Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (31 page)

Tāseti allowed herself a brief nap.

ON THE SAME morning that Mala’s army arrived at Nissaya, and the white horsemen emerged from the northern gate of Jivita, Sister Tathagata came within sight of Anna. A short time before dawn, three Tugarian scouts confronted her about a league from where the outer border of the Simōōn should have begun, and she had killed and devoured all of them. Now she stood thirty-five cubits tall and weighed more than three hundred stones, larger and more powerful than the pair of three-headed giants that assailed Nissaya. Her physical strength rivaled that of a great dragon, but it paled in comparison to her demonic sorcery. More
undines
now raged within her flesh than existed in the entire Realm of the Undead. Her breath was black as ash and wrought blindness upon all it touched, including the Tugars, who were resistant to almost any other form of injury.

If the Simōōn had been in place, even Tathagata could not have passed through it. But it now was nonexistent. Dvipa had called a halt to its renewal in anticipation of the arrival of Rati and the noble ones. The Asēkha had known nothing about the giant that approached the outer borders of the Tent City. Had he been aware, he might have rebuilt the Simōōn or ordered a retreat. Then again, maybe not. It wasn’t in the Tugars’ nature to flee.

The current version of Anna had been constructed within and around an oasis named Vimānal. During normal times, it was home to twenty-thousand pure-bred Tugars, about half of whom had attained the rank of warrior, and five thousand non-Tugars who freely worked as laborers. But now, most of the warriors were in Nissaya and Jivita, leaving the city uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Anna was called the Tent City for obvious reasons. It was composed almost entirely of tents, some small enough to sleep just a single warrior, others large enough to house fifty score for banquets and gatherings. Regardless of size, all the tents could be broken down by the nomadic Tugars and transported from oasis to oasis.

In her former state, Sister Tathagata had visited Anna several times. The ingenuity of the Tugars had amazed her. In addition to a variety of sizes, the tents came in several shapes: square, rectangular, conical, and pyramidal. Some were half shelters, open to the elements; others windowed wall tents with lightweight furniture. There even were tents that contained food and wine, ovens and forges, spinning wheels and looms. In terms of sheer size, it was no match for Avici; in opulence, it paled before Jivita; in grandeur, it was miniature compared to Nissaya. But in the minds of the Tugars and other inhabitants of the Tent City, simplicity was akin to freedom, and sleeping beneath the stars as joyful as breathing.

At the first light of dawn, the giant stood at the outer border of the oasis. Already, the Tugars were massing to greet her, including Dvipa, more than two score Vasi masters, and five hundred warriors. Fifteen thousand others—non-warriors and non-Tugars—also stood ready. Tathagata waved her arms defiantly and let out a screech. Unafraid of challenge, the Tugars shouted back.

FROM A LEAGUE away, Tāseti heard all of this and scrambled forward, finally abandoning Nimm and the woman to whatever be their fate.

Rage and desperation fueled her. Tāseti ran and ran.Soon after, she heard the screams that froze her heart.

THOUGH IT WOULD have been a lot of fun to watch the giant destroy Anna, Vedana had bigger fish to fry, as one of the horrid Vasi masters would have worded it. Preordained by Peta, Vedana had played the role of guide to its fullest, and now she intended to return to the ghost-child and Rathburt to make sure the two weren’t misbehaving. If her ultimate plan were to succeed, she needed the slump-shouldered Death-Knower to perform one final task.

The moth exited Tathagata’s ear and flew into the air, swerving just in time to avoid a metal bead one of the Tugar warriors had hurled into the sky. The bead had not been intended for her, of course.
It’s as tall as a tree
, she wanted to scream,
and you still can’t hit it
?
I thought you Tugars were good.

Then she flew high into the air, soared westward, and vanished into a tiny black hole in the firmament.

Vedana spent a brief time in the Realm of the Undead. At first
undines
surrounded her, begging to be released into the Realm of Life so that they could achieve the same glory as their brothers and sisters that swarmed inside Tathagata. Their enthusiasm amused her, but she was in too much of a hurry to deal with their requests.

“Another time,” she told them.

“When? When? When? When? When? When? When? When?”

“Soon.”

“How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon?”

“When I say, and not before!” she shouted, causing the
undines
to scatter. Invictus was the most powerful of all, but Vedana still reigned supreme in her realm. And if she had her way, her grandson would be vanquished, and she would rule all places. After all, Peta had foreseen it.

Before she could leave the Realm of the Undead and return to Dhutanga to give Peta a good tongue-lashing, several hundred worm-like demons engulfed her, some of which were powerful enough to cause trouble, if not properly humored. Though she hated to take time out of her busy schedule, she decided this was necessary. If any of them became angry at her and reported her whereabouts to Invictus, it could be dangerous. She already was having enough problems with Uraga, the half boar-half man who had taken up with Mala’s army and was becoming too big for his breeches. The fifty-score demons that rode with Uraga also bore watching. None had the strength—even combined—to match her, but a lady couldn’t be too cautious in these modern times, when betrayal was just around the corner.

“What do you want?” she said to them, curious as to which of them would have the fortitude to speak first.

“Mother,” came a timid voice. Vedana recognized it as Jeguccha, one of her original daughters who had been born before the great dragons entered the world. “We have concerns.”

“Speak!”

“Your . . .
behavior
 . . . is annoying
Suriya
(the Sun God). As of yet, he has left us alone. But what might he do if he turns his attention our way?”

“Am I to assume that you do not fear what
I
might do if you make
me
angry?”

In the deep darkness, she heard murmuring. It was absurdly easy for Vedana to sense their apprehension. Yet she was surprised when Jeguccha did not immediately back down.

“We fear you, Mother. And love you. That is not at issue. Rather, we are concerned about our survival. No one doubts your strength. But neither do we underestimate the might of your creation. Only the Sun God can free us from our dark prison. But only Invictus can destroy the gates of our prison—with us forever trapped inside.”

“What would you have me do?” Vedana said, sincerely curious of their intentions.

Another demon came forward. This one Vedana recognized as Uraga, his consciousness temporarily returned from the battlefield while his physically incarnated body stood motionless on the plains outside Nissaya.

“We would have you lay low,” he said, his relationship with Mala obviously emboldening him. “Stop your flitting about and causing so much trouble. Once the Chain Man wins these silly wars, he and Invictus will be in excellent moods. Perhaps then we can
negotiate
our freedom.”

“And if I do not stop my ‘flitting about’?”

Silence.

Broken, finally, by Vedana herself.

“I will consider your words, children. In the meantime, consider mine. Indeed,
Suriya
has the power to destroy the gates of our realm. But I too have power. I created all of you. And I can destroy you. Do not doubt it.”

“Please, Mother, do not be offended . . .”

“Silence!” Vedana said. “You have made me angry enough, as is—and you, Uraga, most of all.”

Outside the walls of Nissaya, as the army of Mala was just then arriving, the half boar-half man collapsed. Few paid heed to his demise, though one of the three-headed giants saw his crumpled form and made a quick meal of the incarnated remains before his twin had time to notice. For some reason, they were less filling than the giant had expected.

AT NOON OF the same day that Mala’s army arrived at Nissaya, Bhayatupa lay on the rooftop of Uccheda, eyes rarely blinking, face expressionless. Like most large reptiles, dragons were proficient at staying still and doing nothing, and it worked to Bhayatupa’s advantage that this extreme state of immobility created the impression of stupidity. Besides, as long as he didn’t move, the chain that looped around his neck stayed relatively cool.

Though his body was motionless, his boulder-sized mind was anything but. Bhayatupa spent every available moment reminiscing about the countless occurrences of his ancient lifetime—his spectacular birth on the peak of a Mahaggatan mountain; his long reign as the greatest of all dragons; his current, humiliating predicament. It was ironic that Invictus appeared to believe that Bhayatupa’s memories had been erased, when in fact no living creature could recall so much of its past so vividly. As the dragon pored over every minute detail, searching for anything that might give him an edge over the sorcerer, he alternately was filled with joy and sorrow, comfort and anguish.

When he remembered Carūūldassana, his pain was especially intense. After Sankhaya had murdered their son Mūlaka, Bhayatupa’s rage had known no bounds. Finally it had driven the beautiful female into hiding out of fear for her own existence. It wasn’t until now, as prisoner of Invictus, that Bhayatupa recognized the folly of his ways. He had loved his son as much as himself, but he had loved his mate more than either. If this revelation had occurred thirty millennia ago, he might still have known joy. When he looked at it that way, he wondered if eternal life was worth the pursuit.

“
Bhayatupa amarattam tanhiiyati
(Bhayatupa craves eternal existence),” he remembered saying to the Death-Knower the first time he had seen him near the southern bridge of Avici.

And the wizard’s softly whispered response, heard only by the dragon, had been: “
Adhigatam idam sakkoti eva nissaya passannacittam
. (Only through purity of spirit can this be achieved.)”

Those words had disturbed Bhayatupa then, and he remained disturbed now. Somehow they held the most crucial of clues, but he could not comprehend what it might be.

When Invictus let out a shout, Bhayatupa was caught unawares, and it took every fiber of his will not to flinch.

Then the sorcerer laughed. “You’re worse off than Mala,” he said contemptuously. “At least he has some personality.”

Rage swelled in Bhayatupa’s heart, but he did not blink.

“Still,” the sorcerer continued, “you may yet prove useful. At least you can carry me around faster than a dracool, and Sampatis are too unpredictable.”

Just then, a female dracool came up beside Invictus and stood next to him, eyeing Bhayatupa warily.

“What do you think, Iriz?” Invictus said with boyish mischief. “The great Bhayatupa doesn’t amount to much anymore, does he?”

More rage.

“I don’t trust him, my liege,” Iriz said. “Are you certain he isn’t pretending?”

The rage was replaced by the beginnings of alarm.

“I saw grandmother place the spell with my own eyes and heard her with my own ears,” Invictus said. “It was performed flawlessly, with exquisite timing.”

“I know a way to test him, my liege. If he is truly ruined, he will not react.”

“
Interesting
,” Invictus said. “Perform your test, then. But do not seriously harm him. I am in need of his services. I plan on doing some sight-seeing.”

If Iriz was amused, she didn’t show it. Though she was twice the size of Invictus, she was many times dwarfed by a great dragon. Bhayatupa watched her waddle cautiously over to his left side. Guessing her intention, he again was filled with alarm. His scales were virtually impregnable, but the flesh beneath the scales, especially closest to the heart, was vulnerable. When dracools attacked dragons in large numbers, they often attempted to pry back the scales, biting and clawing until the heart was exposed. Even the slightest cut was hideously painful.

In a show of disrespect, Iriz spewed acidic liquid onto the scales above Bhayatupa’s breast. The sputum did little physical damage but a great deal of emotional harm. Once again, it took supreme discipline for Bhayatupa not to respond. It would be so easy to bite the dracool in half before Invictus could stop him. But this would accomplish little. So Bhayatupa lay still.

With powerful talons, the dracool grasped the outer edge of a scale, which was as broad as she was tall, and pried it outward. At first Bhayatupa felt little discomfort, other than more humiliation. A gust of warm fragrance blew out from beneath the scale and wafted all the way to where Invictus stood. The sorcerer breathed deeply and sighed. Its allure affected even him.

Iriz pried the scale farther back, until she could easily reach a patch of the tender flesh. “Do you wish to watch?” she said to Invictus.

The sorcerer strolled forward, his expression a mixture of curiosity and impatience. “Watch what?”

“Behold.”

Iriz drew her claw along the flesh, tearing into it as easily as she might a human abdomen. Crimson blood surged out, pooled along the cut, and then oozed onto the roof of Uccheda, sizzling on the stone. Bhayatupa’s pain rivaled the first moments of the magical chain, and he became convinced he could not tolerate it. But somehow he did not attack or attempt to defend himself.

“Stop!” the sorcerer ordered. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Iriz backed away and bowed low. “The dragon has passed the test, my liege. Bhayatupa is indeed ruined. His pride could not have tolerated this, otherwise.”

The sorcerer cauterized the cut with yellow fire. This hurt Bhayatupa even worse than the dracool’s claw. But still he bore it.

“Go away,” Invictus said petulantly. “I’m through with you now. Be grateful that I don’t punish you.”

“Yes, my liege . . . I am indeed grateful.” And she leapt into the sky and flew toward the mountains as fast as her wings could carry her.

Invictus snorted. Then he turned to Bhayatupa and nestled the scale back into place. “Let’s see how much you remember,” the sorcerer said, before climbing onto the dragon’s neck and clamping onto the base of the chain with his inner thighs. Instantly, the chain glowed yellow-hot.

“Fly!” Invictus shouted. “To Duccarita! Can you find the way?”

Bhayatupa did as he was told, springing off the rooftop of Uccheda and soaring westward faster than any living being had ever flown before.
How stupid should I pretend to be?
Bhayatupa mused.
This is a game that has no rules.
There’s a difference between remembering nothing of your life and nothing of your surroundings, isn’t there
? He hoped that Invictus would think so.

They reached the City of Thieves—or what remained of it—in the late afternoon. Though Bhayatupa did not show it, the extent of the destruction amazed him. The last time he had been there, Duccarita had been a thriving, though also grotesque, metropolis. He had battled the Faerie in the night sky, scorching her and sending her to ruin, though not before experiencing the agony of her green magic. In the daylight almost three weeks later, Duccarita was a smoldering husk.

“There,” Invictus said, pointing to an area more devastated than any other. “Take me there.”

Bhayatupa obeyed, finally perching on a pile of scorched and twisted timber. The sorcerer leapt off his neck and floated down onto the ragged surface.

“Stay,” he said. Then he disappeared into the debris.

An urge to escape surged over Bhayatupa. If he were to spring into the sky and fly along the broken rooftops, not even Invictus would be quick enough to emerge from the rubble and strike him down. Perhaps the sorcerer knew this too and saw it as one final test. But Bhayatupa believed that Invictus would just use the chain to render him helpless and then find him again, like a viper tracking prey paralyzed by venom. As precarious as it was, he was better off in this new situation, at least for the time being. So he sat and waited like a loyal dog.

Invictus was gone for half a bell. When he finally emerged, he held a gooey substance in his hands that resembled thick, white glue. The sorcerer appeared unsettled, and he mumbled words that even Bhayatupa could not understand. Finally he cast the strange substance aside, cursing all the while.

“Do they think the destruction of the
Mahanta pEpa
will stop me?” he shouted. “Now that I’ve seen it for myself, it’s annoying, I have to admit. But it’s too little too late. The damage has already been done.”

The sorcerer climbed onto Bhayatupa’s neck. Again the chain glowed in response.

“To Jivita!”

Bhayatupa launched into the sky, swept along the rooftops, and soared up and over the natural stone bulwark that partially encircled the ruined city. A short time later, the unusual pair flew over Dhutanga, its spring canopy a magnificent green. Bhayatupa found Cariya and followed its course.

As darkness stole the day, Bhayatupa wondered how the sorcerer would react to the lack of light. Would it lessen him to the point of vulnerability? But his answer came quickly—and painfully. When dusk arrived, Invictus simply leaned down and gripped the magical chain with his arms, causing it to roar to life and cast a staggering array of colors. As long as he held it close, the sorcerer would not weaken.

Though he did it subtly, the dragon groaned.

It was near midnight when they passed the southern border of Dhutanga. With eyes as keen as any living being’s, Bhayatupa could see the druids massing at the forest’s edge, and just three leagues away, the great host of Jivita awaiting its doom. The size of both armies impressed him.

“Who do you think will win?” Invictus shouted into the wind.

Bhayatupa, of course, did not answer.

“Sorry, I forgot . . . you’re stupid now. Well, let me tell you what I think. The Jivitans will prevail, but not without heavy losses, which will make it all the easier for Mala, when he comes this way.”

“No matter what happens in the end,” Bhayatupa thought, “I will kill Mala, if someone else doesn’t beat me to it.”

“I want to give them all a little thrill,” the sorcerer said.

Bhayatupa kept circling. The comment baffled him but he did his best to maintain a neutral expression.

“Down!” Invictus shouted. “Let’s show the silly white horsemen what we’re made of.”

The dragon dipped his left wing and veered sharply, leveling out just a few cubits above the Jivitans’ heads. As expected, Bhayatupa could hear shouts and cries and horses bolting. But what happened next was unexpected. With the slightest of effort, Invictus caused the chain that encircled Bhayatupa’s neck to burst into multicolored flame. The ensuing pain caused Bhayatupa to buck in the air like a frightened stallion, and he let out a howl as loud as any living being had ever issued. Jivita’s precisely arranged army was thrown into chaos.

“Up!” Invictus ordered, cackling all the while.

When Bhayatupa responded, the agony diminished to tolerable levels, though he continued to wail, like a child whose finger was no longer in the fire but still bore lingering pain. Despite his anguish, he remained lucid enough to catch a glimpse of the Death-Knower, seeing him for the first time since Avici. How he desired to soar down and sweep him away to some distant place, so that the two of them could discuss
Tanhiiyati
, the insatiable craving for eternal existence.

“To the fortress!” the sorcerer said, interrupting Bhayatupa’s tortured reverie.

It was just past dawn when Nissaya came into view, a black splotch in a sea of gray. Again, what Bhayatupa saw impressed him. The fields outside the fortress swarmed with the largest single ground army he had ever seen, surpassing even the mighty hosts that had done his bidding during Supanna-Sangaamaani (the Dragon Wars).