Blood In the Water (21 page)

Regent Consort Shighat did not lounge in “repose” when Halik and Captain Sigg were ushered into his presence. Instead, he paced and apparently brooded restlessly before a line of what were probably his ranking generals and advisors. He had plenty of space for that, since the elaborately appointed interior of the “field palace” was just as vast as Halik had presumed, complete with four massive braziers that kept the space almost oppressively warm. Perhaps Halik had been outdoors too long. . . . Shighat paused when Halik was announced, and glared at him
with ruby red eyes that malevolently reflected the flickering flames of the braziers. His slender frame and apparent age immediately reminded Halik of Tsalka, the former “Sire” of all India and Ceylon he'd once been presented to. Tsalka had been in his forties before he was destroyed and was the oldest Hij that Halik ever saw besides the strange little interpreter, Hij Geerki, that General Lord Rolak had somehow acquired. Shighat looked just as ancient as Geerki, possibly over fifty, but not nearly as ravaged by his years. He had all his teeth and claws, for example, perfectly manicured and filed razor sharp. His high, flowing crest had been darkened and carefully coiffed as well. And his black-red robes were richly decorated with thick fringes of what looked like tiny golden bones. His demeanor, however, was quite different from Tsalka's. Whereas Tsalka had radiated a kind of distracted benevolence when he and Halik met, Lord Shighat seemed at pains to contain some inner affronted fury.

“What are you doing here? You are supposed to be dead,” he snapped, not even waiting for Halik to approach. That was probably just as well since Halik had no intention of prostrating himself, as required, particularly not in front of Captain Sigg, and that might have set things off in an unpleasant direction at the start.

“My apologies, Lord Regent Shighat,” Halik replied in a respectful but very dry tone. “I have tried my very best to be dead on numerous occasions, but thus far have failed to accomplish it. I expect to be successful soon enough.”

Shighat whirled to one of his generals. “Baseless rumors, as I suspected all along! Find any of the tale bearers still with the army that brought us news of disaster in the east and have them destroyed at once! Have them
flayed
!” He spun back to Halik. “I have marched half my levy across two-thirds of my regency, into its most inhospitable, uncomfortable reaches based on rumors that your armies in India and Ceylon were destroyed.
And all for nothing!
I must confess, I was perhaps too quick to credit those tales,” he added, his eyes narrowing. “The forces that landed in the south and crossed my realm to join you were so”—he shuddered—“unconventional. Useless creatures, I knew at once, marching along in ridiculous lines, carrying strange weapons . . .” He shook his head. “I knew they would be of no use to you at all, and feared disaster when I saw them.” He blinked and stared hard at Halik. “I am relieved that you prevailed against the prey in spite of them.”

Despite Shighat's words, Halik became even more wary, if anything. The regent's scrutiny was unnerving. And he realized the “forces” Shighat referred to must be the “hatchling host,” warriors trained from birth to do more than mindlessly attack. Warriors that now formed the backbone of what Halik had built and without which he certainly would've been destroyed. “They were quite useful, as it turned out,” he commented carefully.

“As rations, no doubt,” Shighat barked. “Not born proper warriors and raised to be such, what other use could they be?”

Halik attempted to change the subject. “Then, Lord, if you would, enlighten me regarding the content of these rumors? And their source?”

Shighat waved it away, his tone moderating with apparent relief. “All this tedious inconvenience for nothing,” he said, rolling his eyes. “March, march, march, for weeks on end! And it is
cold
here!” He shook his head. “Lowly Hij, fleeing the remorseless swarm of the enemy prey brought the news. I will certainly enjoy destroying
them
! They blabbered that Madras was lost in a terrible sea battle that actually
defeated
the great General of the Sea Kurokawa and his indestructible fleet!” Perhaps Shighat wasn't as opposed to “innovation” when it came to matters at sea, which he clearly didn't understand, any more than he understood what made good troops anymore. No fleet was indestructible, as Halik knew well, and Hisashi Kurokawa was anything but great. He wondered if Shighat even knew Kurokawa wasn't Ghaarrichk'k.

“Then they said that you had been pushed back to the interior of India, where your remaining armies were crushed!” Shighat continued. “Obviously, since you live, that was not the case.” He paused, his eyes narrowing once again. “I never would have credited such nonsense had there not been so many reports from so
many
Hij,” he said slowly, his tone turning sarcastic. “Yet here you are, a little the worse for wear, it appears, but alive. So I must conclude that you prevailed; a general chosen by the illustrious First General Esshk, and elevated to stand before the Celestial Mother herself. How could it be otherwise? But then, the very first question I asked you does arise again,” Shighat said, his voice turning deceptively mild. “Why are you here, instead of driving the prey beyond Madras, and across the deadly sea? And since you are here, instead of where you belong,
why are you not
dead
?”

It dawned on Halik then that Shighat had been toying with him. Of
course
he knew. Refugees had fled before Halik's retreating force in the
thousands
. Comparatively few had remained under his “protection.”

Halik hacked to clear his throat, knowing that the next few moments were crucial. “Before I continue and make my report, can you tell me what you know of the progress of the war against the, ah, ‘prey'?”

Shigat stepped back and regarded him. Then he looked at the generals, who had said nothing thus far. He blinked again and cocked his head. “Not that I can see how it could possibly matter to you, but there has been no word in a great while. No ships have touched our ports since the passage of the unnatural hatchling warriors that marched to join you.” He snorted. “This is not unusual. The sea eats ships,” he said simply, “and there is a war.”

“No word for months, even with a war, must surely strike you strangely?”

Shighat didn't reply, and Halik nodded. “Then I shall give you word of a war you cannot possibly imagine: a war of machines and fire and noise and blood so deep it cannot be waded through.
Bones!
” he said harshly, “protruding from the gouged and mangled earth as thickly as grass stubble after the passage of a herd of food beasts because the bodies of neither side could be recovered, even to be eaten, because the fighting raged so long without pause upon
that same tortured ground
!” He shifted his gaze to the line of generals, gawking openmouthed. “My army was
not
destroyed, though it was only through the most amazing circumstances that I can make that claim. Yes,” he continued, “Kurokawa
was
defeated, his ‘indestructible' fleet annihilated by means I did not see but can certainly imagine, based on the terrible weapons and ferocious tactics the enemy you still call ‘prey' inflicted on my force! Yes, I was driven back from Madras and harried all across India until I brought my army across the frontier into the regency of Persia. We guard its borders as we speak!” He looked back at Shighat. “And there is
more
. The enemy has crossed the terrible sea with the same mighty fleet that destroyed Kurokawa and brought the same destruction I described upon the Celestial City at Madagascar, the Celestial Palace erected there, and the Celestial Mother herself! Yes!” he snapped at Shighat, who recoiled from the words and his tone. “The Giver of Life is dead!”

“But . . . ,” one of the generals managed. “That . . . cannot be!”

“It is the truth,” Halik enunciated relentlessly. “General Esshk has
retired—much as I was forced to do—across the Go Away Strait, to rally forces on the mainland. I suspect there has been more fighting by now, but know nothing beyond what I have said.”

Shighat turned away, his robe rising to reveal the plumage that had lain flat against his tail in fear. For a very long moment, he merely stared into one of the braziers, the muscles in his wrinkled neck working beneath the skin. With great effort, he managed not to let his crest lay down upon his head. Finally, he turned to face Halik. “My brother Ragak, Regent Consort of Sofesshk, foresaw the calamity you detail,” he said softly. “He warned General Esshk what would happen if he persisted with his unwholesome . . . experiments. I sent him word of what I saw when the hatchlings arrived, and pledged him my support. I pray only it is not too late and that Ragak has supplanted Esshk, to lead us until a new Celestial Mother can rise.” His voice rose. “
We
did not rise to rule the world by changing what we are each time we met new prey! We devoured it in the swarms that made us what we are!” He faced his generals, his eyes blazing bright. “See? You see? It is just as I foretold! These . . . innovations have savaged us, and ultimately cost us everything we hold most sacred, even our Giver of Life!” His head whipped around to face Halik, but when he spoke, his voice was softer. “It is not your fault,” he proclaimed, his tone a parody of sadness. “You are yet another of Esshk's broken tools. I know what you were, what you were born to be, and you cannot be held responsible for your failure. Tell me, how many warriors remain to you; pure,
proper
warriors, untainted by the malignancy of innovation that has ruined you just as surely as the helpless, marching wretches that joined you in the East?”

Halik took a deep breath, but cast his eyes downward. “Perhaps twenty thousands, Lord.”

“Very well,” Shighat said, his voice now infused with a similar benevolence to what Halik once heard in Tsalka's. Just as false? He now wondered.

“Then, General Halik, I require that you return to your army without delay and send that . . . untainted portion to meet me on the march. The rest—there cannot be many, I imagine—must be . . .” He paused, reconsidering his words. “May end their suffering at last. They
have
suffered, as have you; I heard it in your voice and saw it in your eyes. Relieve
yourself
of your suffering, General Halik,” he said gently. “Let me avenge it for you
and carry on from here.” He spoke louder. “India and Ceylon have no regent,” he said. “
I
must occupy that void, and drive the prey as we were meant to do!” He motioned to the general who'd escorted Halik and Sigg into the massive tent. “Go with them,” he whispered, but Halik heard. “Make sure it is done. So great is their aberration, I fear . . . disobedience.” He glanced meaningfully at Halik.

“What are you called?” Halik asked the general quietly, as though he were subdued by misery, as the three of them stepped through the shuffling horde, back toward the waiting cart and the—miraculously—still living neekis.

“I am General Yikkit,” the creature said.

“You bring no guards?”

“No. You have guards, and I doubt more would fit—or be willing to ride in your contrivance.”

Halik stopped and looked at him. “But you will? Aren't you concerned that I might be disobedient?”

Yikkit regarded him carefully, his eyes furtively casting about. “I will. And I confess I am concerned about a great many things of late. Whether your possible disobedience is one of them or not is somewhat dependent upon how it might manifest itself, and toward whom. You are not the only admirer of General Esshk and his methods in this army. Tell me, did you speak the truth earlier? About everything?”

“Yes.”

Yikkit appeared to consider that. “And
do
you intend to be disobedient? Will you actually destroy your army and yourself as Regent Consort Shighat commanded?”

“I believe his was more of a request,” Halik replied lightly, but felt a rushing sensation in his chest.

“You know it was not.”

Halik took another long breath and looked closely at Yikkit, his hand straying toward the sword at his side. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I will probably not choose to do so.”

“Then what will you do?”

Halik exhaled and watched the passing thousands for several moments. “I suppose that I and my army—which is far more capable than Lord Shighat can imagine—will have to defend our right to exist, from any army or regent that would dispute that,” he answered, his hand grasping his
sword hilt. It might be inconvenient if he had to kill Yikkit here, now, but sudden murderous quarrels between generals happened on occasion.

Yikkit nodded brusquely and stepped more quickly toward the cart. “That is what I thought,” he said. “Good.”

Halik was taken aback. “Why?” he asked simply, and General Yikkit stopped.

“Because I now see what you have seen, and such as Shighat can never recognize. Your eyes
do
reflect great suffering, but also vast experience.” He jerked his head at Captain Sigg. “As do his.” He was silent a moment, standing by the wheel of the cart. “I began as you,” he confessed, barely audible. “A mere sport fighter, also elevated by First General Esshk himself. Unlike you, I was given no command of my own, but was sent here to reason with Regent Consort Shighat. I was not successful,” he added bitterly. “I began to imagine I was alone with my deviant thoughts and strove to conceal them. How else could I remain so close to Shighat, let alone survive? But your eyes also reflect your thoughts, Lord General,” he said, significantly acknowledging Halik as his superior for the first time. “Thoughts like mine. Most in your position would gladly destroy themselves as Shighat expects, to escape their embittered misery, which is all that Shighat observed. But perhaps I alone could see your mind when he gave you leave to do so. Your eyes no longer pretended to gaze at him with the deference due a regent consort of the Empire, beloved of the Giver of Life. They beheld him as their prey.”