Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (16 page)

THE FOLLOWING morning, William Navarese stood in his bedchambers, hunched over a broad wooden table littered with parchments. Though he was alone, the general spoke loudly, as if presiding over a gathering of advisors.

“Fifty thousand destriers. Twenty-five thousand white horsemen. Two thousand Tugars. Six thousand Daasa
 . . .
maybe
. Twenty necromancers. And a smattering of others. Too few. Too few.”

Would aid come from Nissaya? Torg had indicated that most of the Tugars had survived. If seven thousand more were to arrive in Jivita, it would be an incalculable boon. But even then, their army would be puny when compared to Mala’s host.

“And if we lose the Daasa, it will be even worse,” he said out loud to no one.

Still, he would do his best to devise new schemes that might give them a chance. His earlier plans were no longer applicable. None had been made with the knowledge that the newborns could transform. A week remained to revise his strategies—and he would need every moment of that time. When an idea finally came to him that might make best use of the particular skills of both his horsemen and the Tugars, Navarese swung open his door and screamed down the hall to any who might hear.

“Someone get me
The Torgon
, dammit! And the queen. And tell them to meet me in the throne room. Hurry!”

Navarese’s vision prompted a long planning session among Torg, Navarese, and Queen Rajinii about the upcoming war. Afterward, most of the pieces were in place. For whatever solace it gave them, Mala, at least, would not catch them unprepared. However, only two thousand Tugars were currently at Jivita. Podhana and the other Tugars, along with Kusala and the other Asēkhas, were still missing.

In the Green Plains east of the White City, the Jivitan army was already entrenched. A broad area of lush grass and wildflower blooms would host the final battle. At least in terms of terrain, the white horsemen would have the advantage. No one knew how to fight better on the plains than the Assarohaa. But they had never encountered a host so vastly superior in strength, numbers, and ferocity.

Torg and Navarese stood together beneath the newly risen moon. For the past four days, they had searched for ways to defeat Mala’s army of monsters. Rajinii and Laylah also had been with them, along with top commanders representing the white horsemen and Tugars. Some believed they should march immediately and attempt to catch the Chain Man unawares, but these suggestions were cast aside, most vehemently by Navarese himself. Victory in this battle, the general argued, could be achieved only through discipline. Meeting Mala anywhere east of Lake Hadaya would be suicide. Better to take what time remained to them to settle into place, feeding and resting both the soldiers and their steeds.

Almost twenty-five thousand armored horsemen and twice that many destriers remained from the battle with the druids. Of those, five thousand were former infantry now aboard barded destriers. All were heavily armored, bearing some combination of lance, longsword, mace, and crossbow. Jivitan armor was so well made, shields usually were disdained. But in this battle, Navarese believed that they would prove useful. Therefore, each rider now bore a kite-shaped shield, fronted with thick white iron but padded on the back with soft leather.

Tugars roamed among the host. Per usual, they disdained armor, wielding only
uttara
, short sword, daggers, and slings. Their flesh was their armor.

To the joy of all, the number of Tugars swelled to almost nine thousand when Podhana arrived from Nissaya, his company weary from its excruciating march. One thousand black knights and five hundred refugees were with them, most of the latter barely able to stand.

Torg rushed forward and clasped forearms with the highly ranked Asēkha.

“
Abhinandanena te garukaromi
(I greet you with great joy)!” Torg said. “You have made the journey quickly.”

“Abhinandanena te garukaromi!”
Podhana echoed. “There were times when the lesser among us had to be carried, which slowed us down. I told them that I would abandon them if they didn’t keep up, but my heart has grown soft.”

Torg chuckled ruefully. “How many went with Kusala and Madiraa into the catacombs?”

“Twenty score.” Then Podhana leaned close to Torg and spoke in a near-whisper. “Mala was so obsessed with the queen and chieftain, he paid us little heed. From a distance, I witnessed the collapse of the keep. It crumbled like the remnants of a log on a blazing fire. What became of Kusala and Madiraa afterward, I cannot say.”

Navarese came forward. “Welcome to Jivita, brave warrior. It was wise of you to flee the fortress without risking further injury. The best hope of defeating Mala lies here in the Green Plains.”

Podhana grunted. “Wisdom is small solace. We fled because we had no other choice, but it made it no less shameful. Cowardice is a heavy burden.”

“Nonsense!” Navarese said. “Choosing to fight another day is not cowardice, when suicide is your only other option.”

The Asēkha looked at Torg, his deep-blue eyes sad. “My lord, I am too weary for this debate. Is there a place prepared for us?”

By then, Ukkutīka, the senior warrior at Jivita until the arrival of Podhana, stepped forward. “Asēkha, a place has been prepared, and we are well-provisioned. Your brothers and sisters have long awaited your arrival. There will be great joy among us.”

When Podhana departed, Navarese seemed puzzled. “He had no choice but to flee. Why does he berate himself?”

Torg sighed. “He was there, general. He
saw
. The Tugars have never abandoned so many. He feels responsible for the slaughter. As do I.”

“Invictus and Mala are the only ones responsible,” Navarese said. “You did your best. And you’re not finished. You may yet achieve vengeance.”

“Nonetheless
 . . .
” Torg said.

Afterward, he sought out Laylah and found her standing alone on a hillock. She was staring up at the full moon, as if in a trance.

“My love,” he said, “most of the Tugars have arrived from Nissaya. Only the few who remained with Kusala have yet to appear.”

“That is wonderful news,” she said, though her voice sounded anything but joyful. Then she gestured toward the moon. “Is it not beautiful? If only I could bask in its reflection
 . . .
without dread.”

Torg could think of no response. He too was filled with dread.

After a long silence Laylah said, “Beloved?”

“Yes, my love?”

“If you fall
 . . .
I will end my life. Do you doubt it?”

“I do not doubt it.”

“But
 . . .
”

“Yes?”

“If Invictus has taken me from you
 . . .
and you still live
 . . .
”

“If that occurs, you must somehow close your mind to him
 . . .
and stay alive,” Torg said. “If I still live, I will find you. Do you doubt it?”

“I do not.”

“Laylah?”

“Yes, beloved?”

“I will find you
 . . .
even
if
I die.”

The sorceress burst into tears.

THEY WERE NOT quite as fast as stallions or as tireless as camels, but when the need arose, Tugars could cover long distances on foot with amazing speed. Marching with Kusala were sixteen Asēkhas and twenty score Tugars, and the chieftain took satisfaction in knowing that none among their company would slow them down, despite their exhaustion from their ordeals at Nissaya.

Along the border of the forested foothills the terrain was difficult, but Kusala, unsure of the current location of Mala’s army, was loath to leave the cover of the trees, forcing a slower pace than he preferred. Still, it was better than being spotted by one of Mala’s dracools. Kusala had one goal in mind: reach Jivita as fast as possible. The Chain Man’s army probably had a lead, but it would move far more slowly than the Tugars. Kusala hoped to reach the White City long ahead of his enemy.

During the worst heat of the afternoon they stopped to rest and eat.

The Tugars carried few provisions, but in midspring there was abundant food and water to be found in the foothills. They ignored game because they dared not light a fire, but they could hardly walk a step without encountering wild greens, potatoes, onions, and a variety of edible roots. That morning, they already had feasted on honey from an enormous beehive found in the crook of a tree. Around noon they had come across an abandoned farmhouse and discovered dried meat and fruit in the kitchen pantry. All in all, they were well-fed.

Whether running or resting, Kusala could not stop thinking about Madiraa. A part of him regretted allowing her to separate from the Tugars, but when he brought this up to the Asēkhas, Churikā had scolded him.

“Chieftain! What were you going to do? Tie her up and drag her all the way to Jivita? She’s a
queen
, for Anna’s sake. She goes where she chooses. Besides, she’s safer going east than west, if you ask me.”

Though he didn’t take well to scolding, especially by someone so much younger than he, Kusala realized that Churikā was right. Afterward, he began to feel a little better. Madiraa was safer going east, and maybe when she approached Avici and saw the futility of her quest, she would turn aside. Yes . . . and camels will learn to fly.

When they reached the northern shore of Lake Hadaya, the Tugars encountered a Jivitan scout aboard a lean white stallion bred for endurance.

“Well met,
Kantaara Yodhas
!” she called to them. “A great army of your kind passed this way less than two days ago, and there were black knights and refugees with them, though they were struggling to keep up.”

Knowing that most of the Tugars still survived made Kusala smile. “And
The Torgon
?” he said to the scout.

“He returned to Jivita the morning after the fall of Nissaya. It must be that he can fly
 . . .
or at least run faster than you.”

Kusala laughed loudly. “That is wonderful news.”

“The Jivitans are overjoyed by his presence. Among us all, there are none greater.” Then she asked, “What say you of the whereabouts of Mala’s army? Without the mountain eagles we are blind to the enemy’s movements, and we dare not ride any farther east than this.”

“We have traveled far in a short time,” Kusala said. “Yet the enemy had a head start. My guess is that Mala is no more than half-a-day behind us.”

“The storm approaches,” the scout said. “I will ride in a rush to Jivita. Should I send aid? Are there injured among you?”

“We need no aid that a keg of ale and a good night’s sleep won’t cure, but we have time for neither. Go now and alert the others.”

The scout drew a white horn from her belt and put it to her lips. Soon after she sounded the horn, Kusala could hear other horns in the distance. Then she waved to the Tugars and rode off in a frantic gallop.

“The storm approaches, indeed,” Kusala whispered. “At least the Tugars will face it with our king at our side. If it’s time to die, then we will welcome it alongside greatness.”

When Kusala and his company finally arrived at Jivita, they were greeted with shouts and cries of joy by desert warriors and white horsemen alike. It was late evening, two nights past the full moon, when the chieftain grasped forearms with
The Torgon
, who was accompanied by Laylah, Podhana, and Ukkutīka, among others.

“
Abhinandanena te garukaromi
(I greet you with great joy)!” Torg said to his longtime friend.

Kusala repeated the salutation. Then he turned to Laylah. “It is wonderful to see you again, my lady.”

The sorceress curtsied. “The pleasure is mine.”

“And what of Ugga and Elu?” Kusala said. “Though I knew them for just a short time, I grew fond of their company.”

“They are out and about,” Torg said, chuckling. “They are especially clever at being in the right place at the right time whenever a fresh keg of ale is brought forth.” Then the wizard’s face grew puzzled. “It was reported by Jivitan scouts that Madiraa was not with you. Did the queen perish in the catacombs?”

Kusala sighed. “The story is long, my lord. Might I tell it over food and ale?”