Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (20 page)

“
Tumhe marittha bahuumaanena ca vikkamena. N’atthi uttara pasamsaa
(You died with honor and bravery. There is no higher praise),” Kusala said in the ancient tongue, before striking his dagger against a flake of flint and setting the pyre aflame.

Meanwhile, the Pabbajja returned from the forest, their tridents glowing mightily in the darkness made even deeper by the eclipse. One came forward to greet Kusala and Utu. Though his appearance was bizarre, he spoke with eloquence.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bruugash, overlord of this cabal. We have destroyed all remnants of the enemy. Tonight, you are under the protection of the Pabbajja and are in no further danger.”

“I am Kusala, chieftain of the Asēkhas,” he said, bowing. “On behalf of us all, I thank you for your help. But I admit that I’m confused. The Tugars believed you to be allies of Avici.”

“To serve our own purposes, we have feigned an alliance,” said Bruugash, his eyes wriggling as he spoke. “In reality, we will join with anyone who would help us to rid
Kala-Vana
(Dark Forest) of our enemies. When the time comes, my people will aid you again, though the
Kalakhattiyas
(black knights) do not love us and often hunt us for sport.”

“The knights of Nissaya are stern and haughty, but they are not evil,” Kusala said. “When we reach the fortress, I will report what I have witnessed to the king. After that, the hunting will stop, as long as you remain true.”

Now it was Bruugash’s turn to bow, bending stiffly at the waist. Then he waddled away and shouted orders to his cabal. Soon several thousand Pabbajja encircled the Asēkhas and surviving freed slaves. Even so, they did not sleep well that night, though it was not fear that disturbed them as much as grief over the fallen.

Kusala spoke long with Utu, listening to the tale of his encounter with the Pabbajja. Afterward, he went off by himself and sat cross-legged, watching the final moments of the eclipse. His mind kept drifting to Torg and his companions.
Where are you now, my king
?
Will you ever return to us
? Finally Kusala slept.

The next morning was even hotter than the preceding day. The company, now greatly reduced, began yet another torturous march, its pace frustratingly slow. The Asēkhas took turns supporting the wounded, several of whom had to be carried. Kusala now feared it would take three or even four more days to reach the fortress, unless mounted knights were to find them and provide aid.

The Pabbajja stayed with them, resembling a herd of two-legged sheep. They charmed and amused the freed slaves, who thoroughly enjoyed their companionship. There was something comforting about the homeless people, a radiating calmness that touched even the Asēkhas.

Utu seemed the most affected. Suddenly the snow giant was charming and gregarious, stomping from person to person while shouting encouragement. He also took turns carrying the injured, often taking one on each broad shoulder.

Even so, by nightfall they had managed just six leagues and still were almost twenty leagues from Nissaya. But Iddhi-Pada, the great road that led from Avici to Jivita, was within easy reach. Once there, they were almost certain to encounter assistance. On the west side of the forest, the road still would be safe—though in half a month, Kusala guessed, the army of Invictus would pass this way during its inevitable approach to the fortress.

They rested until midnight before continuing their march. The moon was nearly full, but there was no sign of anything peculiar in its appearance. They stumbled three more leagues, skirting the western border of the forest. The Pabbajja followed tirelessly, their tridents providing as much light as torches. If anyone saw them pass, they dared not reveal themselves.

Kusala felt safe, but frustrated. He needed to meet with King Henepola as soon as possible. Afterward, he would travel by himself to Anna, stopping first at the haven to gather the noble ones, as Torg had ordered, though it galled Kusala to remove himself from the place he would be needed most.

A short time before dawn, while they ate and rested again, Bruugash approached Kusala.

“We must leave you,” the Pabbajja overlord said. “The road is near, and we are not welcome. I know you would attempt to protect us, but the
Kalakhattiyas
are quick to anger, and I fear some of us might be harmed before you could convince them of our intentions.”

Kusala placed his hand on top of Bruugash’s furry head. “If this war is won and I survive it, I will return to Java myself and help your people regain their homeland. If I do not survive, a chieftain will come in my place. This I pledge to you.”

Bruugash reached up and put his gnarled hand on Kusala’s chest. “If you do such a thing, you will not regret it.”

Then he turned and led the Pabbajja into the woods, where they vanished like ghosts.

THE COMPANY reached Iddhi-Pada a short time before noon. Kusala and his companions were still near enough to Java to see where the road dove eastward into the Dark Forest and disappeared into darkness. Westward, the road shined like a beacon of hope in the late-morning light.

If the Pabbajja still watched, they were well-concealed. Just in case, Kusala and the others waved farewell, hoping they would one day meet their new friends again.

Kusala turned and trudged along the road. Though thoroughly exhausted, the company began to make better time. More than fifty paces wide in most places, Iddhi-Pada was a raised, five-cubit-thick layer of sand, packed dirt, and stone blocks that was durable and easy to traverse, whether by foot, wagon, horse, camel, or even elephant.

Initially, they saw no sign of activity, which was not typical even this far east of the fortress. Merchants from Senasana made a fine living trading goods with Nissaya, and they usually were numerous on the road, as were farmers from as far north as Lake Ti-ratana. Even in times of peace, the black knights patrolled this area frequently, making sure that whatever evils dwelled within the forest remained there. But now it was clear that the fortress had called in its forces. Nissaya’s only hope against the army of Mala was to slam shut its great doors and prepare for siege. Outside their walls, the outnumbered black knights, despite their renowned prowess in battle, stood little chance against the Chain Man’s minions.

Once again, Kusala sent forth Asēkha scouts. The newly effusive Utu volunteered to go with them, but Kusala beseeched him to remain with the company, telling the snow giant that he would be needed if they were attacked. Secretly, Kusala desired to be present when the time finally came to introduce the giant to emissaries from the fortress. In times of war, the black knights could be distrustful and quick tempered—and Kusala was certain that none of them had seen a snow giant, except in drawings stored in Nissaya’s vast library. Kusala wasn’t sure how they would react to Yama-Utu, but he didn’t want them mistaking him for a Kojin—or even worse, Mala himself.

Churikā was the first to return, a flush of red on her darkly tanned cheeks. “Chieftain, large portions of the road have been razed less than a league from where you stand. The stone blocks have been torn from the ground and piled into jagged walls extending a dozen paces or more beyond the sides of the road. Half a mile beyond the first wall is a second one—and a third after that.”

“King Henepola has been keeping his vassals busy, it would seem,” Kusala said. “I saw none of this during my last visit to the fortress less than a month ago. This will buy Nissaya time, though not much more than a few days. The cave trolls and Stone-Eaters will quickly reopen a way.”

“At least this explains why we haven’t encountered anyone,” Tāseti said. “We might have to march a ways yet before finding aid.”

Kusala sighed. “I was hoping help would come sooner. Time is short.”

“I could carry you to Nissaya,” Yama-Utu said. “I can run faster than any horse, and I do not tire. These walls of broken stone will not deter me.”

“Consider the snow giant’s offer, for all our sakes,” Tāseti said. “You no longer need to protect us. It’s unlikely we’ll encounter dangers other than our own sore feet and stiff backs.”

Kusala relented, partly out of frustration, and partly because he knew that it meant Yama-Utu would be with him when they first encountered the knights of Nissaya.

“If you would carry me, I would be most grateful,” he said. “But when the black knights approach, let me do the talking
 . . .
please. They can be rude to strangers, especially ones as large as you.”

“Rudeness seems common among the little people,” Utu responded, but he was smiling as he said it.

DURING HIS LONG life, Kusala had ridden on the backs of camels, horses, elephants, mountain eagles, and emus, to name a few creatures common to the world—but never on a giant. Utu had not exaggerated when he said he could run faster than a horse. Each of his strides covered twenty cubits or more, and when they came to the first wall, the giant leapt over it with ridiculous ease. The wind blasting in Kusala’s face caused his eyes to water. In what seemed like a very short time, they reached the first of the three remaining Asēkhas.

“Return to the company,” Kusala shouted as they blazed past the amazed scout. He gave the same order to the others. After that, he and Utu were alone on the road. Now it was midafternoon, and they were within ten leagues of the fortress. At this rate, Kusala guessed they would reach Nissaya before dark.

Iddhi-Pada dipped and swelled, but for the most part it gradually ascended from east to west. Because of this, the fortress, when approached from the Gray Plains, was not visible from a distance, while from the west it could be seen many leagues away. Kusala and Utu came upon a stretch of road that had been demolished, its stones disgorged and cast recklessly about, forming a spiny surface nearly impossible for a large army to traverse. More than just muscle had performed this work. Nissaya’s conjurers had played a role in the destruction. This amazed Kusala. And also dismayed him. Why go to so much effort, when it would do little more than slow Mala down?

Regardless, the giant bounded over the rubble with ease, pouncing from broken boulder to jagged rock with the grace of a mountain goat. Once past the wreckage, they continued at an astounding pace, witnessing no further damage to the road. Either Nissaya wanted to keep the last few leagues clear, or it had run out of time. Kusala also noticed that the fertile fields bordering the road had been razed, and that nearby villages had been burned to the ground. The keepers of Nissaya were determined to leave as little as possible for the invading army in terms of food, supplies, and building materials—a devastating but necessary expenditure.

Approximately five leagues from the fortress, Kusala and Utu finally encountered a mounted squadron of black knights. When the Nissayans saw the giant and its rider, they rushed forward and encircled the unusual pair, their black destriers stomping rhythmically on the stone. The knights were lightly armored, each wearing a coat of plates over a mail hauberk—both of which were black, matching their ebony skin and short-cropped hair. All the knights were at least a span shorter than Kusala, but they were thick in the chest, arm, and leg—and armed with powerful crossbows.

Kusala climbed slowly off the snow giant’s back, being careful not to reach for his sword. He was relieved to see amusement in Utu’s expression. He had been afraid what might happen if the giant were to do anything threatening, though Kusala worried more for the welfare of the knights than for his companion.

Kusala placed his palms together and bowed low to the ground, then stood upright and folded his arms across his chest. He knew he would be recognized, but out of respect, he formally introduced himself.

“I am Chieftain-Kusala, leader of the Asēkhas and longtime servant of Nissaya. My companion is Yama-Utu, a snow giant from Okkanti, who comes to offer assistance in the war against Mala. It would be wise for you to accept. I have seen few his equal.”

One warhorse was urged forward, bearing a proud knight with keen black eyes. The knight dismounted and came face to face with the chieftain, pausing briefly before dropping to one knee and lowering his head. When he looked up, he was smiling.

“Chieftain-Kusala, it is with honor that I greet you. May I rise?”

“Of course, sir.”

The knight stood and clasped Kusala’s forearm, in Tugarian fashion. “I am Palak, a senior commander of the
Kalakhattiyas
. We are pleased that you have returned, though we hoped Lord Torgon would be with you. You set out from the fortress several weeks ago to find him. Were you not successful?”

Kusala sighed. “I mean no offense, Commander Palak, but time is short, and I do not wish to repeat the same story several times. Please take me to your king, and you can hear all that I have to say at that time. As for Yama-Utu, do you bid him welcome?”

The commander stared with wonder at the snow giant’s broad face. “Any friend of Kusala is welcome in Nissaya.” He bowed again.

Utu also bowed. “You will not regret your decision. When Mala assails your walls, I will be there to greet him.”

“What little hope we have of victory has grown more on this day,” Palak responded.

Before they continued toward the fortress, Kusala told the commander about the freed slaves and asked him to send help as quickly as possible.

“There are enough horses among you to carry them to safety, if you were to ride in pairs, though your own barriers will make the journey more difficult. What you have done to Iddhi-Pada would be quite impressive, if it were not so depressing.”

“Everything about this war is depressing,” Palak said. “How can we be expected to prevail against such evil? Nonetheless, we will meet Mala in battle. As for you and the snow giant, you will enter the gates as my guests, and from there I will take you to the king.

“As for your other companions, do not fear. The rest of my squadron will ride to them and carry them to safety—and once within our walls, they will be provided with food and shelter. I would also say warmth, but there is precious little of that nowadays. The chill of doom consumes our hearts. As always, Nissaya will bear the first and mightiest strike. And as always, few will comprehend how hard we toil in the name of freedom, both for ourselves and others.”

“You receive more credit than you know,” Kusala said. “But you are not the only ones who sacrifice in the name of freedom. You will not stand alone. The Tugars will be with you.”

“Some of you, but not all,” Palak said. And then he urged his horse forward.

Despite carrying Kusala, Utu had to slow his pace considerably in order for Palak’s destrier to keep up. As dusk approached, the trio came to the peak of a great swell in the road—and for the first time, their view of Nissaya was no longer obstructed. They still were a league from the main gate, but even at this distance the fortress was an awe-inspiring sight. The snow giant slammed to a halt and stared, his green eyes aglow.

“I have heard tales of Nissaya,” Utu said, “but they pale in comparison to what stands before us. Surely, not even Mala and his army can hope to assail such a thing. They might as well attempt to defeat a mountain.”

“The grandeur of Nissaya moves any who view it for the first time,” Palak said. “There is no greater stronghold in the known world, nor has there been since our ancestors first occupied it more than twenty millennia ago. In all that time, the black fortress has never fallen. But neither has it faced an enemy of such rumored might.”

“The might is rumored no longer,” Kusala said. “Lord Torgon looked upon Mala’s host and spoke to me of its immensity.”

As they continued their approach, a host of knights galloped out to greet them, cheering the arrival of the Asēkha chieftain and the snow giant as if an army had come to join them. The land surrounding the fortress swarmed with knights, squires, and vassals. Kusala also recognized Tugars scattered among them, their gracefulness obvious even from a distance. But compared to the immensity of the fortress, they all seemed as tiny as ants.

Indeed, Kusala knew that Nissaya was as close to impenetrable as any fortress that had ever existed on Triken. It was situated on a rounded body of black granite that rose from the ground like an inverted bowl, its surface gently ascending more than six hundred cubits above the surrounding terrain. Much like the stone walls of Duccarita, the bulwarks and some of the buildings of Nissaya were mainly the work of nature, but the knights and their ancestors had spent thousands of years hammering, chiseling, and sculpting the igneous rock into the most majestic walls and towers in the world.

The base of the mammoth outcrop, which guarded the Gap of Gati’s eastern maw, extended deep into the ground, its bedrock interlaced with a spider web of caverns and passageways, a few of which extended outward more than a dozen leagues—north to hidden places in Mahaggata or south to Kolankold. The secret entrances and exits were known only to the knights, and if an enemy ever did breach the walls, at least some of the defenders of Nissaya still would be able to escape to the mountains without the likelihood of pursuit. Any who tried to follow their flight without knowing the way would become lost within the intricate catacombs.

Iddhi-Pada swept past the fortress, continuing westward through the gap until encountering Lake Hadaya, but a hundred paces north of the portion of the road upon which they now stood, the black granite of Nissaya began its slow rise from the otherwise level terrain. At first, the stone floor was only a cubit above the plain. But even then, grass and vegetation ceased to exist, except for a voracious form of lichen that gnawed at the stone, creating depressions that gathered soil and dust, which in turn became home to gnarled bushes and miniature trees. Some of the depressions filled with rain water, forming pools within which edible shrimp lived and bred. And in the summer, a strange species of grasshopper abounded, becoming a noisy nuisance to the human inhabitants of Nissaya. Voles, snakes, and songbirds inhabited crannies in the stone year-round, serving as prey for thousands of black-feathered hawks that circled the skies above the fortress like a ring of storm clouds.

The black granite was too smooth and slippery for the passage of wagons and horses, especially when wet. So the Nissayans had constructed a broad avenue of pebbles and sand that led from Iddhi-Pada to the only visible entrance to the fortress. As dusk took firm hold, the unusual trio made its way toward the first gate. The toughened soles of the snow giant’s feet crunched on the crumbled surface. Thousands of black knights cheered their arrival, both from the ground and the towering battlements. Kusala also could hear the high-pitched screeches of Tugars.

Three concentric walls of black granite encircled the fortress. Each had been given a name from the ancient tongue: the exterior wall Balak, the middle wall Ott, the inner wall Hakam. Each was a natural bastion of stone that human hands had sculpted only on the battlements, inner stairways, and tunneled entrances.