Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (12 page)

AFTER TORG HAD departed to join the war at Nissaya, Laylah had stood by herself on the western bank of Cariya through the rest of the night. Moments after the wizard had vanished, the crescent moon set in the west, leaving the sorceress feeling twice abandoned. Could life be any more miserable?

Then she chided herself. Of course it could. Freedom was vastly superior to its alternative. Though her heart was saddened, at least she was not Invictus’s prisoner
 . . .
yet.

Was it only a matter of time?

When dawn finally clawed out of its dark grave, Laylah was surprised to see that she had company. Ugga and Elu lay nearby, sleeping side-by-side without blankets on the lush grass. And farther back stood a dozen Tugars, as steadfast as statues. Had they been there all night? Laylah’s senses were acute, but her despair over Torg’s absence had dampened her ability to detect the presence of others. She loved the wizard more than she loved herself. Though his life was in terrible danger, his was a less cruel fate than the one she now was forced to endure. Fighting, at least, would distract his mind from the worry and loneliness.

An unexpected sound shattered her reverie. It took her a moment to realize that Ugga had emitted a magnificent fart in his sleep. The Tugarian warriors, ever composed, couldn’t help but laugh. Even Laylah chuckled. As if in response, the crossbreed sat up and shook his head.

“Did I just
 . . .
?” Then he added, “I is
sorry.
”

Despite her amusement, Laylah was touched by the crossbreed’s heartfelt apology. Losing Bard had continued to torment Ugga, yet he already seemed to be rebounding from the anguish—at least for brief stretches.

When Elu woke, he also was disoriented. “Where is Elu?” he muttered. Then he saw Laylah and sprang to his feet with an impressive surge of energy. “Are you all right, pretty lady? Elu is worried about you. Last night, you were crying. It made Elu cry too.”

Next, a male Tugarian warrior came forward and bowed. Laylah recognized Ukkutīka, the senior Tugar at Jivita.

“Mistress Laylah, we are at your service,” he said, gesturing toward the Tugars who waited close by. “Most others who took part in the great battle have already returned to the White City to eat, sleep, and tend to their wounds. For your own safety, please allow us to escort you to your chambers in the palace so that you might finally take some respite.”

“Safety? Respite?” Laylah said. “Do such things still exist?”

“Your point is well taken, mistress,” Ukkutīka said. “I cannot deny that the times are dire—more so for you than for anyone else. But the Tugars would rest easier if you were to enter Jivita.
The Torgon
left us with orders to attend to your every need, though we would have done so regardless, so much do we love you already. Will you not come?”

“Sir Elu loves you too,” said the Svakaran with adoring eyes. “But he must return to his duties with the queen.”

Ugga chimed in. “And I has to admit that I is kinda hungry and thirsty. I’d like to go with the brave Tugars back to the palace too, just to get some breakfast. It would be nicey if ya would walk along with the little guy and me. We are still very sad and need the company of our good friends.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Laylah said. Then she turned to Ukkutīka. “But tell me one thing before we leave this place. Where are Lucius, Bonny, and the Daasa?”

“The firstborn, his mate, and the Daasa have returned to the forest. I overheard the Jivitan general ordering the construction of a pavilion to accommodate General Lucius and his companion.”

“Loo-shus says he wants us to come for a visit, once we’re rested,” Ugga said. “He asked me to make sure we bring a barrel of ale so that we can all drink together.”

Laylah nodded. Then she and her companions began the long walk toward the northern gate. Though it still was early morning, the air already was stiflingly hot. Eventually they passed some of the massive pyres that had burned so fiercely the night before. Already strong breezes had scattered most of the white ash, uncovering scorched patches of grass. Laylah knelt and ran her hand through the ash. It was as fluffy as flour, containing neither chips of bone nor shards of wood. The pyres had burned down to their most basic essence. By next spring there would be little evidence that a battle had occurred.

“Your magic played a role,” Ukkutīka said, as if reading her mind. “The pyres burned magnificently and without cessation, until everything was consumed. Even the queen was amazed, or so I have been told.”

“It was Obhasa more than I,” Laylah said.

“Nay,” the Tugar said. “The flames were white, not blue. I remained here last night after you and
The Torgon
departed
 . . .
and witnessed this myself.”

Laylah shrugged. “No matter how powerful I have become, it will not be enough.”

“The Tugars will stand by you, my queen.”

“I am not yet your queen.”

“We regard you thus.”

Laylah blushed. “Your words honor me.”

“If Laylah’s not a queen, nobody is,” Elu said.

“Ema!
Ema!”
the Tugar escort chanted.

“Who’s this Em-muh lady ya guys are always shouting about? Is she a queen too?” Ugga said.

Some of the Tugars laughed so hard they fell to their knees.

THE FOLLOWING morning—at the same time Mala’s army was breaching Ott—a small group of friends rode out of the gates of Jivita and entered the Green Plains. Laylah, Ugga, Rajinii, and Sir Elu were in solemn moods, barely speaking to each other as they journeyed northward.

Laylah’s distress was obvious. She could not keep her mind off Torg and the dangers he must be facing at Nissaya. Regarding her companions, it was easy for the sorceress to surmise what caused them to grieve: Ugga over Bard’s death; Elu over the disappearance of Rathburt; and Rajinii over the specter of yet another invasion of Jivita, not to mention her obsessive desire for Torg. The queen probably was as worried about him as Laylah, though the latter could no longer work up much jealousy over it.

Knowing that an impending confrontation with Mala was a week away at the earliest, they took the opportunity to ride to greet Lucius and Bonny at their pavilion, which had been constructed near the southern border of Dhutanga. At least it would be something to take their minds off the constant worry.

A dozen Tugars followed behind them on foot, along with an ass that bore a keg of beer as large as a man. A special supper was planned that would include onion soup, fish stew, and roasted meats. Normally, Laylah would have been looking forward to it, especially since she had not eaten breakfast, but her stomach felt queasy. Until recently she had been accustomed to feeling this way whenever she wandered openly during the brightness of day, but she knew that it now was Torg’s plight that caused her discomfort far more than the sunlight.

Rajinii startled her with a sudden comment. “Do you sense anything?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you
sense
anything? About Torg?”

“My thoughts are blank,” Laylah said. “And you?”

“Nothing.” Then she added, “I believe that I
 . . .
we
 . . .
would know if he were harmed.”

“I agree,” Laylah said, “but in some ways, that makes it worse. I’m so afraid I can barely breathe.”

“I’ve felt that way for years,” Rajinii said, still bearing bruises on her face and torso from the battle with the druids.

“Me too,” Laylah said. “And I’m tired of it.”

“Yes.” Then Rajinii looked down at Elu, making a good-natured attempt to lighten their moods. “How about you, Sir Elu?”

“Your highness?”

“What do you sense?”

The Svakaran spoke slowly. “Elu doesn’t have great magic like you and Queen Laylah. But he believes that the
great one
will return to us unharmed.”

“That’s what Ugga thinks too,” the crossbreed said. “Master Hah-nah is not meant to die just yet.” Then he lowered his head and hid his face, but not before they saw him resume his crying over the loss of Bard.

“This is going to be quite the party,” Rajinii remarked.

As if on cue, a Tugar trotted forward. “
King Torgon
will return. Do not doubt it,” Ukkutīka said. “When Sir Elu calls our lord the
great one
, his words are more accurate than he knows. Torg
always
returns.” Then he fell back and rejoined the other desert warriors.

“We’ve been properly chastised,” Rajinii said.

Laylah chuckled. “Yes. But hearing the words from a Tugar’s mouth brings comfort.”

“I can’t deny it,” Rajinii said.

THAT SAME MORNING, Lucius and Bonny woke early, left the privacy of their curtained pavilion, and rushed into the woods to check on the Daasa. Since the battle with the druids, the Daasa had returned to their
nicey
state, as Ugga called it, and had not strayed from it, preferring to eat, sleep, and play—in no particular order. They also had proven to possess remarkable recuperative powers. Though most of the survivors had borne gashes and punctures, some of which were life-threatening, they now appeared miraculously healed and were thriving again. Long swims in the frothy currents of Cariya seemed to hasten their recoveries, as if clean water was all the magic they needed to succor their wounds.

However, Lucius was not faring as well. His back bore several long scratches due to an especially spirited bout of lovemaking. Would the pirate woman kill him before Mala and Invictus got the chance? The thought made him chuckle.

“What is it, sweety?” said Bonny, her eyes playful. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

Lucius laughed. “Only that I love you so much.”

Bonny smacked him on the buttocks. “You are a liar. That’s not all you were thinking. But some lies are good ones.”

After playing with the Daasa by the river, they returned to the pavilion. By then, General Navarese and a squadron of white horsemen had arrived with cooks and servitors who already were preparing supper. When Laylah and the others approached in the afternoon, Lucius was pleased—in more ways than one. The presence of his dear friends filled him with joy, but so did something else: the realization that Laylah now was truly just a friend. His jealousy was gone, his love for Bonny overwhelming it. Lucius was proud of himself and also relieved. His obsession with Laylah had been a larger drain on his mind and body than he had realized. Lucius felt like he could breathe again.

All things considered, the meal went well. They purposely spoke little of Nissaya or the upcoming battle, instead focusing their attention on bittersweet revelry. They drank every drop of ale, and then wine on top of that—masking their anxiety with drunkenness. In the midevening their companions began the return journey to Jivita, depending on their horses to find the way. Lucius kissed Laylah goodbye, but Bonny didn’t appear jealous because he also kissed Rajinii, Navarese, Ugga, Elu, and the ass that had brought the beer.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow at the Privy Council,” Navarese said, his voice slurred. “It is important that you are there.”

But Lucius was staggering toward the pavilion and did not hear. Bonny already was inside, snoring softly.

“At least there’ll be no scratches tonight,” Lucius thought. “We’re both too tired.”

As it turned out he was wrong. Bonny’s appetites transcended even exhaustion.