Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (8 page)

ON THE EIGHTH day since the beginning of his march to Nissaya, the leader of Invictus’ army stood in the middle of the road called Iddhi-Pada and gazed toward the Mahaggata Mountains. Something disturbed Mala, as if a great event were about to transpire—and then he felt the ground tremble subtly beneath his bare feet. Soon after, his keen eyes discerned a cloud of dust far to the west.

Augustus, the newborn soldier who had replaced Lucius the firstborn as Mala’s subordinate, rode alongside his leader and stared toward the mountains. Unlike Mala, the newborn did not possess vision capable of seeing the smoky debris more than forty leagues away.

“My lord,” Augustus said. “What troubles you? Should I send scouts to investigate?”

“Huh? What? No . . .
no
! Don’t be stupid.”

“I apologize, my lord. I meant no offense.”

“
I apologize, my lord. I meant no offense
. What an ass-kisser you are! In some ways I preferred Lucius. At least he had a
little
fight in him.”

Augustus lowered his head, knowing better than to say anything that might anger Mala further. “Yes, my lord,” he said, and rode back to his original position.

The Kojin named Harīti came over next. She obviously was enamored of Mala, and he found her attractive as well. Nothing had happened yet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. A woman could do a lot with six hands!

The Kojin was incapable of verbal enunciation, but she psychically pressed her thoughts into his mind.

“You saw it too?” Mala said. “What was it?”

The Kojin answered him silently.

“There hasn’t been a volcano that powerful in a long time,” Mala responded. “No, I’m guessing something else. Is it possible our king found the flea-bitten dragon?”

Another response.

Mala guffawed.

“Such language, Harīti! You’re making me blush.”

Then he pounded Vikubbati’s tail on the stone roadway. Golden energy exploded from the trident’s tines, launching a trio of lightning bolts skyward. En masse, the golden soldiers quivered—as if sensing something ominous in the trident’s vast power. The ponderous march continued.

Well before dark, Mala signaled a halt. His army was moving slower than an old man on a cane, less than four leagues a day. Though it was huge—stretching more than five leagues from front to back—it still was capable of traversing at least eight leagues a day with little harm to morale. At this rate, the scant provisions allocated to the newborns would be depleted by the time they reached Nissaya. A starving army could not assail a fortress of such magnitude. And it was certain that the damnable black knights hadn’t left much of value outside their walls.

But Mala wasn’t concerned. There would be plenty of food
within
the walls.

During one of Augustus’ more daring moments, the newborn general had discussed the situation with Mala. “What if the Nissayans burn their provisions before we breach the third bulwark?”

“Will they burn themselves?”

Augustus had cringed. “There will be plenty for the monsters to eat. But what of the golden soldiers? We are mere men, after all.”

Mala had only laughed.

Now he sat near an angry fire fueled by the torn-down buildings of an abandoned village. Suddenly the blaze increased tenfold. Out of the gloom of dusk strode Invictus.

“Greetings, my pet.”

“My king!” Mala said, leaping to his feet. Then his voice grew puzzled. “Have you come to join us?”

“No . . . no. That would not do. We must stick to our plan. But I’ve brought you another gift! An unexpected one.” The sorcerer unfolded the fingers of his right hand. Lying in his palm was a crimson ring large enough to fit around an ordinary man’s wrist but just the right size for the middle finger of Mala’s left hand.

“My king . . . it is
beautiful
.”

“Yes, it is. And
very
powerful. The flesh, blood, and magic of a great dragon are woven into the band. I have named it Carūūl. Along with Vikubbati, it will serve you well in the days to come.”

“Thank you, my king. I am honored.”

“Yes, you are.”

Then Invictus stepped away. “Night approaches. I return to Avici now.”

After the sorcerer was gone, Mala stared at the ring for a long time. Then he slid it onto his finger. It burned like his chain, but he didn’t care. It was a perfect fit.

ON THE TENTH day of the march, Mala’s army reached the northern fringe of Java. General Augustus Pontius rode slowly along on his destrier, purposely remaining at least a stone’s throw (by a troll) away from the Chain Man. Why Mala had ordered such a sluggish pace was beyond Augustus’ comprehension, but it was taking its toll on his golden soldiers, wearing them out even more than a frantic march would have. To make matters worse, a damnable heat followed their every step, clinging to their backs like a cloak of fire.

The commander of the Premier First Legion rode beside Augustus. Though Mala was far ahead and blabbering to no one in particular, the commander still felt the need to whisper.

“General Augustus, the provisions are unfairly dispersed. The monsters are being given favorable treatment—and even our water is rationed. The newborns grow weak with hunger and thirst—for no reason. It is as if Mala considers
us
the enemy. Is there nothing you can do?”

“I’m as troubled as you, commander. But since the march began, Mala has been even more difficult than usual. I spoke with him about this very subject a couple of days ago, and he claimed there will be an abundance of food for all of us once Nissaya falls. As for my being able to do anything, don’t make me laugh. We all know he favors the Kojins and the rest of the monsters over any of the newborns.”

“Our legions deserve better than this.”

“I will speak to him again, commander. But be prepared to take my place. It wouldn’t surprise me if Mala bit off my head, helm and all.”

“I don’t envy you, Augustus. But right now, I don’t envy any of us. We are being treated like slaves.”

“That’s exactly what we are.”

ON THE TWELFTH day of the march, Mala had traveled more than six leagues into Java. For the next twenty-plus leagues, Iddhi-Pada, the ancient road, would become little more than a primitive path less than twenty paces wide. This funneling effect would slow his army further, and it would take at least twelve more days for the entire force to pass through the Dark Forest.

Though he had been inside Java only a few times, Mala had grown to love its interior; beneath the gnarled canopy, it always was as dark as night. And there were all kinds of creepy-crawly creatures that existed nowhere else in the world. Some of them were extremely dangerous, but not to Mala. There were snakes as thick as trees that he found especially delicious; and bats with wingspans as broad as dracools that also were luscious. The army was scaring most everything away with its racket, but Mala was on alert just in case something tasty came near enough for him to throttle.

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.”

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.”

“I visited Elu last night,” she said matter-of-factly.

(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.