Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (14 page)

Torg returned her gaze
 . . .
and nodded.

AFTER DEPOSITING
The Torgon
on Laylah’s windowsill, the Faerie had left Jivita. In her incarnation as the eagle Sakuna, she had soared northward, flying at speeds only the great dragons could rival. Quickly she was over Dhutanga, which from the upper heights resembled a dark-green carpet with a blue spine.

For the most part, the Faerie trusted Peta—and even loved her. But there was one part of “the plan” that the Faerie needed to see with her own eyes—for
The Torgon
’s sake, not her own. The wizard deserved this confirmation, even if it was too soon for the full extent of its ramifications to be revealed to him.

Eventually, she left Dhutanga behind and flew above the northwestern mountains of the Y-shaped Mahaggatan range. To her left was the Akasa Ocean and to her right the frozen wastes of Nirodha. Beneath her were toothy mountains, their snow-covered peaks as sharp as fangs. The unseasonable heat had not reached this far; even Invictus’s magic had limits, for now. But if the sorcerer was not stopped, his power would grow beyond the control of any and all. The Faerie’s unholy union with the despicable demon was designed to ensure that the Sun God was destroyed. It was ironic that she and her fellow
Vijjaadharaa
were forced to bargain with the very creature that had spawned Invictus. But Peta frequently claimed there was no other option, and the Faerie could find no reasons to disbelieve the ghost-child.

As Sakuna approached Catu, the northernmost mountain on all of Triken, the Faerie felt sadness engulf her physical incarnation that dwarfed even her reaction to the death of Bard. The handsome trapper had lived many times longer than his karma had decreed, and his death had not come without benefit. But the ancient mountain eagles that Bhayatupa had slain within a few leagues of where she now flew had died in vain. Their pride had prevented them from fleeing when the great dragon approached, and it had cost all of them their lives, with no gain whatsoever. At least it seemed so to the Faerie. Perhaps someone wiser could say differently.

Sakuna landed on a peak south of Catu and transformed to Jord. Now in the form of a white-haired woman, she roamed naked in the frozen heights, looking for any sign of the battle that had occurred here less than a month ago. Eventually, she found a long feather—brown with pale bands—that had been torn from the tail of one of her wondrous friends. And now that friend was no longer.

“Physical incarnation comes with such suffering,” Jord thought. “It is amazing that the living can tolerate being reborn
 . . .
eon upon eon.”

Jord transformed back to Sakuna and flew to the peak of Catu, landing at the maw of a hidden cave. Changing into Jord again, she crawled deep inside on hands and knees. Beneath a shaving of granite she uncovered a mysterious amulet: circular, smooth, and golden with no visible embellishments. Jord touched the amulet with her fingertip, feeling neither heat nor cold. In its own way this talisman was every bit as powerful as the Silver Sword or the ring of
Maōi
. But it had only one use—the preservation of flesh.

For now she was satisfied, and she left the amulet in its frozen resting place. Then she returned to the skies. Before all was said and done, the Faerie would come back to this place—though not alone.

FOR BONNY IT had been an excruciating day. Lucius had left their pavilion before dawn, setting off on a lean stallion built for speed, and had promised her that no matter how long the Privy Council dragged on, he would return before midnight. She had bid him goodbye with a kiss and a smile. But after he had departed, she had felt the stress start to build up inside her.

Though they had only been together for a few short weeks, she already knew enough about him to predict his reactions in advance. And in this case it scared her because she believed he might make a choice for her that she would be forced to refuse. She was certain that Lucius would ask her to lead the Daasa away from the Green Plains, probably suggesting that she take them to Mahaggata. He would do this because he loved her and feared for her. If it had meant spending more time with him, she might have agreed to it. But she knew in her heart that Lucius would not come. He would argue this was his war, not hers or the Daasa’s.

To Bonny, this was unacceptable. If Lucius didn’t flee, then neither would she—regardless of what the Daasa chose to do.

A dreadful sadness took root in her heart. She had grown to treasure every moment she spent with Lucius—and did not want it to end. But what hope did she have anymore? She had heard enough rumors to know that Mala would arrive in just a few days. She doubted that more than a handful of them would survive the upcoming battle, and those few would become the Chain Man’s slaves, which would be even worse than dying.

All during the day, her appetite had been poor. The white knights who guarded the pavilion were excellent hosts, attending to her every need and preparing simple but wonderful meals. Still, she refused everything they offered. Her stomach was grumbly and sour, and she couldn’t seem to shake her despair.

The Daasa, however, were their usual playful selves, disappearing into the woods for short periods before bursting into the clearing and leaping into the river like children finally given permission to swim. Even this did not cause Bonny to smile. In some ways she felt like a grieving widow who had recently lost the only man she had ever loved. Several times it reduced her to tears.

A long while after dusk, Lucius returned. Hundreds of Daasa sprinted from the darkness to greet him, but when they saw the look on his face, they scattered. Lucius was all sweaty, though his crimson doublet was dry, and instantly she knew what he had done. It wasn’t a good sign.

When she approached to hug and kiss the firstborn, he drew away.

“Bonny, we need to talk,” he said brusquely.

“Of course, sweety,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful. “Let’s go to the pavilion and have some wine. Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m not. I should be
 . . .
but I’m not.”

“I know the feeling.”

Lucius stumbled toward the pavilion, finally settling on a cushion. He looked exhausted.

“Would you rather just go to sleep and talk in the morning?”

“Huh? No
 . . .
no. We need to talk now.”

“All right, Lucius. Whatever you say.” Bonny handed him a cup of wine and sat down on the cushion beside him. “What do you want to talk about, sweety? Is it what you learned at the Privy Council?”

“Yes,” he said, lowering his head. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose.

“You changed
 . . .
and then ran all the way back, didn’t you?” Bonny said. “Why didn’t you ride the horse?”

Lucius lifted his head. “I was
 . . .
upset. I couldn’t seem to help myself. It felt good to run.”

“I understand,” Bonny said. “I have done that myself. So tell me what has you so upset. Beyond the obvious, I mean.”

When Lucius stared into her eyes, she could see his filling with tears.

“Bonny, it’s even worse than I feared, as if that’s possible. The golden soldiers were born of the Daasa. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course I do. It means that thousands and thousands of Daasa were slaughtered to create the newborns.”

“Think, Bonny
 . . .
what else does it mean?”

Bonny was becoming annoyed. “Lucius, I know you are tired and sad, but so am I. Don’t make me guess these things.”

Lucius stood up and stormed from the pavilion, heading toward Cariya. He stopped at the river’s edge and stared at the quarter moon.

Bonny came up behind him, more angry now than worried. “Tell me,” she shouted, causing several dozen Daasa to squeal and run. The white horsemen nearby also shied from her.

Lucius stepped toward her and grabbed her arms, as if to shake her. “You and I aren’t the only humans who can transform,” he said. “The newborns can do it too. There are tens of thousands of them still alive. Now do you understand?”

Bonny felt as if a cave troll had slapped her. She staggered back and fell onto her butt on the grass.

Lucius knelt beside her. “You know what you have to do,” he said in a desperate whisper.

“No.”

“You
must
!”

“
No!
Not unless you come with us.”

“Bonny, you know I can’t do that.”

She reached over and took his face in her hands. “Lucius, listen to me real careful. You can do with the Daasa what you want, but I will not go without you. If you stay, I stay
 . . .
and that is
that
.”

Lucius stood up, strode a few paces away, then whirled around. “Then you will die. And so will the Daasa.”

Bonny also stood, but now her voice was tender. “Lucius
 . . .
we are all going to die one day, but I would
rather
die in battle with you than live the rest of my life without you. Don’t you know that by now?”

IN THE DARKNESS of an uncomfortably warm evening, Lucius and Bonny sat on cushions within their pavilion and ate cheese and wafers. Other than the Daasa, they now were alone, the squadron assigned to guard them having departed earlier that day to join the rest of the white horsemen on the Green Plains east of Jivita.

“Then we are decided?” Bonny said.

Lucius sighed. “You and I will cross Cariya and head south. The Daasa will be allowed to choose their fate. If they follow, then they will join us in battle. If they refuse to leave the border of the forest, then they will be on their own. Personally, I hope they choose the latter.”

“So do I. The past couple of days, they have been acting strange. Large groups have been gathering on the riverbank and staring in the direction of Lake Hadaya, as if sensing Mala’s approach.”

“More likely, the newborns’ approach,” Lucius said. “The question then becomes, will they view them as enemies or brothers?”

“I think they will view them the way you and I view them.”

Lucius took one last sip of wine, then stood and left the pavilion. Bonny followed obediently. Several Daasa joined them, nipping at their ankles. When the firstborn and pirate reached the riverbank, the pair disrobed and stuffed their clothes into a cloth sack that contained several heavy stones. Then they lay down on the lush grass and made love, perhaps for the last time.

Sometime during the encounter, they transformed. While still in his monstrous persona, Lucius peeled himself off Bonny’s sweaty body, picked up the sack, and heaved it over the river. In his normal state, Lucius could not have thrown it more than twenty cubits, but his superhuman strength enabled him to cast it across Cariya onto the far bank. Afterward he smiled at Bonny, revealing a pair of glistening fangs, and then dove into the swirling currents. The pirate followed. Soon they were standing on the other side of the river. Only then did they revert to their normal selves and put their clothes back on.

The Daasa, of course, were enthralled. In unison the six thousand that had survived the battle with the druids splashed across the river, as if it were all just another game. Lucius looked at them and grimaced, their friendship and loyalty smiting his heart.

“I will not force you to follow,” he said out loud.

The Daasa responded by squealing, chittering, and rolling around in the grass to dry off. This cute behavior only made it worse.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Bonny said, taking his hand.

“No
 . . .
but there’s no reason to delay any longer.” He gazed at the Daasa again. “What will be will be.”

They skirted the eastern bank of Cariya. At first the Daasa trotted happily along, but soon it became apparent they were puzzled. Hundreds lagged behind, some sitting on the grass and refusing to walk farther. After little more than a mile, less than a third of the Daasa remained at their sides, and these were anxious and agitated. By the time Lucius and Bonny had walked a league, the Daasa were no longer with them, but their cries and squeals remained audible. With tears in their eyes, Lucius and Bonny stopped and turned around.

“It’s for the best,” Lucius said.

“I will miss them
 . . .
I love them
 . . .
”

“Me too. But if we somehow survive the battle, I promise you we’ll look for them. I don’t think they’ll wander far—at least, not right away.”

Bonny took his face in her hands. “I love the Daasa, but I love you more. I am glad to be with you, Lucius Annaeus. I will be proud to fight by your side.”

“The feeling is mutual, Bonny Calico. And before all who might hear, let it be known that I love you more than anyone in the world.”