Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (44 page)

Gruugash led the charge through the tunnel, howling as loud as any of the others. The Chain Man was on his knees, clinging to Vikubbati for support, when they struck him a second time. Few beings on Triken could have survived such an accumulation of power. Mala was thrown back again, as if the winds of a hurricane had battered him, but now the other monsters were rushing to their leader’s side. They did not love the Chain Man, but they feared him greatly, and more so his master.

Gruugash felt more than heard a disturbance at their rear. The Kojin that had fallen into the moat had pulled itself out, its own magical sheath too strong to be punctured by mere rocks, no matter how sharp. Now the beast named Harīti, who loved Mala more than any other, attacked the homeless people from behind, smashing dozens of them with her massive fists. The three other Kojins joined her. The witches had rallied too, striking vicious blows with their staffs. And almost forty thousand monsters rushed toward them from the plain, braving arrows and trebuchet fire from Ott.

The Pabbajja were forced to fight not just Mala but countless others. Within his mind, Gruugash screamed at his people to ignore the onslaught and make one final attempt to destroy the Chain Man, but it was too late. The homeless people were whelmed and swept away, and though they killed as many as they lost, in the end it was no matter. Not even the defenders of Nissaya had been able to aid them, being trapped on the other side of their own moat.

Soon after defeating the Pabbajja, the monsters again withdrew out of range of arrow and trebuchet.

As Gruugash lay dying, a strange quiet arose.

All this, and it was not even dusk.

EVEN BEFORE KUSALA gave the order, Churikā lowered a rope ladder and scrambled down the steep side of Ott. Against powerful monsters, opportunities such as this were rare. Havoc needed to be wreaked—fast!

Before the Pabbajja sabotaged the shield, fewer than a dozen monsters had reached the walkway at the exterior base of Ott. Churikā was the first defender down, and she went to work with typical Asēkha precision. While a Mogol, astride a black mountain wolf, struggled to calm his mount, Churikā took out the wolf and warrior with one thrust, punching her
uttara
through the beast’s neck and into the Mogol’s belly. Then the Asēkha withdrew the blade and cast them both into the moat.

A Warlish witch and a pair of hag servants had also made it across. When they saw Churikā, they snarled and charged. But now several other Asēkhas were by her side, including the recently ascended Dalhapa. The hags were slaughtered, and Churikā beheaded the witch, though a splotch of acidic blood splashed on her black jacket between her breasts, burning away the fabric and exposing her cleavage.

In a short time, only a lone Duccaritan remained on the walkway, and he was escorted up the wall on a rope ladder. The pirate did not resist, seeming almost relieved to become their prisoner. Churikā was amazed that, despite all the surrounding madness, the man seemed to be leering at the exposed portions of her breasts.

Meanwhile, the monsters that had fallen into the moat continued to thrash and shriek. The trolls were especially hideous, shredded and bloodied but too stubborn to die. The druids also were brutally slashed, humming their teeth-chattering song. The witches and a lone demon, protected by sheaths of magic, struggled through the foaming madness toward the walkway at Balak’s base. Churikā unleashed her sling and peppered them, one by one. A metal bead penetrated the base of a witch’s neck, piercing the gristle. The witch exploded, gushing fetid fumes.

But they could not kill them all. The Kojin escaped from the moat, along with most of the witches and the demon. Eventually Churikā, the other Tugars, and the black knights were ordered back to the battlement.

Soon after, the rope ladders were withdrawn.

YAMA-UTU WATCHED the Pabbajja strike Mala with the combined force of their magic, blowing his brother’s body through the entrance of Balak. It was obvious that this stunned Mala. Was this Utu’s chance? He could leap down upon the deserted battlement, then pounce on the Chain Man and strangle him, ending Yama-Deva’s long suffering.

But if he were looking for excuses, he had plenty: The Pabbajja might destroy Mala on their own; and even if Utu did attack, the other monsters would reach him before he could finish the job. Besides, Nissaya still needed his strength. But he knew all these excuses were hollow; now was as good a time as any. Yet he could not bring himself to do it. Not yet. Kusala had asked him several times if he had changed his mind. The true answer, which he had not revealed, was twofold: He planned to confront Mala, but not in the way he had previously envisioned. Rather than slay his brother, Utu hoped to heal him.

And so, he waited. When he and Mala finally met, when their bodies finally touched, Utu wanted the opportunity to embrace his brother and make him whole.

The ring given to him by Henepola made it possible.In front of his eyes, the Pabbajja were overwhelmed. Utu felt grief over their deaths but also a bizarre relief. If the homeless people had managed to defeat Mala, then Yama-Deva would have been lost forever. Yama-Utu could not bear the thought. How he longed to be with his brother again. To talk with him. Sing with him. Admire the glorious beauty of the mountain peaks together. With Yama-Deva returned to Okkanti, the
Himamahaakaayos
would be whole—and Bhari would be so proud. “You were right,” she would say, “to leave us for a time. It took one wanderer to rescue another.”

Utu could sense Kusala’s eyes on him. The chieftain was not the Death-Knower’s equal, but he was clever.

“The Pabbajja have fallen,” said Kusala, his voice just loud enough to be heard by Utu above the clamor of battle. “But Mala has not.”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

The chieftain arched an eyebrow. “As you say.”

Soon after, a dread silence ensued. Thousands of the Pabbajja lay dead, their bodies mangled and tridents broken. The Kojins killed several hundred, and the witches and remaining trolls also wreaked terrible damage. Many monsters perished, as well: more than a thousand Mogols and wolves; at least five hundred wild men; and hundreds of ghouls, ogres, and vampires. However, in the end, the Pabbajja had been outnumbered and had received no aid.

Once the Asēkhas brought their lone prisoner onto the battlement, the Duccaritan pirate immediately was taken to the king. Utu listened intently.

“I am King Henepola X, sovereign of Nissaya. What is your name?”

The pirate blinked, as if surprised to have not yet been beaten or tortured. “I am called Tew, your lordship. Maynard Tew.”

“I have a question for you, Maynard Tew.”

“I will answer all your questions, your lordship!”

“Just one will do. Tell us why Mala tortures the golden soldiers. What devilry is this?”

Tew’s eyes sprang open. “Your lordship, you will believe I am lying to you, but I promise I’m not. Of all the questions you could have asked, this is the only one I can’t answer. I don’t know why the Chain Man is doing this thing. It’s pure crazy! But nobody can tell Master Mala what to do. If you just look at him wrong, he’ll whack off your head.”

With a speed that impressed even Utu, Churikā knelt in front of the pirate and placed the edge of her Tugarian dagger at the base of his throat. “Do you take us for fools? Answer the king’s question, or I will cut off your . . .” Then she moved the point of the dagger between his legs.

Tew’s face went red, but even then his eyes dared to stray to the warrior’s exposed cleavage. “I am not lying, mistress, I swear. Master Mala doesn’t trust nobody. He didn’t even tell the general, the guy he heaved over the wall.” He glanced up at Utu. “That was a good catch, by the way.” Then he returned his gaze to Churikā. “I don’t know why he’s doing it, mistress. Ya can cut me anywhere you like, but it won’t change my answer—not ’cause I’m loyal to Invictus, only ’cause I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you right now, no problem.”

“Stand!” Torg said to Churikā, with what sounded to Utu like annoyance. Then the wizard knelt down and placed the palm of a large hand on the pirate’s face. A blue-green glow enveloped Tew’s head and shoulders, and he momentarily went slack.

“Why are the newborns tortured?” the wizard whispered.

“I don’t know,” said the pirate, his voice monotone.

Torg rose and faced the others. “He could not have lied.”

Tew shook his head and seemed to regain most of his composure. Then Utu knelt down and positioned his massive face just a span from the pirate’s. “
I
have questions.”

Tew’s face went pale. “You . . . you . . . kinda look like him . . . like Master Mala . . .”

“Never mind that. Just listen. Does Deva . . . I mean, Mala . . . ever behave strangely?”

The pirate grunted, then managed a nervous chuckle. “Are you kidding?”

“Answer!”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Master Giant. If you ask me, Mala acts strange all the time.”

“Does he ever act
different
? Does he talk to himself? Does he ever act . . .
nice
?”

“He talks to himself . . . and to everyone else. But I have
never
seen him act nice.”

Utu grimaced, then stood, towering above them all. “This one is worthless,” he said to the others. “Do with him as you will.”

Then he stormed away.

IT TOOK UNTIL midnight for Mala to regain enough composure to renew the assault on Nissaya. The Pabbajja’s betrayal had been unforeseen. At no time had he been suspicious, and it enraged him. Mala felt like falling on his back and kicking his legs like a toddler throwing a tantrum. But that would be embarrassing, even to him.

Without the Pabbajja, it would be far more difficult to maintain the shield. Then again, that didn’t matter so much anymore. It soon would be time to enact the next phase of his plan, which finally included the newborns.

He had no reason to hold back. The assault on Balak had been purposely methodical, and he had hoped to breach the gate of Ott before unleashing his secret weapon. But the Pabbajja had messed things up. Now it was time to repair the damage.

Mala chose the most dangerous monsters to come with him: the four Kojins; six Warlish witches; a dozen Stone-Eaters; ten demons; and a score of others of undetermined breed, including a spider with a human head and a worm that walked on a thousand tiny legs. Last but not least was the remaining three-headed giant, thirty cubits tall and still enraged over the death of its sibling. This contingent, three score all told, was as powerful as an army of ten thousand ordinary men.

Beneath the crescent moon that would soon set in the west, the monsters passed through the shattered entrance of Balak and approached Ott. Thousands of arrows fell upon them, but such was their might that few were seriously harmed. Mala glared up at the dark-shrouded battlement of Ott and issued another challenge.

“Cast aside your weapons and open your gates—and I will be merciful,” Mala shouted, his voice booming throughout the fortress.

From above came a voice that sounded meek in comparison. “We will do neither,” the king said.

Mala growled. “Very well.” Then . . . “Behold!”

Gripping Vikubbati’s staff with both hands, Mala dipped the tines into the moat. The trident glowed, as did the ring Carūūl and the chain. Immediately the dark waters bubbled, and then boiled, casting off a foul-smelling stench. From the battlement of Ott came panicked screams. The moat became a hissing ring of crimson. Steam rose in a swirling crescendo, containing foul substances that burned eyes and flesh. There were more screams from above. Several bodies tumbled off the wall. The moat continued to broil.

After a time no water was left, all having evaporated to mist. It revealed the labyrinth of rock spikes, which glowed like molten spears. The three-headed giant howled, and the other monsters joined in.

But Mala wasn’t finished. Now he stepped back and raised the trident. Three stupendous beams of golden energy sprang from the tines and leapt into the sky, casting a light over the fortress that for a time was as bright as day. The beams merged and formed a broad circle that expanded far beyond the outer wall. Then a ringlet of power, writhing and crackling, fell from the sky—directly upon the newborn soldiers.