Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) Page 6
When it became so dark that even he could barely see, Mala used Vikubbati to illuminate the path. Golden light erupted from the trident in violent fashion, causing even the tree branches to withdraw. As if not to be outdone, Carūūl glowed like a crimson cinder. Between the trident and the ring, Mala felt all-powerful. Except for Invictus, who could stand against him? He only wished that he had wielded these two weapons when Bhayatupa had caught him unawares in the northern mountains. Things would have been different.
On the sixteenth day of the march, Mala emerged from the darkness of Java. The monster stood upon Iddhi-Pada and gazed westward, lust building in his throat. He could hear Invictus lecturing him: “Patience, my pet. Your time will come.”
A dracool flew down and landed nearby.
“What is it?” Mala snarled. “Can’t you see that I’m deep in thought?”
“My apologies, Lord Mala,” the baby dragon said. “But there is news to report. Great portions of Iddhi-Pada have been destroyed. Unless the road is repaired, it will add at least a week to our march.”
“Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“You ordered us to stay with the army,” the dracool hissed. “Not until you disappeared within Java did we dare to venture forth.”
“Yeah, yeah . . . whatever,” Mala said. “Your kind always has some sort of excuse.”
Then he shook his great fist. “Get me Augustus! Where’s that shivering coward hiding now?”
“I’m here, lord,” the newborn general said, riding over to join Mala. “Do you have commands?”
“Make yourself useful, for once. I need every Stone-Eater and troll we’ve got up front . . . fast. Tell them that Mala says to hustle their ugly asses. There’s work to be done.”
6
THE FLOWER petals were an unusual shade of blue, far richer and deeper than any he had ever seen. If his eyes had not been so keen to such things, he might have believed the petals were black.
“I’ve never seen this flower before, have you?” Then he blushed. “I’m dreadfully sorry. I can’t believe I was so thoughtless. Please forgive me.”
This caused Peta, the blind ghost child, to laugh. “I’m not so easily offended, Rathburt. Besides, I can see the flower in ways that you cannot. This one exudes less heat than is typical, its petals are as silky as a cattle dog’s ears, and its scent—though subtle—is luscious.”
Rathburt, the only other living Death-Knower besides Torg, buried his nose in the petals and took a long sniff. “I don’t smell a thing.”
“I told you it was subtle.”
Rathburt laughed. “More so than I.”
“You’re a dear. I’m glad you’re still alive and haven’t yet moved on.”
“I’m not glad. This all feels so surreal. Do you know what day it is? And where everyone is right now?”
“Of course I know what day it is. As for where everyone is, I can tell you that too—though after a while it will grow tedious. Torg and Laylah are in Jivita. In fact, they are eating breakfast at a place called Boulogne’s. Elu also is alive and well in the White City, though he has become a personal guardian of Queen Rajinii. Lucius, Bonny, Ugga and Bard are marching with the Daasa toward Jivita. The druids are massing in Dhutanga’s interior in preparation for their assault. The Asēkhas are in Nissaya, helping the black knights prepare for battle. Mala’s army has left Avici and is lumbering toward the fortress. Anything else?”
“If you’re powerful enough to know all these things, why don’t you do something about the mess we’re in? Put some kind of Happy Spell on everybody and end this madness.”
“This is not within my power.”
Rathburt sighed. “Tell me something useful, then: Does Elu miss me?”
Peta smiled. “Even you know the answer to that.”
“I wish I could somehow let him know that I’m all right.”
“That might be something that is within my power.”
VEDANA DIDN’T ALWAYS watch Peta. In the blink of an eye, the demon could travel from one far-distant place in the physical world to another, but she was not a god and was only consciously present in one place at a time. For most of the past several days, she had been spying on Peta and Rathburt from a perch high in the trees. But the night after the Privy Council in Jivita, Vedana left the perch and visited Bhayatupa in his lair.
Immediately, Peta sensed the demon’s departure. While Rathburt slept soundly on a bed of pine needles, the ghost-child vanished and reappeared inside Elu’s room in the queen’s palace. The Svakaran had kicked off his bed covers and was sleeping naked. Peta knew this because she could feel the heat from his bare flesh.
Peta laid a glowing hand on the Svakaran’s cheek, then withdrew it. She sensed his eyes opening and heard a slight creaking of the bed frame as he sat up.
“Is Elu dreaming?” he whispered.
“Sort of . . . but not entirely.”
Peta sensed the Svakaran smile, feeling wisps of air rise from the corners of his lips. Then she heard him cover himself with a pillow. “Elu is sorry.”
“There’s no need to be. I can’t see, remember? Besides, I didn’t come here to gawk at you. I have something important to say.”
“Is it about Rathburt?”
“Yes. I’m pleased to tell you that he survived the rapids and is alive and well. You also should know that he misses you very much.”
The Svakaran cast aside the pillow and leapt off the bed. “Why can’t Elu see him now? Please take Elu to him!”
“Rathburt is far away . . . many leagues.”
“Elu could get us a big horse. We could ride together.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not permitted. I’m only able to visit you for a short time.”
Peta heard the Svakaran sigh, then gasp, then grab another pillow from somewhere else. “Sorry,” he said again.
Peta giggled. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell Rathburt?”
The Svakaran’s voice became solemn. “Yes . . . tell him that Elu and his friends forgive him for not coming sooner.”
“That’s all you want to say?”
“It is enough.”
WHEN PETA RETURNED to Rathburt, he was still asleep. She could sense a profound difference in Rathburt since he had successfully achieved a Death Visit while within the cavern beneath the roaring waters of the Cariya River. His body emanated far more energy than it had before, reminding her of The Torgon, though not nearly that radiant. Still, Rathburt had become a force with which to be reckoned.
Peta knew that Rathburt would need every bit of his strength for the great trial to come. Her suffering over the past ten thousand years would not compare to what Rathburt was doomed to experience in the not-too-distant future. Though he pretended to be a coward, Rathburt was, in truth, a brave man. He had to be. Otherwise, his revelation at the frozen waterfall would have driven him mad.
Peta enjoyed the warmth of the early morning sun on her cheeks as it filtered through the canopy of trees. Once again she found herself reveling in the glory of physical form, adoring the myriad sensations despite her lack of sight. This part of Dhutanga was close enough to its southern border to resemble an ordinary forest. Birds chirped and bees buzzed. White oaks and yellow poplars dominated the hidden hollow in which Rathburt slept. Physical life had so many dimensions. And Peta could see them all.
For instance, she knew that a brown hawk was about to slay a pigeon. To save the pigeon, she could make a racket and startle the hawk, but performing that act would only doom another creature. The hawk, meanwhile, needed to kill the pigeon to feed its young, most of which would fall prey to a tree snake later that afternoon. The list went on and on. Everywhere she looked, she could see. Life. Death. Pleasure. Pain. Beauty. Ugliness. Desire. Aversion. Buy one, get one free.
“Hello, Peta,” Rathburt said. She wasn’t startled because she’d already foreseen portions of this conversation. “My . . . but it’s a beautiful morning. I could sit here all day and just breathe.”
(And he would say, “You what? You were with him? Did you tell him that I’m all right? What did he say?”)
“You what? You were with him? Did you tell him that I’m all right? What did he say? Tell me.”
In her vision, she had not foreseen the words, “Tell me.” Even she could not predict everything.
“He wanted to visit you, but I told him it was impossible.”
(Rathburt would say, “And?”)
“And?”
“He asked me to give you a message.”
(Rathburt would say, “For Anna’s sake, child . . . tell me!”)
Instead: “Please . . . tell me.”
“He said, ‘Tell Rathburt that Elu and his friends forgive him for not coming sooner . . .’”
(Rathburt would say, “What? That’s it?” And then stomp around the hollow, puzzled and annoyed.)
But Rathburt only whispered, “Elu said that?”
Then he flung himself onto the ground—and sobbed.
This confounded Peta.
WHEN VEDANA returned, she found Peta’s physical incarnation huddled over Rathburt, who was crying hysterically. The ghost-child’s hand rested tenderly on the Death-Knower’s shoulder.
“What’s he boo-hooing about?” Vedana said. “Have you ever seen such a baby?”
“Shut up!” Peta said. “For once, just shut up!”
Vedana took a step back. Then she recovered enough to say: “In my day, a daughter never spoke to her mother that way.”
To Vedana’s utmost surprise, Rathburt scrambled to his feet. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll shut you up, you horrid monster!” the Death-Knower screamed, waving his staff in Vedana’s face. Blue motes sparkled in the air.
Vedana yelped.
And took her leave.
Evil Within
1
THE MORNING after his dream visit from the ghost-child, Elu awoke refreshed and joyful. Ever since Rathburt had saved him from the terror of the vines, Elu had been in a good mood almost all the time. And why not? Nothing in life could be worse than what he already had endured. Not even death.
A henchman served him breakfast on a silver tray: parboiled eggs, a slice of spiced pork, white cheese, dried blackberries sprinkled with honey, and sweet white wine. The queen’s personal guard ate well. Elu thought back to the night before last when the surprise pronouncement had occurred.
The queen had woken him out of a sound sleep, entering his room well past midnight while wearing only fleecy white robes that were slit at the hips. She drew up a deep chair next to Elu’s bed and tucked her bare feet under her tight buttocks.
“Have you ever been alone with a queen?”
“Elu has been alone with Laylah.”
Rajinii snorted. “The Torgon would call her a queen, I’m sure. As for the rest of us?” She made a strange face. “So, being alone with a queen isn’t new to you. But how many times have you been alone with a beautiful woman?”
“Well . . . many times, to be honest. Before Elu was little, the women of his village came to him often . . . sometimes too often. And even after Elu became small, he slept with the whores in Kamupadana, and most of them were very pretty.”
“Before you were small? After you were small? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the queen said in an annoyed tone. “Regardless, you’re not getting my point!” She stood and towered over him, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric like the tips of spears. For a moment, the Svakaran feared she might strike him. But her face softened and she sat back down in the chair.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
She took several long breaths before continuing her peculiar interrogation. “How long have you known The Torgon?”
“Elu has known the great one only a short time. But Elu loves him.”
“The great one,” she chuckled. “An appropriate name. I have called him that myself, in the privacy of my own chambers.” Then she sighed. “A day? A week? A year?”
“Your highness?”
“How long have you known him?”
“Ohhhh. Hmmm. Since before winter?”
“Half a year . . . And in all that time, did he ever mention my name to you?”
Though he suspected it would upset her, he did not lie. “Not that Elu remembers, your highness. The great one speaks only of Laylah.”
“Damn her!” the queen shouted, leaping out of the chair so fast it caused Elu to cringe. “Why couldn’t Invictus have kept better tabs?”
“Elu likes Laylah. Elu loves her. She and the great one were made for each other.”
“So you say!” the queen snarled, pressing her face so near to his that their noses almost touched. “So . . . you . . . say.”
Then she walked over to a small window and looked out at the palace grounds. “Not long ago, they rode off together on one of my stallions and are somewhere out there . . . now. They have no respect for me. Or Jivita. They care only for themselves.”
“Lord Torgon cares for everyone. But when a man loves a woman, truly loves a woman, there can be no other.”
The queen swung slowly around. The Svakaran was surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. “Why can’t it be . . . me?” she said, her voice suddenly so tender it tore at Elu’s heart. “I love him . . . too.”
Elu had been naked in the bed, but he wrapped the top cover around his body and shuffled over to where she stood. “There are many people in the world you could love and who could love you. You can be happy, if you allow yourself to be. Elu knows this well, your highness.”
Rajinii smiled, but then—to the Svakaran’s surprise—she started screaming for the guards. At least a dozen poured into the room, their armor hard as stone. Elu felt helpless, with just a bedcover for protection.
“What is it, your highness?” one of the guards said. “Has he threatened you?”
“I need witnesses for a royal pronouncement,” she shouted, her voice almost manic. “I offer the Svakaran warrior a position of high honor. Elu, will you accept?”
“Accept what?”
“I wish you to become a member of my personal guard.”
This amazed the guards, who were tall and proud.
Elu wasn’t sure what to do. Finally he bowed. “Elu is honored, your highness. He accepts.”
“Very good. I will require your services in the morning.” Then she fled the room.
Afterward, Elu had lain alone on his bed, too excited to sleep. “The queen’s personal guard . . .” he said over and over.
THREE DAYS AFTER the meeting of the Privy Council, Sir Elu alerted Torg that the queen wished to speak with him in the gardens behind the palace. Laylah was uncomfortable but accepted it as a necessity. Torg took both Obhasa and the Silver Sword, sliding the latter into its new jewel-studded scabbard. Then he strode out through the back of the palace. Several henchmen skittered alongside him.
The queen stood amid an expanse of wildflowers, holding the reins of a pair of spirited destriers in one hand and her white staff in the other. One of the war horses was a muscled stallion almost as magnificent as Izumo, and though his coat was white, his eyes were blue, matching the petals that engulfed his coronets. Next to the stallion was a white mare. Torg had seen no other horse as great, save Bhojja herself. The mare’s name was Arusha, and she loved only Rajinii.
“This stallion, among all others, is the only one Arusha will tolerate as a mate,” the queen said. “His name is Vājin, and hitherto he has never abided a rider. Can you tame him?”
“You know that I can,” Torg said, “though I will remove his reins and saddle and ride in Tugarian fashion.”
Even as he spoke, Torg could hear Rathburt shouting, “Showoff!” But Torg backed up his boast and soon rode Vājin as if the two had been paired for life.
“Race you to the first gate,” Rajinii shouted and spurred Arusha forward. Though Vājin ran with surprising speed for his girth, the s
tallion was no match for the mare. The queen beat Torg to the gate by several hundred paces.
“Arusha is indeed a great horse,” Torg said as he rode up beside Rajinii.
“She has no equal.”
“Except for Bhojja.”
“I will have to see it to believe it.”
They cantered through the gates and into the fields north of Jivita. It was nearing dusk on a beautiful, but exceptionally warm spring day. The horses slowed to a walk. Several dozen horsemen hovered within sight, but Torg and the queen paid them no heed. They rode for a while without speaking, enjoying the smell of the sweet air.
Finally Torg broke the silence. “Why Elu?”
“What do you mean?”
“Rajinii!”
“You know why I did it—to make you angry. You’ve hurt me. I wanted to hurt you back.”
“When he accepted your offer, he knew naught what he was doing. Rescind it.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Besides, he is pleased to be in my service.”
“When the wars are over, he’ll no longer be pleased.”
“What does that matter? Few will survive the coming horrors. Once I fall, he’ll be released from service, so you can stop fretting.”
“Why are you so certain of your demise?”
“Women know these things.”
“A poor answer.”
“It’s the only one I have to give.”
Torg rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he stared hard into Rajinii’s eyes. “Tell me your dreams.”
“Why, Torgon, you’ve never said such a thing to me before. Are you flirting?”