DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (209 page)

The old Kaliit bowed his head again, having no resolve to fight back against the God-Voice. For indeed, the guilt was there, all about him, like the black wings of despair. There was no escape from it, not out there, trying to rebuild that which was lost, nor in here, hiding in the darkness from the truth.

“You know that many of the remaining Chezhou-Lei seek answers, of course,” Chezru Douan remarked offhandedly. “And many others vow revenge and hope that you will send them all off on a journey to the Mountains of Fire.”

That last bit brought Timig’s head swinging up again to stare at Douan. Perhaps that was the course. To avenge the dead by eliminating the wretched Jhesta Tu altogether! “If you would lend me your army, I could turn defeat into a great victory,” he dared to say.

Again came that mocking laughter. “Victory?” Douan asked incredulously. “Victory over whom? The Jhesta Tu? But they are not enemies of mine, nor of Behren, unless they have begun a march of which I am not aware.”

“A Jhesta Tu mystic fought at Dharyan, against Yatol Grysh,” said Timig. “And that same mystic was back at the Walk of Clouds, engaging in battle, according to those who have returned. Surely that—”

“Means nothing to me,” Chezru Douan finished. “The Jhesta Tu are better left in their mountain home, unbothered and unbothering. I’ll not awaken the dragon, Kaliit Timig. That, I believe, is more your manner of leading.”

Timig squinted against the sting of those words.

“Perhaps I erred in sending my twenty-square behind your warriors,” Chezru Douan admitted, but he retracted the words immediately, for it would not do for one who spoke directly to Yatol to make such mistakes. “But then again, had I not sent the soldiers, then none of your Chezhou-Lei would have escaped, and common soldiers are far more easily replaced than are your elite warriors.

“And so it sits fully with you, Kaliit Timig,” Douan remarked. “I allowed you your folly, though it was against that which I knew to be true, because of your insistence that honor be upheld, whatever the cost. What is the honorable course for you now, I wonder? You have failed in your capacity, of that there can be no doubt. Do you believe that you should continue to lead the remaining Chezhou-Lei? Or are you too much a coward to take the only honorable course before you?”

Again came that gasp from behind him, Merwan Ma apparently as stunned by the heartless words as was the Kaliit.

Chezru Douan merely chuckled again and exited, slowly closing the door behind him.

Kaliit Timig sat there for a long while, the God-Voice’s words mingling with his own demons of guilt, all of it together taking his gaze inevitably toward the beautifully crafted curving sword that sat on a decorated stand at the side of the room.

Hardly even noticing the movement, the battered old man went to the sword and stared at it hard. Even in the dim light, its blade seemed to gleam with strength. Timig reached his hand up to feel the cool metal, wrapped a thousand times over itself. His was an ancient sword, passed down through the warrior generations, and so it had seen many, many battles, wearing away the top layers, making its edge even finer.

Kaliit Timig held the blade up before him horizontally, studying the intricate runes carved in the metal.

He looked back to the door once, considering the words of the God-Voice and knowing that they rang with truth.

Kaliit Timig walked back to the center of the room, placed the butt of his magnificent sword on the floor, then propped the razor-sharp tip against the hollow of his breast. He had failed; he could not deny it any longer, nor could he hope to redeem himself within the Chezhou-Lei order.

With a nod, the man let himself fall forward.

N
ews of Kaliit Timig’s death reached Chom Deiru the next day, and did not surprise the Chezru Chieftain in the least. In fact, Douan was quite pleased by the turn of events, for this suicide would allow him to continue to lay the blame in whole upon Timig’s shoulders.

That was all that he truly cared about at that time. Since the disaster at the Mountains of Fire, several of the Yatols overseeing the surrounding areas had been sending screaming emissaries to Jacintha, pleading for more soldiers in case the dragon came after them, and many more had taken up the cry of panic.

But to Douan the defeat was no tremendously important incident. He had a line of couriers spread from the Mountains of Fire all the way to Jacintha, and reports came in every few days. None of those, not one in the months since the disaster, spoke of any ominous activity in the land of the Jhesta Tu. Certainly none had reported any dragons flying about!

The Jhesta Tu had thinned the Chezhou-Lei order considerably, and the loss of leaders to Douan’s army was no small thing. But To-gai had been tamed again, it appeared, by Yatol Grysh’s cunning feint to defeat the rogue Ashwarawu, and all seemed quiet in the northern kingdom, with no appreciable shifts in policy against Behren after the ascension of the new Father Abbot, Fio Bou-raiy.

Thus, Yakim Douan spent the summer, God’s Year 842, in the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear, about the lands of Entel, traveling informally and in relative
peace, even beginning to entertain again thoughts that his time of Transcendence was drawing near.

B
rynn took a deep breath—several, in fact. There before her lay the first village she had entered on her return to To-gai, a place whose name, Telliqik, she had only recently heard. For the last few months, she and her four unlikely companions had traveled the length and breadth of the steppes, stopping at every village they could find, with Brynn then going in to spread the word about the Dragon of To-gai, about how she would lead the To-gai-ru to freedom, but only if they all joined in with her. Truly it pained the anxious woman to spend these days in relative peace and quiet. After the victory at the Mountains of Fire, with the Chezhou-Lei shattered, it seemed as if Behren was ripe to be plucked.

Belli’mar Juraviel had counseled the woman for patience, though, had reminded her that their enemy remained formidable. And though many villagers had witnessed the great victory and the sheer power of the dragon, communication throughout the land would be slow and inexact, with the story likely changing from one town to another, even from one person to another. The companions would count on that inaccuracy to work in their favor as word spread back to Behren, but they knew that it could well be a liability if it was not parsed correctly on its path through To-gai.

And so they had flown out upon Agradeleous, and the dragon had even taken Runtly along, holding the pony in a harness the Jhesta Tu mystics had fashioned, journeying from town to town to begin the quiet resistance that would signal the start of Brynn’s campaign against the Chezru Chieftain.

It was called
Autumnal Nomaduc
, the Autumn Walkaway, and such an action was not unprecedented in To-gai-ru history. Many times before, when one tribe had conquered another, the survivors of the conquered tribe would simply wander away from their conquerors, moving out into the open steppes. Never before had it been tried across all of To-gai, but never before had the conqueror been the Behrenese, and never before had the rebellion leader been an elven-trained ranger, riding atop a dragon!

The ranger stooped over, as if weary and road-worn, and certainly less threatening, and hitched the cowl of her worn cloak up over her head. She murmured to herself in a gruff peasant accent as she approached the gate, and peeked out under the cowl only once, to note the strange looks coming back at her from the guards.

“Oh, but me wagon is lost, and all me poor horses,” she said, closing to stand right before the two Behrenese.

“You had a wagon?” one asked.

“A wagon, a husband, and a few friends, I had!” Brynn snapped at him, turning a wild eye his way and moving very close. She didn’t really recognize the man, but feared that he might know her, for she had stood tall and distinct when last she was there, that year ago, when she had killed Yatol Daek and Dee’dahk.

“And you lost them?” the man asked with a smirk.

“Killed on the road!” Brynn screeched. “By robbers … so many damned robbers! They took me wagon, and killed me friends. Get yer weapons, soldiers! Protectors! Get yer weapons and go out and kill them to death!”

The man was patting the air to try to calm her, and was obviously trying to hold back a smile. Robbers were no major catastrophe in the unruly steppes, Brynn knew, except of course to those victimized. And she knew as well that these guards wouldn’t be quick to send out any patrols, certainly not on the word and plea of a lowly To-gai-ru woman.

“Now tell me where this happened,” the soldier bade her.

“Fifteen days o’ walking,” Brynn said, waggling a finger in his face.

“Fifteen days?”

“Fifteen!” Brynn cried. “Now, ye get yer fellows and run south, and ye’ll find them. Kill them to death.”

Now the man did chuckle, as did his companion. “We will speak with Yatol Tornuk about it.”

“I’ll be seeing him!”

“No,” the man cried back, and then he calmed, and tried again to calm her. “No, good woman. We will speak with him. You just go in and find yourself a place to rest, and get some food.”

Brynn stared at him hard, wild-eyed even, but then she slipped past, entering the village.

Her relief was huge when she entered the common room to find the place bristling with To-gai-ru, several familiar faces—including two in particular—among them. Brynn made her way to a corner table and slid into a chair beside Tsolona and Barachuk.

She looked up from under the cowl, smiling widely, then pulled the hood back enough so that they could see her clearly.

“Ah, Brynn!” Tsolona said quietly, and she cupped the young woman’s chin in her hands, then bent in and kissed her on the cheek. “So much have we worried for you.”

“The Dragon of To-gai, returned for a visit,” whispered Barachuk, leaning in across the table.

His reference to her in that manner nearly knocked Brynn right over. How could he know?

“You have come to tell us of the
nomaduc
,” the surprising Barachuk reasoned. “Ah, but it is already in place here in Telliqik. The word outdistances you, and many are eager to follow the way of resistance.”

Brynn just sat there, shaking her head.

“Were you really astride a dragon?” Tsolona asked, after looking around to make sure that there were no Behrenese soldiers, or To-gai-ru informants, nearby.

“It is a long story,” Brynn replied.

“Then stay with us this evening and tell us your tale,” said Barachuk. “And we will tell your tales to our comrades out in the steppes, in whatever manner you
wish them related.”

Brynn smiled, knowing well that she had fine allies there. She nodded, and stood to leave, and the other two were right behind her as she exited the common room.

The three chatted until late into the night, with Brynn relating the tale of the battle at the Mountains of Fire honestly and openly. She was surprised to learn that the couple had already met one of her elvish companions. She bade the couple not to mention Juraviel or Cazzira, though, fearing that her story might overwhelm any would-be soldiers.

“You can have your old bed back,” Tsolona said to her, the hour well past midnight.

Brynn considered the offer, remembering the fine times she had spent with these two, whom she regarded almost as surrogate parents. “I must be out this very night,” she answered. “I have but three days to make the final preparations for the
Autumnal Nomaduc
. Everything will move quickly after that.”

“You will assemble your army?”

“As many as will join.”

“And then strike at the Behrenese within To-gai?” Barachuk pressed. “Like the new dog, Tornuk, who replaced the dog you killed?”

Brynn understood the man’s eagerness, for the name alone marked the new Yatol of Telliqik as To-gai-ru. To the proud To-gai-ru people, that betrayal was even worse than the invasion of the Behrenese.

“We will find our ways to gain our freedom, and will pay back those who have brought so much grief to us,” Brynn promised. She moved over and kissed Barachuk, then turned to Tsolona, wrapping her in a great hug for a long, long time.

And then she was back out into the dark To-gai night, with Juraviel, Cazzira, Pagonel, and Agradeleous, laying the final plans for the Walkaway.

Three nights later, streaks of fire highlighted the To-gai sky, Brynn astride her dragon flying the length and breadth of the steppes, her fiery sword held high and the fire accentuated every so often by a tremendous gout of the dragon’s fiery breath. She flew up very high so the spectacle could be seen from far, far away.

That night, taking the signal, tens of thousands of To-gai-ru slipped out of their respective settlements for the safety of the darkened steppes. There were skirmishes in some towns, where guards caught on to the escape, but in all but a few of the outposter settlements, where the To-gai-ru were outnumbered by the Behrenese many times over, the To-gai-ru got out, moving to appointed meeting places, where new tribes were formed.

Y
akim Douan seemed as if he would simply explode. He sat in his chair, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened at his sides, and he trembled so violently that his teeth were actually chattering.

Carwan Pestle, who had delivered the terrible news from Dharyan, looked to Merwan Ma with alarm, and the Chezru Chieftain’s attendant motioned for the
man to step back from the leader’s chair.

“Not again,” Yakim Douan growled, his jaw clenched so tight that he hardly seemed able to get the words out of his mouth.

“Yatol Grysh begs your pardon, God-Voice,” Carwan Pestle offered, bowing repeatedly. “He wished not to trouble you with such unpleasantness as this, but he fears that we cannot ignore the desertion.”

“All of them?” Douan asked.

“Yes, God-Voice,” Pestle replied. “All who were not captured trying to escape. We have soldiers scouring the steppes; the outposters are banding together for defense.”

“And have you recaptured any of the missing To-gai-ru?”