The Archer's Heart (58 page)

“Shut the fuck up!” Baram howled in rage and started forward, but Onshu quickly stepped between the families.

“Respect! Respect!” Onshu chanted, ushering Baram and Darvad into their corners.

Jandu bowed his head and prayed, the Yashvas speeding up as they circled him, their anger palpable to Keshan.

“That’s enough.” Darvad’s voice was dark and angry. “Time for all disgraced to leave this holy pyre. Even your own brothers don’t want you here. All Triya are dirtied by your presence.”

“Be quiet, Darvad.” Tarek suddenly said. “It is his right to be here.”

Keshan could not believe it. Tarek spoke in a low voice, his expression icy.

“That’s enough gloating for one day,” Tarek told Darvad.

Darvad’s forehead bulged with anger, the vein in his head rising up like an angry ‘V’. He seemed to hesitate, looking between Tarek and Jandu. Then he suddenly grabbed a mace from one of the Triya at his side and lunged forward.

At once, the Yashvas surrounding Jandu took form. An explosive wind blew the mace from Darvad’s hand and caused Jandu’s hair to fly around his head, his eyes cold and angry. Dust shot out from around him into the aghast crowd. The Yashvas’ faces transformed into those of beasts, spiraling eyes and gaping mouths. As one, the entire crowd around Mazar’s pyre stepped back, many of them crying out in fear as the Yashva surged.

Jandu turned to leave. As he did so, he made brief eye contact with Baram and winked.

At the last icon, Jandu reached out for Keshan and purposefully put his arm around him. “Let’s go.” Jandu’s voice was rough with suppressed emotion.

As they walked silently back towards the forest, the Yashvas dissipated into a less threatening presence of light once more. Many of the Triya must have made tributes to Mazar, for it was several hours by the time Keshan saw smoke rise from Mazar’s pyre.

Jandu stayed up late, checking on the men in his camp, and consulting with the Tiwari Triya man to make sure all of the deserters were armed and armored in case of any retaliation from either Uru or Paran camp. It was near midnight by the time Jandu crawled into their tent. Keshan watched him enter, his long, sleek frame revealed slowly in the moonlight as he peeled his mourning clothes from his body. Jandu crawled under the blanket with Keshan and pressed his naked body close, spooning against Keshan’s back. The feeling was as close to heaven as Keshan could ever imagine.

Chapter 54

“
N
EVER
INSULT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!”

Darvad’s face contorted in his fury. He spat at Tarek. “How
dare
you defend my enemy in front of our own forces! I am your king, you treasonous bastard!”

Tarek took a step back, sinking further into the small congregation of soldiers. Mazar’s body incinerated in the distance, filling the air with the stench of burning hair.

“I’m sorry.” Tarek bowed his head.

Darvad’s hands clenched into fists. “That cock-sucking bitch isn’t worthy of any compassion, and I will not stand by while a perverted faggot sullies my master’s funeral!”

Darvad’s words sliced through Tarek like blades. He felt the blood drain from his face.

Darvad pointed at Tarek. “What were you thinking, defending a fucking queer?”

Tarek’s throat was too dry to speak. But Darvad did not wait for a response.

“If you
ever
censor my commentary again, I swear I will turn you back into a Suya without a moment’s hesitation.” Darvad stormed into the enveloping darkness. Tarek stood still, too shocked to move.

“To your posts!” Anant cried suddenly, scattering the stunned audience of soldiers. As one they fled the scene, heading to watch towers or their tents. Only Anant remained by Tarek’s side.

Tarek ignored him. He walked towards his own tent in a daze. He had never seen Darvad so angry, or ever imagined such vengeful words would be directed at him.

Once inside his tent, Tarek reached for his jug of wine. He drank straight from the jug itself, seeking numbness.

“My lord?”  Anant said softly from the tent flap.

Tarek didn’t respond. He swallowed, wiped his mouth, and then took another long gulp.

“Tarek?” Anant asked again, stepping inside.

Tarek put the jug down and nodded to Anant.

“What is it?” he said, colder than he intended. His body felt icy.

“Do I have permission to speak freely, my lord?” Anant asked. His face was tight with anger.

“Do as you please. I’m not going to cast you down to the Suya for something as small as stating your opinion.” Tarek snorted mirthlessly.

Anant removed his helmet. His dark hair lay flat against his scalp. “How can you stand by him after what he just said? The man is a devil!”

Tarek clenched his eyes shut. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Tarek, don’t be blind!” Anant cried. “The man hates our kind. He would hate you if he knew what you were. It makes me sick to think of fighting for him!”

Tarek glared at him. “You would desert him? Where’s your honor?”

“Honor! Ha!” Anant spat. “How about Darvad’s honor? What about the rule not to attack anyone at a funeral pyre? He just broke the rules of war, an offense that would have any of the men under my command hanged as traitors!”

Tarek knew Anant spoke the truth. The attack was inexcusable. Peace at a memorial was one of the most sacred tenets of the Book of Taivo. For a moment, he wanted to agree with Anant.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I took an oath,” Tarek said weakly. “Do you understand? An oath! To defend the man at all costs, even at the cost of my life! I cannot abandon him, even if he hates me, even if he is a hypocrite!”

Anant grimaced. “You once told me you agreed with Lord Keshan, that the old ways should change.”

“I never said that,” Tarek snapped. “That was Keshan, not me.”

“But you want change, don’t you? How can you change this world if you remain so stuck in your own religious dogma?”

“It isn’t that simple!” Tarek shouted. He lowered his voice, fearful others would hear them. “You don’t understand, Anant.”

Anant narrowed his eyes. “Yes I do. You love him.”

Tarek closed his eyes.

“But you love a man who would kill you if he knew your true nature. A man who is breaking all of his promises of change, who has broken the rules. If he defiles his promises, why can’t you?”

Tarek opened his eyes, and saw Anant’s desperation. But Tarek felt nothing anymore, not for anyone. Even Anant wasn’t enough to change the man Tarek had become.

“It’s pointless,” Tarek said. “This is who I am. I owe Darvad my allegiance, and it’s too late to alter my path now.”

“It is
never
too late to follow your conscience,” Anant urged.

“He made me a Triya, Anant!” Tarek shouted. “A Triya! Do you realize how much power this man has given me?”

“And he just demonstrated he will take it away at a moment’s notice!” Anant shouted back. He made as if to say something else, but clenched his jaw instead. He straightened. “So you will not leave him.”

“No.”

“Despite everything he has said, everything he has done.”

“No.”

Anant breathed heavily in the silence. “Fine then. I’m leaving.” Anant put his helmet back on and turned towards the tent flap.

Panic swelled through Tarek. “Wait!” He grabbed Anant by the arm. “Where are you going?”

“To the forest,” Anant said. “To Keshan and Jandu. I won’t fight for a king who deserves no allegiance.”

“You are deserting?” Tarek gasped, unbelieving. “You would give up your honor as a Triya and shame your family for the sake of Jandu Paran?”

“Not for Jandu Paran. For myself and for the future,” Anant said. “Come with me. Please. Put aside your old loyalties, and your old hatreds. Fight for the noble cause you claim you believe in. Come, and be with me. Openly. We can stop hiding like criminals.”

Anant’s lips were so close, Tarek could kiss him easily. He smelled intoxicating, he looked gorgeous. He wanted nothing more than to make love to Anant and forget this horrible night ever happened. But Anant’s eyes pleaded, demanding a response.

“I can’t,” Tarek said, regret breaking his heart even as he said the words.

Anant’s eyes filled with tears. He leaned over and kissed Tarek once, tenderly, on the lips.

“I love you.” Anant sighed. “But I’m leaving.”

Anant left the tent.     

Tarek stood there, staring at the closed tent flaps a moment longer. He grabbed the nearest object, a quiver of arrows, and he threw them at the tent post. He ripped through his room, tearing through objects, breaking everything in his hands. His anger boiled through him and out of him, but nothing stopped it, nothing slowed his heart, he was so full it burst out of him, great waves of rage. He slashed at his tent with his sword, he smashed his wine jug to pieces, and then standing there, in the midst of his destruction, Tarek realized he had descended into the person he hated the most, the hypocrite, the blind follower, useless, unloved, and worthless.

He burst from the shreds of his tent in blind wrath. He ran towards the gates of the camp, hoping to catch Anant before he left. But at the late hour, the only men still standing were the guards, who watched Tarek’s madness in fear.

Anant was gone. Tarek had lost everything.

Chapter 54

A
NOTHER
T
RIYA WARRIOR HAD JOINED
J
ANDU’S CAMP IN THE
night. Keshan made an effort to greet each one. Partly it was because he knew what these men sacrificed by joining them. Partly it was an affinity for men like him, who had grown up in similar circumstances.

But mostly it was because he and Jandu needed their battle training. Since they had begun amassing troops in the forest and dispelling shartas, they worried that either Yudar or Darvad would send a unit into the forest to kill their deserters. Keshan knew the Yashvas were loyal to Jandu, but he doubted they would extend much effort to a scraggly collection of other human beings.

The newest Triya arrival was a young, handsome man with dark eyes and heavy shadows from not shaving the night before. He seemed familiar, but Keshan couldn’t place him. His armor gleamed in the morning light as he stood stiff at attention. A dozen or so soldiers followed him, all of them wore the insignia of the 8th unit of the Dragewan army. These were Tarek’s men. The thought of Tarek, combined with the insignia brought it back. This commander had accompanied Tarek to Afadi, and he’d been present at Keshan’s trial.

“Lord Keshan!” the warrior greeted him. He reached down and touched Keshan’s feet, an action which so shocked Keshan that he had to take a step back.

“You don’t have to do that,” Keshan said. “I’m Jegora now, as you well know.”

“Yes, my lord,” the commander said, his eyes glinting.

Keshan smiled back. He liked the man already. “You and your men are welcome. What is your name?”

“Anant, my lord,” the soldier said, returning to stiff attention. “I was commander of the 8th unit of Dragewan’s army, and these are soldiers loyal to me. We have come to fight alongside you.”

“You realize that those loyal to us will almost certainly lose their caste,” Keshan said. “If you would prefer to return to your homes, Prince Jandu and I will not stop you.”

Anant’s eyes blazed fiercely. “I have come to fight with you, my lord.”

“Please call me Keshan.”  Keshan looked out to the nearly one hundred men that sprawled through the makeshift camp. “Most of the soldiers here are Suya and Chaya, with little or no battle training. We need men like you to lead the others if we have to fight.”

Anant nodded. “I will help in any way I can, my lord. Only…”

“Yes?”

Anant drew close so that only Keshan would hear his voice.

“My lord, I humbly beg your forgiveness, but I cannot fight Lord Tarek Amia. I will do anything else, but I will not harm him.”

Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Anant swallowed. He kept his eyes focused just to the right of Keshan’s head. “We were close.”

“Close?”

Anant’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We were lovers. I asked him to join me here, but he would not break his oath to King Darvad.”

Keshan’s surprise made him momentarily speechless.

“Tarek knew you were deserting and he let you go?” Keshan had never imagined Tarek was like him. No wonder Tarek couldn’t stand by and listen to Darvad insulting Jandu. Sudden sadness filled Keshan. He and Tarek could have been so much closer as friends if they had known they had this in common.

 “I won’t ask you to do anything against your conscience,” Keshan finally said. “But if the Uru forces attack us, you may have to reconsider your decision.”

Anant let out his breath. “Thank you for your understanding.”

Keshan looked up at the predawn sky. Gold colored the few clouds. Any moment, the sounds of conches would fill the air and the fourth day of the war would begin.

Anant’s gaze followed Keshan’s, and he frowned as he looked at the battlefield, his grief plain.   

Keshan steadied him, a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About Tarek, I mean.”

Anant nodded, swallowing. “Thank you, my lord.”

“You should go to Warash, and he will help assign you and your men supplies and duties in the camp. He’s the Chaya over there in the gray uniform.” Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Unless you object to taking orders from a Chaya?”

Anant’s initial look of surprise was quickly smothered by a look of weird excitement. “Your army truly is making a new future.”

Anant bowed low, and then signaled his men to follow him.

Keshan smiled after them. As he made his way to his banyan tree perch, he wondered what Jandu would make of Anant, and the news of Tarek’s nature. And then he realized that it no longer mattered. Tarek had made his choice.

Chapter 55

M
ORNING LIGHT DID NOT DIFFUSE
T
AREK’S ANGER.
A
ND THE
news that Anant had taken twelve soldiers of the Dragewan army with him into the forest only exacerbated his rage. He never knew he could hold so much fury inside of him. He trembled with violence. He stared at the morning formation of the Paran army, wanting to slaughter them all.

Darvad smiled at Tarek that morning, and mumbled an apology for his harsh words. He then asked Tarek to take Mazar’s place as general of the Uru forces. Tarek barely looked at him. He could not let Darvad too close to him, when he was so full of rancor.

“Take position behind the Bandari,” Tarek said curtly. “I’ll lead the charge.” Without another word, Tarek jumped into his chariot and took his place at the front of the line. The stench overwhelmed all other senses. Body parts were identifiable in the mud only by the swarms of flies and the carrion birds.

The battle opened with the shrill of conches, and Tarek’s charioteer Satish charged recklessly towards the Parans. Mazar’s death inspired the Parans, and they pushed into the Uru line ferociously, chariots storming through and dispatching Uru foot soldiers in great numbers. Tarek drove them back. He shot arrow after arrow, striking his targets with cold precision.

A sharta rocked his chariot, earth exploding and burning all around him. Tarek wiped a spray of dirt from his eyes. He screamed at the Dragewan soldiers to follow the charge against the Paran line. The Parans held fast, and Tarek advanced slowly, hacking through the tight Paran formation, crushing men and spearing horses with his arrows.

Tarek bellowed for Satish to push through a gap in the Paran defense, leading one of two main thrusts into the line. Ishad, Firdaus’ son, led the other charge.

Up ahead, Tarek heard the Paran troops cheering Baram as his chariot rushed forward to meet Tarek’s. Tarek glared at Baram’s golden armor. Tarek wanted to kill Baram, for helping capture Mazar, for being Jandu’s brother. Baram became the focus of Tarek’s hatred. He felt almost cheated when a spear felled one of Baram’s horses. Baram leapt from his chariot as it flipped over. He raised his mace and continued to fight on the ground. He swung his mace, his stance wide, his face ferocious.

The Suya and Chaya foot soldiers who could not fight back against the bulk and rage of Baram’s attack broke before him. He plunged deep into the Uru line. It was clear that Baram had no idea of how isolated he had become from the rest of the Paran force. Dust and smoke from a sharta cast a haze over everything.

Without hesitating, Tarek closed his eyes and whispered the Korazsharta that Darvad had taught him long ago, words to conjure the magical Yashva spear that never missed its target. Darvad had given it to Tarek to kill Jandu, but Tarek needed to expel his rage now, and Baram was here.

The spear appeared in his hand, the shimmering bluish metal hot to the touch. It shone like a bolt of lightening in his hand.

Tossing the spear felt like nothing, like air, but the spear sang as it flew, a high-pitched wail that sounded like a newborn. It flew with tremendous speed, and struck Baram in the gut, tearing through his armor.

Baram howled in rage as he stumbled backwards. But he did not fall. He dropped his mace and used both hands to pull the long spear from his body. The moment he dropped it, the spear disappeared.

Baram screamed and gripped his wound, his face clenched in rage. He reached down and grabbed his mace.

“Coward! Who attacked me?” Baram shouted.

Blood poured from his wound, but he lifted his mace.

Tarek notched an arrow and took aim. It was against the rules of war to shoot Baram when he was armed only with a mace, but Tarek no longer cared. Fuck the rules of war. He loosed his string and the arrow shot straight through Baram’s arm. Baram howled, dropping his mace.

Tarek charged him. He shot Baram once more in the neck as his chariot swept past. Then Tarek leapt from the chariot and took up Baram’s fallen mace. His first blow sent Baram’s helmet flying. He swung again and Baram collapsed to the ground.

The blood rushed in Tarek’s ears, and the battlefield receded. He beat Baram on the ground with his own mace.

Baram moved slowly, trying to deflect the blows.

Tarek smashed Baram’s right knee cap. Baram cried out, an animal scream, wild with hatred and panic.

A part of Tarek told him to stop, to just kill him, end it, but his rage was still unsated, he needed Baram to suffer, and as Baram continued to weakly resist, his right fist clenched and waving, Tarek swung back the mace and smashed it down into Baram’s face.

The Uru soldiers around Tarek cheered. Tarek pulverized Baram’s face, crushing his large features to a pulp. His head caved in with sickening softness. Blood and brains sprayed the dismembered torso. Tarek struck again, and again, until nothing resembling a head was left, until his arm cramped. He dropped the mace, breathless.

There was no way Baram’s corpse could be properly burned now. It seemed as though hours had passed since the battle began, but the sun had barely moved in the sky. It was as if time had frozen for everyone else. Only this beating had lasted forever.

With Baram’s death, the Paran army’s morale crumbled. Tarek watched as his troops rallied to press their advantage. They cheered Tarek and pushed the Parans into retreat.

Conch shells blasted Tarek’s victory across the battlefield, but he remained where he was, coursing with adrenalin. He stepped from Baram’s body, sick with himself.

“My lord!” Satish stopped the horses beside him. “You must return to the chariot quickly! We are moving forward!”

Tarek forced his body to move. Satish clucked the horses into a canter even before Tarek was fully in the chariot. Tarek followed his units as they curved eastward, joining up with Ishad’s men to crush the remnants of the Paran line.

Tarek gripped the central pole of his chariot. He wished someone would shoot him. He begged God to let someone kill him, now, before he fell any lower.

But, despite his prayers, Satish successfully navigated Tarek back into the center of the Uru line. The real battle was only beginning. Tarek heard Darvad’s conch and looked over to see Darvad’s chariot rush towards him.

With the Bandari shielding them both, Darvad leapt from his chariot and into Tarek’s, talking quickly, laughing and hugging Tarek, celebrating Tarek’s gory triumph. All cruel words were apparently forgotten in the face of Tarek’s foul deed.
This is what it was to be Darvad’s friend
, Tarek thought. Rewards for those who rent their souls apart. Grace for only his sins.

The soldiers cried out Tarek’s name in triumph. But it brought no pride to Tarek anymore. All it brought was regret.

And now, with Anant gone, there was nothing Tarek could do to rein it in, so he let it thrive. Regret was all he had left.