Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (32 page)

Navarese leaned close and whispered. “White riders are bearing Queen Rajinii’s body back to the palace. They also found the scattered remains of the great dragon. But we have found no sign of Invictus, Torg, or Laylah.”

“What has this to do with us?” Lucius said.

“It has
everything
to do with you,” Navarese said excitedly, still attempting to whisper but now speaking loudly enough for many to hear. “The White City has not yet fallen. We still maintain sufficient numbers to defend our homes. And with you at our side, Jivita will again become a center of power. Invictus may be strong, but his army is decimated. It might be years before he chooses to assail us. In the meantime, we can rebuild. Why would you and the Daasa not want to be a part of this? The fate of the free world is at stake.”

Lucius grabbed Navarese’s armored shoulder and pulled him close. “I will say this one time only. As far as I’m concerned, the war is lost. As long as Invictus lives, there will be no freedom for anyone. For my part, I plan to sail across the sea and return what remains of the Daasa to their homelands. They deserve nothing less. Either you will provide me with supplies and horses—a meager request, in my opinion—or you will thwart me. What say you?”

Navarese yanked away, his cheeks now flushed with anger. Then he stomped back to his destrier and mounted on his own. “Give them whatever they desire,” he shouted to Captain Julich, before reining his warhorse and galloping away.

As it turned out, the general was a man of his word. By noon, Lucius, Bonny, the Daasa, and six white palfreys were departing through the northern gates.

Lucius had changed into a wool shirt, breeches, and sturdy boots. Bonny also wore breeches, boots, and a hooded tunic. The horses they rode were outfitted with deep-seated saddles designed for comfort during long rides. The other four carried supplies strapped to pack saddles. Lucius estimated they bore enough food to last at least a week, as long as the palfreys were given sufficient time to graze.

Compared to the far taller and more massive destriers, the palfreys had short legs, long bodies, and a gentle amble that Lucius found pleasant. The spongy turf of the Green Plains was especially easy on the horses, and they were able to cover long distances at impressive speed with little signs of tiring. By dusk they had traveled more than ten leagues before stopping on the southwestern outskirts of Dhutanga. Upon reaching the fringe of the forest, the Daasa squealed with excitement and rushed in to feed and find water. Lucius and Bonny camped overnight and arose to another glorious spring day.

“At least the heat’s broken,” Lucius said before taking a bite out of a biscuit. “I guess we’ll never know everything that happened after we fled. The Jivitans said there was no sign of Torg or Laylah. Did Invictus take them both back to Avici?”

“It’s not something we should think about,” Bonny said. “No matter what happened, we can’t do anything about it. The welfare of the Daasa should be our concern. The rest will have to fend for themselves.”

“I can’t help but feel like a captain too cowardly to go down with his ship.”

“You are no coward, Lucius. Against the sorcerer, you were helpless—as was everyone else. It’s better you do this thing for the Daasa than throw your life away for nothing.”

Lucius nodded half-heartedly.

They continued their journey, riding all through the day without incident.

The Daasa came and went as they pleased, disappearing for short stretches before charging back into view more excited than ever. There was nothing subtle about their behavior, and any enemies they encountered would be alerted long in advance. The thought made Lucius uncomfortable, but it was impossible to keep so many rambunctious creatures under control.

Regardless, they saw nothing threatening. Instead, a staggering variety of birds attracted their attention. Though the ocean was almost fifteen leagues to the west, seabirds such as gulls, herons, and egrets were almost as numerous as the eagles, ducks, and woodpeckers that thrived on the border of the forest. As they continued northward, the grass became less lush and the ground muddier and more difficult to traverse. On occasion, bogs blocked their way and tall grass encircled them, forcing them to enter areas of forest deeper than Lucius would have preferred. If it weren’t for the Daasa and their desire to stay near the trees, the firstborn would have chosen to journey west to the ocean and travel up the coast, much of which was lightly populated, especially this far north.

That night, whistles and squeals awakened Lucius and Bonny. Lucius grabbed a long sword and the pirate a bow and sheath of arrows the Jivitans had supplied. Rushing toward the sounds, they came upon a pair of great apes chasing down and killing the now-helpless Daasa. The pirate slew the largest ape with an arrow to the face, and the other fled deep into the darkness of the woods.

For the rest of the night, the Daasa huddled together, quiet and trembling, and the horses, also frightened, squeezed into the pack and lay down among them. In the morning, Lucius found six Daasa dead and evidence of at least one more having been dragged away.

To the surprise of both Lucius and Bonny, the Daasa formed a long line and headed westward on their own. It seemed obvious to Lucius that they recognized their vulnerability and could sense that the sea would be safer than the forest. Besides trees, the Daasa’s next favorite thing seemed to be water. Lucius wondered if their forest home on the other side of the ocean was near the coast. Perhaps they traveled often to the ocean to feed. He had never seen them eat fish, but he had on occasion watched them forage for freshwater snails and clams, the only flesh he had witnessed them eat while in their “nicey” state.

Though he didn’t fully understand why they were doing it, the Daasa’s surprise exodus pleased Lucius. He too wanted to get as far from the trees as possible. In Dhutanga, the great apes were just one of the potential dangers. Tygers and wild cats were also numerous, not to mention the druid queen and her surviving minions. He believed she was hidden a great distance away, but why should they take the risk of attracting her attention, if it could be avoided?

They traveled nonstop all through the day, reaching the coast just before dusk. Tall, lazy waves, crashing onto a blanket of white sand, greeted them. Though the air was cool and the water chilly, the Daasa charged into the surf with almost the same enthusiasm as they did the forest, swimming with the ease of dolphins in currents that caused Lucius to shudder.

The sunset was beautiful. Bonny and Lucius sat down in the sand, wrapped themselves in a blanket, and drank pale wine.

“If nothing else bad happens, I guess we’ll reach the port in four more days,” Bonny said.

“And then what?”

“Depends on how many pirates are still there. Maybe what happened at Duccarita scared them away.”

“We have coin enough to hire a crew, if coin still means anything now that the world is on fire. But what’s to stop them from killing us and taking it for themselves?”

“We’ll have to be careful, but not all pirates are evil as you might think. If you let me handle things, we should be all right. Besides, when they see the Daasa, they’ll be plenty scared, is my guess. They’ll probably crew for us for free.”

A lone Daasa came over to them, dripping wet, its hindquarters waggling. It knelt in front of them and spit out a large conch shell that contained a thick slab of edible meat.

Bonny smiled at the Daasa. “Thank you, darlin’.” Then she yanked out the meat, cut it in half with a dagger, and jammed her half into her mouth. “These are best raw.”

When Lucius took a nibble, his eyes opened wide, and he quickly devoured the rest. Then he turned to Bonny—with lust in his eyes. “I know something else that is best raw.”

“Why
 . . .
Lucius.
”

With the Daasa in attendance, they made love in the sand. Unlike before, they did not transform into hideous monsters. Heedless of their moans, the waves continued to crash against the shore.

AFTER LEAVING Lucius and the Daasa to their own devices, General Navarese rode back to the courtyard that fronted the queen’s palace. There he met the white horsemen who had returned with Queen Rajinii’s body. Among other things, they reported that no Tugar corpses had been found among the fallen, which indicated to Navarese that the desert warriors had scoured the battlefield with astounding efficiency before the arrival of his own scouts.

Navarese knew that Bhayatupa had been destroyed and surmised that Laylah had been taken, but what of the Death-Knower? Had Torg been slain by Invictus? If so, the Tugars must have taken his body with the rest of their fallen. And would the
Kantaara Yodhas
attempt a counterattack on Avici to rescue their new queen? So many unanswered questions made him nervous.

At least Burly had been able to provide him with some information. But even the enchanter, who usually seemed to know everything, had fallen short in this regard. The Gillygaloo had fled the battlefield after witnessing Rajinii’s death.

“Torg was next,” Burly had said tearfully. “I couldn’t bear to watch my friend suffer. Nor did I have the courage to stand with him. Invictus has taught me that I am a coward at heart.”

“Against the sorcerer, we are all cowards,” Navarese had said. In truth, the general couldn’t blame the enchanter for fleeing when he did, but the tactician in him craved information of any kind.

The following evening, Rajinii was laid upon a pyre just a stone’s throw from the golden sculpture of the horse-drawn chariot rising from the water. Her body still was adorned in the same white armor she had worn into battle, but a new helm had been placed on her head to conceal the grotesqueness of her expression. Despite repeated attempts, her eyes could not be made to close, and she now looked like an ancient woman.

Archbishop Bernard and two dozen clergymen gathered around the pyre, chanting words of praise, both for the queen and the One God. At dusk Navarese himself set the pyre aflame, as no necromancers remained to perform this task. Rajinii had found her peace—and salvation. But the rest of them still were in trouble, especially since Lucius and the Daasa had chosen not to remain in the White City.

While the clergymen sang hymns, Navarese gathered his closest advisors around a table inside a nearby pavilion. “How many of the
Assarohaa
remain alive?” the general asked bluntly.

Julich was the first to speak, though his eyes were bloodshot and his voice unsteady. “Of horsemen, we have fewer than two hundred score, and less than half that number is without injury.”

The general sighed. “And civilians?”

Burly the enchanter answered that question. “My sources report that about ten thousand are scattered throughout the city, including the few Nissayans that arrived here from the fortress. Many are hiding not from the enemy but from you, general. They fear reprisal for ignoring the command to evacuate.”

Navarese sighed. “We will call them out in the morning. Let it be known that all will be pardoned. If we’re to properly defend Jivita, we must unite.”

The following morning, Navarese ordered the ringing of the dawn bells, but this time they sounded only the bells of Annusati, the largest cathedral in the White City. Even so, they could be heard throughout the metropolis, and their meaning was plain: it was time to gather.

Annusati rivaled the queen’s palace in size and scope, its openwork spires towering eight stories. The mammoth cathedral was constructed of white marble, gray limestone, and rare white oak from the borders of the southern forest Kincara. A vaulted ceiling soared five stories above the enormous nave, which contained one hundred rows of pews, each able to seat five score worshippers. The chancel, elevated three steps above the nave, was almost as large as the congregational area. To this wondrous marvel of architecture came everyone who remained in Jivita.

Navarese looked upon the gathering with a mixture of hope and despair. He was pleased to see that almost everyone in attendance was an adult of fighting age; at least the elderly and children had evacuated. But only one in four was a trained soldier; the rest were clergymen, tradesmen, and manual laborers unaccustomed to the rigors of combat.

Before sitting upon his cathedra, the archbishop conducted a series of prayers. The general stood nearby, impatiently tapping one of his sollerets on the marble floor. When Bernard finally finished, Navarese took the stage. Still in his original armor but wearing fresh undergarments, the general removed his helm, placed it in the crook of his arm, and strode to the front of the chancel. Navarese was not the least bit nervous; to the contrary, he was in his element. When the general spoke, his voice was heard easily throughout the cavernous chamber.

“Thank you, archbishop,” he said, nodding to Bernard. “
Ekadeva
is more than pleased, I’m sure. But today our time is short, and we must forestall a full service in the name of prudence. I have things to say that are of the utmost importance to all in attendance.”

Bernard smirked but did not respond.

“Good people of Jivita,” the general continued. “As you know, her royal highness has been slain.” Though this was common knowledge, the spoken words still spurred gasps and murmurs. “Queen Rajinii fought bravely against an evil enemy, and though she fell, we all know that she fares better than those of us who still live. The queen resides among the greats in
Ekadeva
’s heaven, and for that we should rejoice.”

“
Now
who’s preaching?” Bernard whispered, barely loud enough for Navarese and a few people in the first row of pews to hear. The general pretended to ignore him.

“But when the great are no longer, the lesser must lead. And so, the defense of the White City falls to me.” Navarese paused for a moment of dramatic silence. Then he said, “I have to be honest with you. The queen’s last command was for me to lead the remnants of her army and her citizens to the havens, where we were to arrange a defense and await—for however long—the final stroke. But though her royal majesty still commands us from heaven, it is I who now command us from this lesser place.”

Scattered applause slowly gained momentum but died away before becoming thunderous. Navarese had hoped for more, but it was too late to stop now.

“Therefore, these are my commands. One score of
Assarohaa
will gather outside the queen’s palace at dusk and depart the White City soon after. Any among you who wish to evacuate to the havens should be there promptly and with whatever belongings you can carry by horse, wagon, or on your backs.” Again there were gasps and murmurs. “After that,” Navarese said, now almost shouting, “any who remain with me will be expected to join in the defense of Jivita. We have not yet fallen. And as long as I stand, we will not fall!”

Finally the general received the reaction he was hoping for. Almost everyone in attendance stood and applauded. Never before had the inside of the cathedral seen such raucousness. Bernard smirked again, but remained silent. Navarese waited, patiently this time, until Annusati grew quiet.

“I will not fail Jivita,” the general said. “
We
will not fail Jivita. Those who remain will be fully outfitted and given honorable assignments. No enemy, no matter how strong, will pass through our gates unchallenged.”

The cheering began again.

AT THE BREAK OF dawn, Vikkama, Nīsa, and four other Asēkhas left Podhana and the others and trudged westward toward Jivita. Fifteen leagues lay between their starting point and the eastern gates of the White City. Vikkama, senior among these six, set the pace—at first a comfortable jog. But the Asēkha eventually found herself slowing to a stroll, the multicolored beauty of the Green Plains seducing her.

Now that the unseasonably intense heat brewed by the sorcerer’s dark magic had released its unnatural grip, the air was laced with cool spring breezes and the lovely fragrances of plants in bloom. Huge expanses of blue violets, yellow dandelions, lavender lupines, and a dozen other varieties of wildflowers were painted artfully on an endless stretch of green canvas. Vikkama was amazed to see only minor damage to the sod and plants from the heat, even though there had been little rain. In this part of the world, the rich soil felt damp to the touch even during droughts.

“You seem in no hurry,” Nīsa said, startling Vikkama from her reverie. “Do you sense danger?”

“No,” she said. “In fact, quite the opposite. After all the horrors of the past few days, I’m surprised to find that I am still capable of enjoying the splendor of the land. I’ve always adored the Green Plains, especially in spring. They remind me of an oasis with no boundaries.”

“And as you know, I prefer the open waters of lakes and oceans to seas of grass and flowers,” Nīsa said. “Even from here, I can smell the salt air of Akasa.”

“We make quite a pair,” Vikkama said. “Have there ever been two Tugars with such disdain for sand?”

Nīsa chuckled. “Let’s just say that our tastes are more worldly than most.”

The other Asēkhas also chuckled. They seemed to be enjoying the leisurely pace as much as Vikkama. The Twenty had been under enormous stress since being ordered to abandon
The Torgon
in the mountains west of Kamupadana. In the ensuing forty-four days they had fought battles in the Gap of Gamana, on the western shore of Lake Ti-ratana, on the border of Java, at Nissaya, and in the Green Plains east of Jivita. And despite all their efforts, they had lost their beloved king, whom they were sworn to protect. Even warriors of their caliber needed occasional moments of relief.

“Jivita can wait for our arrival until tomorrow,” Vikkama said. “For now, let us take pleasure where we can.”

At midmorning, a squadron of white horsemen thundered westward along Iddhi-Pada. The Asēkhas hid in the grass, not yet willing to reveal their presence. Once the horsemen passed, the desert warriors continued their march, stopping at noon to munch on Cirāya and sip Tugarian nectar.

“The last time I was in Jivita, Burly Boulogne showed me the secret place where he stores his wine,” one of the Asēkhas said. “We should each steal a barrel before we leave.”

“
If
we leave,” Vikkama said. “We know naught what we’ll find in the White City. It might be that at least one of us will need to stay.”

“Then it should be you,” the warrior said. “You love the Green Plains more than the rest of us.”

Vikkama shrugged. “We shall see what we shall see. For now, let’s lie down in the grass and take a nap. I can’t remember the last time I slept properly. I am so exhausted I can barely stand.”

In late afternoon they awoke refreshed, ate another small meal, and continued westward, choosing to walk barefooted in the grass rather than booted on the hard stone road. For the most part, the Green Plains were devoid of activity. Occasionally, the warriors came upon a wagon the Jivitan army had abandoned, and once they encountered a limping destrier still burdened by heavy armor. Vikkama caught up to it, spoke soothing words, and then removed the barding. Afterward, the Asēkha found that a vampire’s claw was imbedded in one of the horse’s meaty forearms. Vikkama removed the claw and rubbed Tugarian salve on the wound. Relieved of the pain and poison, the great beast nickered affectionately, then turned and cantered westward, its limp barely noticeable.

“Should we not have kept the stallion?” Nīsa said. “We could have taken turns riding.”

“He has been mistreated enough for one lifetime and has earned a taste of freedom,” Vikkama said. “Let him run.”

“Ema
 . . .
Ema
 . . .
”
the Asēkhas chanted, including Nīsa.

They continued at a leisurely pace, at least by Tugarian standards. The evening sky was clear and sparkling. The quarter moon rose at midnight, its left side aglow. All through the night they sauntered, speaking seldom. When they reached the wondrous white bridge that spanned the Cariya River, it was nearly dawn. They were greeted—suspiciously, at first—by a dozen white horsemen, who were obviously so exhausted they could barely mount a challenge. But when they recognized the Asēkhas, they cast off their helms and cheered.