smallest of insects—fled before the drove. A single druid was dangerous enough, but when the wood-eaters marched one hundred thousand strong, they were terrifying to behold.

  The druids could be heard from ten leagues away. Sometime during the third day of their march, a Jivitan scout lifted her head. Then she spurred her horse southward, galloping through the forest in a rush. As she rode, she drew a white horn from her belt and blew with all her might. Other horns responded. The alarm had been sounded. Soon all of Jivita would be aware. The greatest battle in the history of the Green Plains would commence in fewer than two days. One hundred thousand druids against forty thousand white horsemen and thousands more infantry. To both sides, it seemed a mismatch.

  Each horn could be heard for a mile or more, and there were hundreds of them. Within a single bell of the first scout’s sounding, Queen Rajinii and General Navarese were aware of the druids’ advance. The army of Jivita, which had been preparing for this moment for a hundred generations, poured through the northern gates. The bells of every cathedral in the White City rang in harmony, alerting the civilians. About a third of the citizenry who still remained gathered their belongings and headed toward the havens by the sea. But almost one hundred thousand did not leave, confident in their army’s ability to eliminate the threat from Dhutanga. Even Burly decided to stay. If the city was overwhelmed, someone would need to remain who could put up a fight. For the most part, Jivita had been good to him, so it deserved a little loyalty in return.

  LUCIUS AND BONNY heard the horns too. The Jivitan horsemen who guarded them, numbering ten score, protectively encircled the Daasa. But Lucius ordered them to leave.
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br />   “Go now to your queen,” Lucius said.

  “We hesitate,” a captain said. “We have grown to love the Daasa.”

  “Do not fear for us,” Lucius said. “Fear only for our enemies.”

  And then Lucius turned and sprinted into the forest. Bonny and the Daasa followed, and they vanished from sight.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Torg, Laylah, Bernard, Navarese, Sir Elu, and Rajinii were the last to ride out of the northern gates. The queen, her Svakaran bodyguard, and the sorceress were resplendent in white armor, though the belts of their scabbards and the spikes on their gauntlets were bright emerald. Torg wore no armor, only a black jacket and tight-fitting breeches. The two thousand mounted Tugars—strategically scattered—also disdained armor. Their flesh sufficed.

  Archbishop Bernard wore white robes beneath a green chasuble. After taking half a day to emerge from the gates, the bulk of the army encircled him and his companions. Then Bernard spoke, his voice as piercing as a trumpet.

  “As you know, I am no soldier. While you brave men and women ride into the face of peril, I will retreat within the safety of the gates. But though I am poor with sword or bow, I do not plan to play a placid role. Instead, I will pray so loud that Ekadeva will have to hold his ears!”

  Thousands of swords rose as one, glittering in the bright sunlight.

  “But even if I whispered, the One God would hear,” Bernard said. “He does not relish the violence that is about to occur, but neither does he condone evil. His might rides with you, brave soldiers. And rest assured that any of you who do not survive the coming battle will go to a better place than the here and now.”

  Bernard turned his mount and started back toward the gates. All who watched him pass lowered their heads.

  Torg heard Navarese speak next. “Ekadeva is indeed on our side. But the One God need only lend his blessing, not his strength—for the army of Queen Rajinii is without peer. Were the druids five times their number, they could not stand against us. Prepare to ride, white horsemen. Your destiny awaits!”

  Swords clanged and horses snorted. The queen urged Arusha toward the center of the circle.

  “We fight for the glory of Ekadeva,” she shouted, prompting thunderous applause. When it finally quieted, she said, “But we fight also for Jutimantataa, the City of Splendor. Your queen loves Jivita as much as you. Therefore I ride to its defense. Will you join me?”

  There was another roar of applause, this time even louder. Chanting followed:

  “Ciram jivaatu Rajinii. (Long live the queen!)”

  With Rajinii leading the way, the first of forty-five rows surged forward, three squadrons per row spread half-a-league wide. The Jivitans usually relied on heavy armor—both for rider and horse—and compact formations, but the army that marched on this day was designed to fight druids, emphasizing speed and mobility over brute force. Only twenty-seven of the one hundred and thirty-five squadrons were adorned in full armor with lance and sword. The rest were archers wearing only skull-caps and shirts of mail beneath their tunics, with their horses bare other than saddle and reins. Each archer carried a longbow, and attached to his or her belt were three sheaves containing a total of seventy-two arrows fledged with goose feathers. Each barbed head was coated with a special pitch that burned long after the arrow found its mark. All told, the archers bore more than two million of these arrows. Without them, the Jivitans would have stood little chance against the druids, who were difficult to slay with spear or blade.

  Five thousand heavily armored infantry formed the last line of defense against the invasion. If the battle went well, the foot soldiers would see little action, but they still were well-armed, carrying javelins twice as long as a man, their iron spearheads also dipped in pitch that could be set aflame. Five thousand others served as attendants, transporting food, water, and medical supplies. The Jivitans did not expect a long engagement—in fact, they believed the battle would be over within a day—but thirst and hunger still could play a role. General Navarese had left nothing to chance.

  The Jivitan army was unsurpassed on the field of battle, and the greats among them made it even more formidable. Rajinii carried a longsword, but her most powerful weapon was her staff and its magical head of jade. Arusha, barded with sallet and bevor, bore the queen proudly. Twenty necromancers—twelve women, including Manta, and eight men—were scattered throughout the ranks, each bearing a similar staff, though less in might. Laylah wielded Obhasa and a Tugarian short sword. Her stallion, Izumo, also wore sallet and bevor. Jord was no longer with them, but for good reason: Bhojja now stood in her place and carried Torg on her bare back. He wielded only the Silver Sword. And last, but not least, were one hundred score Tugars, each bearing uttaras, short swords, daggers, and slings. If the druids underestimated this threat, they would do so at their peril.

  The queen leaned over to Torg, her long black hair flowing beneath her helm. “We will prevail, but I do not believe I will be among the survivors.”

  “Are you so certain of your demise?”

  “Don’t worry, Torgon,” Rajinii said. “These are my words, not the sorcerer’s. I will not fall without a fight.”

  “The bravest can say no more,” Torg responded.

  The Svakaran was the next to speak, flipping up his visor and bringing unintentional humor to the moment. “Be of light heart, your highness. With Elu at your side, no harm will come to you.”

  Rajinii’s laughter could be heard even above the pounding of hooves and clanking of armor. But her mirth was born of love, not derision.

  Laylah spoke next to Torg. “General Navarese wants the queen to retreat to the rear of the army. I’m surprised you haven’t demanded the same of me.”

  Torg smiled. “There are powers within you that have yet to be awakened. Perhaps the druids will ignite them.”

  “So that I can use them to protect myself against my brother?”

  “If it comes to that . . .”

  Afterward, they rode in silence.

  No more needed to be said.

  6

  ON THE SAME morning that the white horsemen rode to confront the druids, the great army of Mala arrived at Nissaya. The Chain Man was the first to come into view, striding boldly up Iddhi-Pada with Vikubbati in hand.

  Behind him followed a row of horsemen, some human, some not; and alongside them strode a troll, a Kojin, and a druid. Dracools appeared in the sky, though they stayed high above out of respect for the Tugars and their slings. And behind this menagerie of creatures came a legion of golden soldiers flanked by cavalry, their helms and shields glistening in the bright sunlight.

  Trolls came next. Mogols followed and then more golden soldiers, along with witches and wild men, Stone-Eaters, and more Kojins, and every conceivable form of monster, demon, and giant.

  Two hundred thousand strong.

  Unexpectedly, the golden soldiers encircled the entire fortress, standing side-by-side half a mile from the first wall, far out of range of arrow or trebuchet. Even the cavalry was ordered to dismount and join the others, leaving their horses to an uncertain fate. But Mala and his monsters gathered in the fields in front of the gate of Balak. By dusk, wagons had been drawn close, tents had been pitched, fires were blazing, and the greatest army to ever walk the world was settling into place. In the morning, the battle would commence.

  However, Mala was not as pleased as he had long imagined he would be. It wasn’t that things weren’t going as planned. Nor was he intimidated by the sight of Nissaya. What bothered him now, robbing the occasion of its rightful gratification, had occurred four days before—and it still bothered him. He had been observing a crew of cave trolls and Stone-Eaters repair a portion of Iddhi-Pada when he heard the blaring of a horn.

  Everyone within his range of vision had gone still. Even Mala had been dazed.

  The blast had come from Nissaya, of that he was certain, but who or what among the black knights had had the strength to blow with such might? Not even a Kojin could do such a thing.
In fact, what bothered Mala most was that he could think of no one else capable of it other than Invictus, Torg, or himself.

  Except . . . for another snow giant.

  Was it possible?

  No! Himamahaakaayos were too timid and cowardly to come all this way.

  Even while the crescent moon set at midnight, Mala continued to ponder this unexpected turn of events. And the more he contemplated, the more frustrated he became. He could hardly wait for morning, as much to solve this puzzle as to finally confront the enemy.

  Army of Fiends

  1

  EVEN AS THE magical chain encasing Bhayatupa’s neck began to cool, so too did Invictus’ rage. For whatever reasons, he still clung to fond memories of his childhood spent with Vedana, and when his grandmother attempted to cross him like this, a portion of his mind admired her for it. He had grown beyond her, but the fact remained that he owed her.

  “First Laylah and now Bhayatupa,” Invictus said out loud. “Grandmother, you are more formidable than I have given you credit. You certainly have a way of making things more difficult than they need to be. Once these wars are over, I’m going to have to punish you. Do you doubt that I can?”

  As Invictus spoke, his body bobbed up and down as if standing on the deck of a ship in a slowly rolling sea. Through the clearing haze, Invictus stared down at the dragon’s massive chest as it rose and fell beneath him with each breath. Bhayatupa lay on his side, as if taking a nap. The multicolored chain that encased the length of his neck glowed without cessation, searing the crimson scales.

  The Sun God grunted, but a knowing smile crept upon his face. Perhaps he could find a use for the broken beast. At the least, Bhayatupa was faster than a Sampati and more comfortable to ride than a dracool.