The Archer's Heart (57 page)

“I am Ohendru, my lord,” the third man spoke.

Jandu nodded. Keshan emerged from the tent and then sat beside Lazro. He stared at the young man’s wound, but did not touch him.

Jandu watched Keshan nervously hesitate on the edge of action. He clearly waited for permission, but Lazro was obviously in too much pain to realize he needed to give it. Finally, Jandu spoke.

 “If Keshan is to tend to your arm, he needs to touch you.”

Lazro nodded.

“Do you understand what you are doing by allowing him to touch you? Are you willing to become tainted?”

Lazro nodded again. “My lord, I think my wound will hurt me more than Lord Keshan’s tainted caste.”

Jandu and Keshan both laughed. Jandu’s tension subsided. He leaned back against his log as Keshan whispered shartic prayers and rubbed herbs into Lazro’s wounds. Jandu asked the men about the war, about the Uru camp, and about Darvad, and they honestly responded, enthusiastically revealing details about the layout of the camp.

The three soldiers helped Jandu and Keshan wash their pots and tend to the fire, so it seemed natural for Jandu to offer them a place to stay in the camp.

“I cannot guarantee anything about the future,” Jandu warned. “But as long as you are in my camp, I will protect you, deserter or no. Caste means nothing to me now, so you will be respected here for your own merits.” As he said the words, Jandu couldn’t help but smile. Five years ago, he would have laughed out loud if someone had predicted he would have said such a thing. Jandu went to his tent, and returned with a single blanket. He gave it to Lazro.

“You may use this blanket if you would like,” he offered. He watched the soldiers carefully. “Keshan and I sleep together.”

The soldiers looked at each other immediately. Lazro blanched, but then nodded his acceptance. The other two soldiers seemed to follow his lead. They busied themselves with cleaning the campsite, but didn’t raise a word of objection.

“Good night,” Jandu offered, letting out the breath he was holding.

“Good night, Prince,” Warash responded. Lazro and Ohendru also bid them a good night.

Keshan entered the tent quietly after Jandu, lighting his way with a butter lamp. After Jandu and Keshan settled themselves under their remaining blanket, Jandu turned to Keshan, and found him grinning.

“What?” Jandu whispered.

Keshan buried his face against Jandu’s shoulder to muffle his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Jandu demanded.

Keshan’s eyes danced with joy. “That was a very subtle speech.”

 “I was testing their loyalty.”

“Good decision. Testing the loyalty of enemy deserters we just met by declaring we’re sexual deviants.” Keshan laughed again.

“What would you have me do? Turn them away? If the Urus find them, they’ll be executed. If the Parans find them, they’ll become slaves. I’m willing to give them a blanket and my protection. But in exchange, they have to accept that we’re together, and that you are not beneath them. That’s all I ask.”

Keshan kissed Jandu. His tongue flirted briefly in Jandu’s mouth, and then pulled away as he grinned once more.

“Remember when I told you that the world would change?”

Jandu nodded. “Yes. I’m glad to see you are back to remembering and believing it as well.”

“What you did out there, Jandu, was light the pyre on this era. The death of this age just officially begun. The Triya are over, starting with you, me, and those three frightened men.”

Jandu snorted. “What a pitiful beginning to the new age.”

“Wait until you see what we can become.”

“I believe in you.” Jandu pulled Keshan closer, relishing the heat of Keshan’s body.

“Believe in us. You are the one who has begun it now.”

◆◆◆

“Jandu!”

Jandu groggily awoke from his slumber. For a moment, he thought he was back in the mountains of Pagdesh again. But then he opened his eyes and saw Keshan asleep beside him, curled up in a ball and hogging all of the blanket. Jandu gently tucked a lock of hair behind Keshan’s ear, and then fumbled in the darkness for his sandals.

“Jandu!”

Jandu recognized Baram’s voice. He rushed out of the tent to see his massive brother struggling against half a dozen Yashva who had him pinned him to the ground. The three Uru deserters stood over Baram’s prone body, spears leveled. Their loyalty warmed Jandu’s heart, and calmed his nerves about this impromptu visit from his brother.

“He’s all right,” he assured the men. Warash and the others immediately lowered their weapons. The Yashva, however, held on.

“Jandu!” Baram cried, sounding almost frightened.

“Let him go,” Jandu said in broken Yashva. He had learned that much from Keshan, at least.

The Yashva immediately released Baram, and bowed to Jandu before slipping back into their world.

Baram jumped up angrily, his expression black with rage and fear.

“What the fuck was that!” He swung his fist at the ghostly bodies, but his arm simply passed through their light.

Jandu yawned, trying to pretend that his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest. “Mendraz, King of the Yashvas, has offered his allegiance to me. They are my bodyguard.”

Baram’s eyed widened. Jandu could see his excitement. But then Baram turned and glared at the deserters. “And who are these people?”

“My men,” Jandu said.

“They look like deserters,” Baram said, scowling at them.

“They’re mine now.” Jandu crossed his arms. “Have a seat.”

He and Baram moved towards the low embers of the fire. Warash, Lazro and Ohendru watched warily.

“Would you give my brother and I five minutes alone?” Jandu asked them. The three soldiers bowed, then sidled off into the darkness.

Jandu fed branches onto the coals of the fire as Baram took a seat. Baram sniffed at the empty cup beside the log, and then tossed it aside.

“What are you eating?” Baram asked gruffly.

Jandu shook his head. Of course Baram’s first question would be about food. “Rice and cheese that Suraya gave us when we left. We’re almost out.”

Baram didn’t look at him. “Here.” He stuck out his hand, in which miraculously had appeared a roll stuffed with meat and yogurt. Jandu took the roll without a word. He tore it in two and set one half aside for Keshan. Baram fed twigs into the embers of the fire and little flames leapt up. As the light increased, Jandu noticed the bandage wrapped around Baram’s left bicep.

“How’s Suraya?” Jandu asked.

“Mad at me,” Baram said. “She called me an asshole. I guess I have you to blame for encouraging such foul language.”

Jandu didn’t respond.

Baram picked at the log beneath him. “She’s also refusing any sexual favors until I apologize to you.”

Jandu snorted. “I’ve been your loving brother for twenty-nine years, and you repudiate me, but Suraya refuses to sleep with you for twenty four hours, and you are suddenly contrite.”

Baram smiled slightly. “Well, she’s hotter than you.”

Jandu sighed. “Baram, what do you want to say? It’s late, and I’m tired.”

Baram moved closer to him, then crushed him in a hug.

Jandu’s roll leaked yogurt down the front of his cotton shirt. He was annoyed by this. And then, realizing what his brother was doing, forgave him.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” Baram said.

Jandu leaned back and wiped the yogurt off his shirt “It’s all right.”

“I spoke out of shock, not out of anger,” Baram said.

“It’s fine.”

“I love you, Jandu.”

Jandu stopped wiping his chest and studied his brother’s expression. He saw honest regret in Baram’s eyes. Jandu hadn’t considered how much Baram’s rejection had hurt him, but now, seeing him genuinely penitent, affection flooded Jandu and he forgave his prior callousness. He smiled. “I love you too.”

“Even if you are a big faggot.”

Jandu continued to smile. “Thanks. So much.”

“But you have lost all your Suraya privileges, understand?”

“I wasn’t really using them, you know,” Jandu replied.

Baram added extra kindling to the fire. “Suraya’s pregnant again.”

Jandu shook his head. “God, you two work fast. Congratulations.”

Baram grinned back.

Keshan emerged from the tent, looking sleepy, with crease-lines on one cheek. Jandu couldn’t help but smile.

Keshan tensed as soon as he saw Baram. “What’s going on?”

“Baram is sharing his leftovers with us,” Jandu said. He handed Keshan his half of the roll.

“Is it poisoned?” Keshan smirked.

Baram stiffened at Keshan’s words. Baram may have made peace with Jandu, but it was obvious that it would take more time before he was ready to exchange banter with Keshan.

“I assume you two are responsible for so many of Mazar’s shartas failing today,” Baram said. He turned back to face Jandu, obviously ignoring Keshan’s remarks.

Jandu nodded. “We tried to get them all.”

“Our spies report that Mazar is furious,” Baram said. “They are planning a massive assault tomorrow, using all the celestial weapons they know.”

“You need to kill Mazar,” Keshan stated. He stared into the fire, his expression grave. “There is only one way you will win this war, and that is by removing the general of the Uru army.”

Baram shook his head. “Every time someone gets near him, he spits out a sharta. And he is well-guarded.”

“Have you tried the Tunufisharta?” Keshan asked.

Baram scowled. “Only Jandu knows it.”

“That’s a pity.” Keshan leaned back with a smirk on his face.

Jandu touched his brother’s knee. “I could speak it from here but it won’t do any good unless Mazar is in range.”

“I could drive him close to your position,” Baram said.

“He doesn’t know we’re still here in the forest?” Jandu asked.

Baram shrugged. “I’m not sure. The rumors are all over the place. Some soldiers believe you are fighting in the guise of another.”

“If Jandu was fighting, everyone would know exactly who he was,” Keshan said.

Baram threw his stick into the fire. “Look, if I can get Mazar to drive by the edge of the battlefield, can you use your sharta?”

“If he goes slowly enough,” Jandu said.

“It would be better if he stopped completely,” Keshan said. He continued to stare into the fire with a bemused grin on his face.

Jandu narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If Baram can push him into the forest, I will be able to stop Mazar long enough for you to shoot him,” Keshan told Jandu.

Jandu turned to his brother. “Can you do it?”

Baram thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I will get him to you tomorrow.”

“Good.” Keshan yawned and stretched. “Then I’m going back to bed.” He smiled at Jandu, and then withdrew back into their tent.

Jandu touched his brother’s arm. “Do you think you can bring us some more food tomorrow?”

Baram frowned at the tent, but when he turned to Jandu his expression softened. “Certainly.”

“I need enough to provision my men,” Jandu said. It felt good to say the words, to point out that he had supporters. “What will you tell Yudar?”

“As little as possible. Rishak is our general now and he’s all but said he’d take you back if it weren’t for Yudar.” Baram nodded to himself. “Just be ready for Mazar.”

“I will.”

Jandu walked with Baram back to the Paran camp, feeling a reassuring burst of pleasure, striding alongside his brother once more. Two nights ago, Jandu had thought he had lost his family. Now Baram was beside him, brusquely slapping him on the shoulder. Things would never be the same between them again, Jandu knew, but now, at least there was honesty between them and it gave Jandu hope.

“Baram. Thank you.” Jandu bent down and touched his brother’s feet in respect. In response, Baram ruffled his hair.

“You will always be my little brother, Jandu,” Baram replied with a smile. Then he turned and strode into the Paran camp.

Chapter 53

A
T DAYBREAK,
M
AZAR LED HALF OF THE
U
RU ARMY IN ONE
direction, and Tarek Amia and his allied states led their troops in the other, creating a pincer around Yudar’s location. Keshan watched the battle transpire, breathing deeply, preparing himself for another grueling day of battling shartas.

But he was more worried about Jandu, and whether he would actually kill Mazar.

Jandu had said little that morning, rising and completing his ablutions without a word. Jandu greeted the half a dozen new faces who had joined the other deserters in the dead of night. He spoke with them briefly, and offered them a little food and learned their names. Most were Chaya, though they came from both Paran and Uru forces. Jandu assigned them duties: building shelters, foraging for food and collecting water from the nearby stream.

Now, perched beside Keshan on the tree limb, Jandu was silent once more, Zandi held loosely in his hands.

“As soon as Mazar is within range, I will hold him,” Keshan told Jandu. “I’m not sure how long I will be able to maintain the curse, so you must act fast.”

“I’ll be ready.” Jandu showed no outward hesitation.

Keshan heard someone say his name, and looked down to see more deserters, pointing up at Jandu and Keshan with an expression of hope in their eyes. Several were burned from the previous days’ shartas. Keshan knew some would die before the end of the night. But for now, they looked to Jandu to save them and to treat them with respect.

The Yashva kept constant vigil in the surrounding forest, monitoring the humans, their devotion to Jandu and Keshan unwavering.

Jandu pulled an arrow from his quiver. He nocked it into place and practiced his aim. Keshan realized he’d seen this moment in time before, in a premonition when he was still just a child and then later, time after time. But in his premonition the man’s face had always been obscured, like the face of a Yashva blurred in the human world. And so he hadn’t recognized it until that small motion, when the man beside him took aim.

It was him.
Jandu.
This was the moment which would change history, that Keshan had spent his entire life striving for. This was where he was meant to be. His changed world, it wouldn’t have come from Darvad after all. Keshan had been wrong.

It was Jandu, all along. The savior of Marhavad sat beside him. Keshan’s branding, his abandonment of the Uru side of the war, it was all intended, and now, having given up his vision, Keshan’s destiny would come true after all.

Keshan had waited for this moment since he was six years old. Now, he couldn’t contain the tears of gratitude and love that filled his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jandu asked, his hard expression softening for a moment.

“Nothing,” Keshan said, smiling and wiping his eyes.

Jandu glanced down at the growing crowd of deserters. “By the time the day is over, we may have more infantry than Darvad.”

Keshan smiled down at the men. “One of them told me he joined us because of a rumor that you are forming a revolutionary army in the forest to challenge both armies and remove the distinction of caste from society altogether. The rumor even mentions demons on your side.”

“Close enough.” Jandu leaned over and kissed Keshan briefly on the lips, then surveyed his surprised troops with a

smirk, issuing his own challenge. Many of the men shifted or averted their eyes, but none of them left.

Keshan turned his attention back to the battlefield before him.

The earth was dark with gore. Mazar’s shartic rampage left a trail of severed heads, limbless corpses, and great spills of blood. Horses slipped on the remains of gutted humans, and trampled over charred bodies. Cratered ground, littered with corpses, marked where a minor sharta had been used to clear the path of foot soldiers. Bodies were scorched beyond recognition. Melted metal helmets and armor glittered amid the ash.

Almost worse than the carnage on the battlefield was the fact that the Triya did not pay the gruesome display any heed. Chariots rolled over limbs and men not even dead as they charged forth towards their targets, no longer bothering to steer clear of the wounded.

Unlike many of the warriors, who appeared weary from three days of battle, Baram still charged in top form. He abandoned his chariot and now galloped the battlefield on horseback. At first, his tactics confused Keshan. If he was trying to steer Mazar towards the forest, he was failing. But as noon came, Keshan saw logic in Baram’s frantic movements. He turned the Paran forces perpendicular to their initial line, separating the Uru army into halves.

The noise from the field and plumes of dust wafted towards the forest, and for minutes at a time, Keshan could barely make out the shapes of men and beasts in the melee. And then, at last, as Baram galloped by the forest edge, shouting insults, Keshan caught sight of Mazar riding in pursuit.

In the afternoon sunlight, Mazar’s silver armor refracted the sunlight and made him shine like a star. His silver chariot negotiated the obstacles of the field with agility and speed. Mazar’s arm constantly pulled back and released an assault of arrows in a steady, even rhythm.

 “Be ready,” Keshan told Jandu. He stood on the branch, using the central trunk to keep his balance.

Jandu nodded. He turned his arrow anxiously in his hand.

Keshan looked down, just in time to see his brother Iyestar gallop past the forest edge. Homesickness filled Keshan. But then Mazar’s white banners drew close.

Baram and his troops circled back to push Mazar’s chariot into the trees. As if sensing a trap, Mazar’s charioteer whipped the horses faster. They galloped ahead, leaving the rest of the Uru forces in the dust.

Keshan signaled to Hafed, the Yashva he was about to transform into a weapon. Still in the Yashva kingdom, Hafed closed his eyes, bringing his hands together in meditation.

The very moment that Mazar’s chariot came within firing range of the tree, Keshan shouted the Hafedsharta and thrust his arms out, his palms facing outwards, his elbows locked.

Hafed’s shining form disappeared and then reappeared as a shimmering wave of air, shooting from Keshan’s palms, rolling like steam around Mazar’s chariot. The shimmer expanded and swallowed the chariot.

Mazar’s horses slammed into the invisible wall. They topped forward, shrieking, but stopped mid-fall, frozen.

The chariot axle broke and the car flew forward, suspended over the backs of the horses, hanging mid-air. Everyone around the chariot stared in shock.

The battle almost ceased completely around them. Warriors looked in horror at the hanging chariot. The charioteer dangled by the reins, until he let go with a cry and crashed to the ground. The horses whinnied and rolled their eyes in panic, but remained frozen.

All of Mazar’s weapons and his shield tumbled out of the upturned car. Mazar desperately clung to the central pole, hanging there by both arms, his legs kicking as they grappled for the sides of the car to steady him.

“Now!” Keshan hissed through clenched teeth. His arms shook as he held them out, and his face broke out in sweat. He felt as though he were holding the chariot aloft with his own arms.

For one frightening moment, Keshan feared the worst. Jandu would not go through with it. He loved Mazar too much to kill him.

But then Jandu aimed and loosed his string. The arrow whistled through the air and sank deep into Mazar’s throat. He shot three more arrows into his chest, to the lungs and heart. Blood bubbled from Mazar’s mouth.

Mazar finally let go as he died, and his body dropped to the ground. It hit the hard soil with a thump and crumpled.

Keshan let out his breath and lowered his arms. Mazar’s chariot slammed down atop the war master.

Arrows whizzed by his face and arms. The Uru had spotted them. Jandu didn’t seem to care.

“We have to get out of this tree,” Keshan said. “Now, Jandu!”

Then Keshan heard the Uru army sounding a retreat, and the archers fell back from the forest edge. Jandu followed Keshan down, dropping the last few feet to the ground. He looked sad but resolute.

 “Prince Jandu!” Warash, the unofficial leader of Jandu’s troops, bowed before Jandu and Keshan. “Lord Baram has sent supplies. What would you like to do with them?”

Jandu’s expression remained stony. “Please see that every man who needs food gets it. Keshan will attend the injured as soon as he is able.” Jandu looked Keshan over. “Assuming you are strong enough.”

“I am.” Keshan smiled at Warash. “Lead the way.”

Keshan followed Warash through the camp, turning only to see Jandu look up at the fading afternoon light. He stared at the sky in silence, sighed, and then stepped into their tent.

◆◆◆

As darkness closed over the woods, the ethereal light of the demon guards formed a ring of illumination in which the humans gathered, talking amiably over their fires. The mood was pleasant, as Baram’s load of supplies included wine, and the men shared stories and got to know each other under the flashing vigil of the Yashvas.

Keshan used all the magic he knew to help the injured, but there were several men who would die regardless, and one who had already passed away. When Keshan asked for volunteers to help build the man a pyre, he was shocked when one of the most recent soldiers to join them, a Tiwari Triya, volunteered. Keshan did not know the man personally, but the man respected Keshan enough that he decided to join him in the forest rather than fight any longer for the Uru.

Now Jandu approached from the river, wearing his mourning attire. His white dejaru and white shirt seemed to glow in the Yashva light. He had removed all his jewelry, and his cropped hair was wet from his evening ablutions.

As he walked, a dozen different men offered him refreshment or their help. Jandu asked for a torch, and as soon as one of the men brought him one, he bowed politely and said he would return.

Keshan caught him at the edge of the clearing and matched his stride. “Where are you going?”

Jandu frowned. “My master’s funeral pyre. I want to pay my respects.” Jandu spoke as though the answer was obvious and Keshan should have known. “Is there some problem with that?”

“No.” Keshan hurried to catch up to Jandu’s long steps. “I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

“It’s against the rules of the war to injure someone attending a funeral pyre.”

“I meant with words, not with weapons.”

“Insults mean nothing to me now,” Jandu said.

“Can I come with you?”

“If you want to.” Jandu kept walking toward the distant firelight.

Keshan noticed that Jandu’s torchlight seemed dim and saw the bluish glow of the Yashva, taking flight and gathering around him like massive, whirling fireflies.

The relatives of soldiers, physicians, and Jegora scavengers filled the dark battlefield, wielding hundreds of torches as they loaded corpses onto carts.

Keshan had seen the carnage from above. But here, on the battlefield itself, the smell overpowered his senses. Flies buzzed incessantly, and carrion birds gathered on exposed flesh in great clusters. As he and Jandu walked by, the birds took flight carrying chunks of their prizes.

The worst smell came from the Chaya and Suya funeral pyres up ahead. Hundreds of bodies were burned each night. Wailing widows and friends gathered around the great mountain of fire and filled the night with their cries. Looking south, Keshan saw a similar scene on the Paran side as they burned their own dead.

Mazar’s pyre was outside the gates of the Uru camp, presumably since Darvad knew the Parans would want to attend. The gates behind the pyre were doubly fortified with soldiers, as if Darvad feared any Parans meandering over under the excuse of paying respects to Mazar and slipping inside.

A large crowd had gathered around Mazar’s pyre. The Uru commanders stood on the outside, hands pressed together to pay respects to their leader. Inside an area cordoned off with holy icons, Mazar’s immediate friends gathered, dressed in white, bowed low to Mazar’s corpse, which lay on a bed of straw and branches. The wood glinted in the torchlight, wet with oil. Onshu, the officiating priest, stood beside the pyre with his torch ready. He led a series of prayers.

On one side of the pyre, Darvad stood, weeping loudly as he leaned on Tarek Amia for support. On the other side stood Jandu’s brothers, shrouded in white, heads bowed respectfully. Indarel and Rishak had also come to pay their respects.

Keshan stopped just outside the first holy icon, and remained in the shadows. Jandu touched his hand briefly, and then marched into the center of the gathering.

The moment Jandu stepped into the group, the prayers ceased, and all eyes turned to him.

He looked magnificent, Keshan thought. The Yashvas who guarded him turned into pricks of light, which danced around him, protecting him in tight arcs of illumination. Many of the men brought their hands together in hasty prayer. Jandu looked like an ancient prophet, and they treated him like one as he approached Mazar’s broken body. Onshu stepped back, watching the Yashvas with awe.

Yudar looked at Jandu with disgust. The fact that he did so made Keshan want to kill him, then and there.

“What are you doing here?” Yudar growled at Jandu.

Jandu stared down at Mazar’s face. “Paying respects to my weapons master.”

“Master Mazar would be ashamed to have you here after what you’ve done!” Yudar told him.

Jandu took a handful of marigolds from a golden bowl beside the pyre and placed them lovingly on Mazar’s chest. He whispered something to the corpse that Keshan could not hear.

“Get out of here!” Yudar hissed.

“This is a pyre for family.” Darvad’s expression twisted in a sneer. Keshan had never known Darvad to look so cruel. The fact that Keshan once thought Darvad would save them all mocked him. How could he have been so wrong?

“I have allowed my half-brothers here out of respect for Master Mazar. But the casteless do not belong.” Darvad pointed at Keshan. And then he made eye contact with Jandu. “Nor do filthy sodomites.”

Keshan almost had to smile. Yudar couldn’t lie, even when the truth was so shameful.