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

“Her lack of an heir is seen as weakness.”

“Ah, I see. Well then, what do you know of the general?”

“When I was last in Jivita five years ago, William Navarese was a young captain with lofty ambitions. But he also is Rajinii’s closest blood relative, being the eldest son of her only brother, who died several years ago.”

“It sounds like Navarese has a rightful claim to the throne.”

“Perhaps he does. But if I understand Jivitan law correctly, the Privy Council has the authority to choose who will succeed the Sovereign when the king and queen have no living son or daughter.” Then Torg yawned deeply. “To be honest, I find these matters tedious.”

Laylah chuckled. “One more question, and then I promise to drop the subject. Burly said that there were two conflicting powers on the council. The general is one. Who is the other?”

“I could guess, but what would it matter? Whoever it is will be sure to put on a show today.”

“I take it you’re not looking forward to the assembly.”

“Quite right, my love. As my Vasi master used to say, ‘Wake me when it’s over.’ But I suppose I have no choice but to take all this nonsense seriously.”

After briefly refreshing themselves in their bedrooms at the palace, they finally arrived at the assemblage of the Privy Council. Torg was not surprised to find that the Throne Room was filled to capacity. A dozen anxious counselors sat in chairs arranged in a curved row facing the queen’s dais. When Torg and Laylah entered, a hush came over the gathering. But Elu rushed forward and hugged one of Torg’s legs, causing a spate of laughter that didn’t seem to bother the Svakaran one bit.

“The queen has anointed Elu as a member of her personal guard!” he said proudly.

Torg arched an eyebrow.

“Elu!” said Rajinii from her white-crystal throne. “I had hoped to make an official announcement during the assembly. Of course, I can’t blame you for blurting it out. We have been forced to wait an
excruciatingly
long time for our esteemed guests to arrive. Thank you so much,
Torgon
, for finally deigning to make an appearance.”

“Keeping you waiting was my pleasure,” Torg said, causing more laughter—though none from the queen.

“I, for one, am not amused,” came a loud voice from up front. A Jivitan officer, resplendent in a short doublet of white silk with a jeweled belt and green hose, faced Torg and Laylah. “When
guests
are invited to such important events, they should show good manners and arrive promptly. Either that, or mind their own business.”

This elicited several audible gasps. Deep silence followed.

Torg responded, his voice low but menacing. “After you’ve lived a thousand years, your definition of promptness will change, General Navarese.”

Navarese started to protest, but the queen interrupted. “Enough, general! You will all be given opportunities to speak, as is your right, but it must be done in orderly fashion.”

Navarese sat down in a huff.

“Come forward,
Torgon
 . . . two seats have been held for you up front,” Queen Rajinii said. “And Sir Elu, return to your post.”

The Svakaran trotted up the stairs and positioned himself on the queen’s right. On her left stood Manta, the Jivitan necromancer.

Torg and Laylah approached the base of the staircase, bowed, and sat down in two cushioned chairs. The sorceress was on Torg’s left, and the general sat on her other side. To Torg’s right was a barrel-chested clergyman who looked old enough to be Navarese’s grandfather. Torg had met him before.

The queen stood. All rose in unison. Then she pounded the tail of her staff on the marble floor three times. “Do all members of this Privy Council swear by the glory of the
One God
to be true and faithful servants to the queen?”

“We do,” they spoke in unison, except for Torg and Laylah.

“The meeting will hereby commence,” Rajinii said.

Everyone sat.

“Worthy counselors, the reasons for this unscheduled assemblage are known to all. Yesterday’s arrival of
King Torgon
was a boon to our cause. He and his companions endured grave perils during their journey to the White City. It would behoove us to take heed of whatever they can tell us of the workings of the enemy.”

There were several loud “yays” and “hear! hears!”

Without further prompting, Torg stood and strode to the second step. He bore no weapon—both Obhasa and the Silver Sword had been left with a Tugar outside the door—but he was formidable nonetheless, dressed all in black with blue eyes that smoldered. The room hushed.

“Thank you, one and all, for the privilege of your company,” he said in a deep, steady voice. “I wish I could proclaim that the news I bear will lighten your hearts, but it will not. In less than a year, I have journeyed more than five hundred leagues. During that time, I stood face to face with Bhayatupa the Great. I was imprisoned by Invictus—and escaped. I took part in the destruction of Duccarita. And I did battle with the druids in the heart of Dhutanga.”

Torg stopped for a moment to gauge their reactions. The general’s leg was tapping, but the large clergyman sat perfectly still. Most of the others bore worried expressions.

“Please continue,
Torgon
,” the queen said. “We await your tale with bated breath.”

“As you wish. I will start with Invictus and the ruined snow giant we now know as Mala. The army of Avici already has begun its march and will assail Nissaya, I believe, before the onset of the next full moon. I am sure you have heard rumors of the size and strength of the Chain Man’s army, but I have seen it firsthand and believe it to be greater than any army that has ever existed. In numbers alone, it is at least four times larger than your queen’s army.

“However, this in itself is not the major concern. The majority of Mala’s forces are composed of golden soldiers who appear to be no match for your proud white horsemen. But tens of thousands of monsters also march with Mala. If you met his army with all your strength, I do not believe you would prevail.”

This was too much for Navarese to bear. He leapt up and stomped over to Torg. “Who are
you
to decide whether we would win or lose? Do you command the Jivitans? Do you command our God?”

“General!” the queen said.

But this time, Navarese dared to override her. “With all due respect, your highness, I
demand
a response from this intruder.”

There was a collective gasp, then Torg said, “Only Invictus has the might to demand something from me. You should sit down, before I become angry.”

The large clergyman snorted, but Rajinii did not appreciate the humor. She stood up and held her staff high. “This is a sacred assembly, blessed by God Almighty,” she said to Torg and Navarese. “There will be no violence within these chambers—though I must say, general, you deserve to be threatened.”

Navarese’s normally pale cheeks had become as red as one of Bhayatupa’s scales, but he returned to his chair. Torg remained standing on the stair, but the air around him sizzled.

“If anyone else interrupts before our guest is finished,” Rajinii said, “he or she will be removed from this chamber.”

The queen returned to the throne. “
Torgon
, please continue.”

Torg nodded. “As I was saying, Mala’s army is strong. But my statement, which the general found so offensive, must be clarified. You could not defeat Mala’s army as it now exists, but Jivita will not meet Mala at full strength. The Chain Man first must deal with Nissaya. At the least, there he will be weakened. And then he will have to march another hundred leagues to meet you on the Green Plains. Your true hope lies with how serious of a blow the black knights deal to your enemy.”

“These are wise words,
Torgon
, but you have said nothing we haven’t already surmised,” Rajinii countered. “We must learn what you know of the druids. Like Mala, we also will have to defeat a powerful enemy before we encounter the next one.”

Torg took another step toward the throne and spoke directly to the queen. “I have seen the druids—from the ground and the sky. They are at least twice your number, and the queen who drives them is angrier and more powerful than her predecessor. Plus, they have bred a special form of druid that appears larger and more dangerous than usual. Jivita will be hard-pressed, even if the enemy from Dhutanga is the
only
one you face.”

To Torg’s surprise, Laylah raised her hand. All eyes turned to her.

“Yes?” Rajinii purred.

The sorceress stood. In her bedroom at the palace she had changed her clothing and now wore a Tugarian warrior outfit: black jacket and breeches. It took Torg’s breath away.

“I apologize if I have broken protocol by interrupting. But there is something that I believe needs be said before anyone else continues.”

The large clergyman nodded vigorously, as if clairvoyantly hearing Laylah’s next words.

“And what might that be, dear?” the queen said.

“Mala’s army and even the druids are perilous enemies, no doubt,” Laylah said. “But neither is as deadly as my brother.”

Navarese stood and bowed to the queen. “May I speak now, your highness?”

Rajinii nodded. Then the general pointed to the clergyman. “It is obvious she has conversed with Bernard.”

Torg started to intervene, but Laylah waved him off. “Sir! I do not know the name or the man,” she said to Navarese. “What I have to say has nothing to do with schemes or intrigue. Invictus is my
brother
! And I was his prisoner for more than seventy years. I daresay I know him better than you. Compared to Invictus, your other enemies are trifles. What does it matter if you defeat the druids and then Mala, if my brother strolls in afterward and destroys us all?”

As if on cue, the clergyman stood. “For the sake of our esteemed guests, allow me to introduce myself. Proud lady,” he said, nodding to Laylah, “and mighty warriors,” he added, gesturing to Torg and Elu, “my name is indeed Bernard . . .
Archbishop
Bernard . . . and I have been preaching an almost identical warning for more than a year, much to the chagrin of my rivals on the council. Perhaps now my words will be given more credence.”

“No single being can stand against Jivita,” interrupted the general, his voice crude when compared to the wizened clergyman’s. “I believe even Invictus can be defeated, if we are smart enough and bold enough. I fear one hundred thousand druids far more than a single man. And more so, I fear the dragon. The beast’s name has been mentioned, but we have not yet discussed the danger he represents.”

“Sir!” Laylah repeated. “I stood within a stone’s throw of the dragon as he was dragged through the streets of Avici. Invictus bested Bhayatupa as easily as a man of your stature could best a boy. Anyone who fears the dragon more than the sorcerer is deluded. In terms of puissance, Invictus is beyond your most dreadful nightmares. If your goal is to ensure the survival of Jivita, then you had better give the bulk of your consideration to how you might defeat the Sun God.”

“Do you hear her, your highness?” Bernard said to Rajinii. “Have I not said these exact words to you on many occasions?”

Rajinii rose from her throne and leaned against her staff. Suddenly she looked old and weary. Torg felt sorry for her.

“I hear her . . . and you,” the queen said to Bernard. “It is not your fear of Invictus that I disdain. Rather, it is your advice on how to counter him.”

Bernard stepped forward and threw himself at Torg’s feet, in a gesture of calculated drama. “
Lord Torgon
,” he said breathlessly, “the wisdom behind your bold sacrifice at Dibbu-Loka was not lost on me. You set in motion powers that are beyond us . . . and beyond even the horrendous evil that reigns over Avici. However, I would suggest—without intending any offense to one as courageous as you—that you have not comprehended the full extent of your selflessness. Your brave act will not go unrewarded, but fate or karma or whatever the Tugars choose to call it will have little to do with it. Your reward will come from
Ekadeva
, the living god! Even Invictus pales in comparison to He Who Is Almighty.”

Navarese joined Bernard on the stairs, focusing his full attention on Torg.