The Skull Throne (71 page)

The changeling grew eyes on its back, whipping horns and talons through the air to fend off the assailants, but Ashia could see its lines of power, and knew its attention was fixed on Asome. It knocked him sprawling, then opened a jaw that grew rapidly to gigantic size.

Ashia didn’t know if it meant to bite him in half or swallow him whole, but didn’t give it the chance, accepting the lash of a tentacle to get in close and stab hard. The sharp horns tore her robe, ripping away armor plates and finding soft flesh beneath. She hit the ground spitting blood, praying to Everam that Asome had used the distraction to recover.

Indeed the demon had hesitated, but Asome did not use the opportunity to flee. As the creature roared in pain through its impossibly wide jaws, Asome coiled up and sprang right into its mouth.

The force of his leap took him past the rows of jaws and down the
alagai’s
throat. Ashia could see its lines of power shatter as it pulled in all its strength to heal the damage Asome’s warded skin was no doubt doing inside. Limbs melted back into the blob, save those the
dama
held trapped in warded silver.

The amorphous pile bucked and thrashed. Choked, the demon could not shriek. Ashia could see it losing cohesion, and knew its end was inevitable, but would it take her husband with it? He was still alive, still fighting, but even he could not go forever without breath.

Forcing herself to her feet, Ashia stumbled back in. The
dama
fighting around her were denied the blade, but her curved knife was long a foot long and sharp enough to shave the hairs from a spider’s leg. She stuck it to the hilt in the gelatinous mass, cutting a deep line.

The wound bucked from the inside, spattering her with ichor, but she did not relent, slashing deeper. At last, one of Asome’s warded fists punched out into the night air, bright with power. His other hand appeared, the two gripping the wound and tearing it apart from the inside.

Mouths broke across the surface of the demon, joining in one last cry before it collapsed, motionless.

Asome stood there, covered in ichor and glowing like the sun. Like her blessed uncle.

Like Kaji himself.

His
dama
brothers and the remaining
Sharum,
including Hoshkamin and Asukaji, fell to their knees before him. Ashia felt it, too. She understood what had happened, but the instinct to kneel was strong. It was only by an act of will that she kept her feet.

“Nie’s power grows again at Waning, brothers!” Asome called. “This is but the first of her
kais
to come. With my father chasing Alagai Ka to the edge of Nie’s abyss, it is not enough for the
Sharum
to hold the line against Her. Every man must fight, if Sharak Ka is to be won! My father made the weak
khaffit
into
kha’Sharum
! The
chin
into
chi’Sharum
! Even women, like my blessed
Jiwah Ka,
were called as
Sharum’ting
!”

He swept a hand over the assembled
dama.
“Of all in Krasia, it is only we, the clerics, who waited to be called! But the wait is over, brothers! As my father called others to the fight, so do I call upon those in white to join in
alagai’sharak
! It is only fitting that it should be blood of the Deliverer to first step into the night. I name you
shar’dama,
warrior-clerics, and we will guide Krasia through its darkest hour!”

There was a stunned silence, and then all the assembled men broke out in cheers. Even Hoshkamin, the Sharum Ka and Jayan’s creature, could not help himself as he punched a fist in the air, joining the cry.

“Shar’dama! Shar’dama! Shar’dama!”

Kajivah was asleep in the nursery as Ashia and Asome crept into their palace chambers. Asukaji and the other
dama
went to see the
dama’ting
for their injuries, but Ashia and Asome, flush with stolen magic, had already healed every scrape and bruise.

There was no mistaking what Asome was about as he pushed into Ashia’s pillow chamber. She felt it, too, pulling him along with one hand as she pulled down her veil with the other to kiss him.

The thrill of battle, the pride in each other, and the charge of battle whirled in them both, an aphrodisiac neither could resist.

Ashia tripped her husband, flinging Asome onto the bed and crawling atop him.

“I am told these greenland beds have better uses than sleeping.” She kissed him again. Asome’s member stood in his robes like the pole of a tent.

“I am still … 
push’ting.
” He groaned as she squeezed it.

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Ashia said, pulling off her own robes. “Tonight, you are my husband.”

CHAPTER 28

SHAR’DAMA

334 AR WINTER

“You have broken my decree, and that of the Shar’Dama Ka,” Ashan said from his seat on the Skull Throne. The anger in his voice was apparent to all, and it was not an act. From her perch above the throne, Inevera could see it dancing on his aura. “Going into the night at Waning and fighting
alagai’sharak.
What have you to say for yourselves?”

There was silence in the great hall as all held their breaths, waiting for an answer. The throne room was filled to capacity, with every
dama
in the city in attendance, as well as ranking
Sharum
and
dama’ting.
Word of the night’s battle had reached every ear in the city by now, talk of the
shar’dama
on everyone’s lips. Inevera doubted the djinn could be put back in the bottle now that it was out.

Asome stood out in front, unrepentant, with Asukaji at his side. Behind them stood his
dama
half brothers with the
Damaji
of their respective tribes. Most of the old men were livid with rage, auras crackling. They had been forced to take Ahmann’s sons as their heirs, but with the Deliverer gone and a crime to pin at their feet, many were praying fervently that this might be their chance to rid themselves of the boys and regain direct control of their tribes.

Inevera had wanted to settle the matter in private, but Ashan, in an uncharacteristic show of will, had refused. He wanted the distance of the throne, fearing he might throttle the boys if they stood close in private.

It was a feeling Inevera understood well. The balance of power in the city already shifted as if built on a foundation of sand. Ahmann’s
dama
heirs were only newly raised to the white, still too young and inexperienced to take and hold control of the tribes. The dice had told her of Jayan’s victory on the lake, and he would surely use the triumph to further his claim to the throne.

Yet for Inevera the deepest cut was Ashia. Her sons were expected to wrestle for power. The spear sisters’ loyalty should have been absolute. Micha and Jarvah had not known—it was clear on their auras when they came to her—but Ashia had stood before her, knowing her husband’s plans, and put Asome’s honor above her duty to her mistress.

But that was a problem for later. Inevera was pulled from her thoughts as Asome drew breath to speak. Unlike the tension and anger in the others, Asome’s aura was cool and even, convinced of the righteousness of his path, safe in the knowledge that Everam was on his side.

“Holy Andrah,” Asome said, bowing deeply before Ashan, “it is said amongst the
Sharum
who accompanied you and my father to meet with the Hollow tribe that you, yourself, fought
alagai’sharak
with them. Is this not so?”

There was a buzz through the room at that,
dama
gasping and whispering to one another.

Ashan’s eyes narrowed. “The Shar’Dama Ka commanded I follow him into battle and I obeyed, defending myself by tripping and throwing
alagai
into the path of
Sharum
spears. I did not take up warded weapons and kill.”

“And yet your honor was boundless,” Asome said. “I did not take up weapons, either. The first
alagai
I killed were by
sharusahk
alone, with no magic to aid me. It was only when Nie set her
kai
against us that I fought as my father did, turning their own power against them.”

Another buzz through the crowd.

“And yet it was that very thing your father forbade,” Ashan reminded him. “Here, in open court, he forbade you to fight at Waning.”

“My father made that decree to punish my arrogance,” Asome said, drawing looks of surprise. Indeed, all Ahmann’s sons were arrogant, though none to Inevera’s knowledge had ever admitted it. “My wife had gone into the night, killing
alagai
at the Damajah’s command.” He looked up, meeting Inevera’s eyes. “With no warning to me beforehand. What husband would not rage at such a sight? What man not feel the sting? I spoke out in anger, attempting to deny her the spear.”

Asome turned, taking in the assembled court. “But I was wrong! Wrong to deny the honor to any who wished to take arms against Nie and stand unified in Sharak Ka. For make no mistake, brothers and sisters, Sharak Ka is near! My mother has foretold that the Deliverer has gone to the edge of Nie’s abyss, and when he returns it will be with all Her forces at his heels! The armies of the Deliverer must stand ready when that day comes, strong at his back as he turns to face that fell horde and cleanse their taint from Ala once and for all!”

He turned back to Ashan. “Why do
dama
spend lifetimes studying
sharusahk
? To bully
Sharum
and
khaffit
to our will? That is not Everam’s way. Not the way of Shar’Dama Ka. At every turn, my father added to his forces from unlikely places.
Khaffit. Chin.
Women. The creation of the
shar’dama
was inevitable, Holy Andrah. My father denied me honor to teach me this, but I have learned. I have grown. And now, with my father facing trials far from here, it is the duty of all
dama
to lead his people in his absence.”

Again his eyes swept the crowd. “And so on the second night of Waning, I call upon all
dama
to take up the fight, staining their white robes with demon ichor and sending a message to Nie’s generals that we of Krasia are not weak in the night. That we will stand not only when the Deliverer is with us, but when he needs us most to stand on our own. Every
Sharum
unit has a
dama
advisor. Go with them into the night and see firsthand the great work they do, the sacrifice they make. Join in
alagai’sharak,
and become what you were meant to be since the first time you stood in the bowels of Sharik Hora and began the
sharukin
!”

There was a roar at that, some
dama
and
Damaji
screaming in protest, but many more crying out in support, eager for the honor Asome offered.

“You must support him,” Inevera whispered into Ashan’s earring. She had said it before, but now there was no other choice. When Ahmann had first brought back the fighting wards and offered true battle against Nie, the Andrah and
Damaji
had resisted, fearing the loss of power.
Sharum
had defected in droves, flocking to the Maze and Ahmann’s call. If they resisted, it would only be a matter of time before Asome did the same.

Ashan was angry at his sons, but he was no fool and saw it, too. “There is wisdom in your words, my son. The blood of my brother Ahmann, Shar’Dama Ka, runs strong in you—all of you. You honor Everam with your words.” He rose from the Skull Throne. “And so I, too, will fight this night, and stain my robes.”

“As will I.” Ancient, one-armed Aleverak stepped forward. “Too long have the
dama
cowered like women in the Undercity while
Sharum
shed blood in the night.”

Others stepped forward, some in passion, and others, their auras told, out of fear of being seen as cowards. The wind blew, and none could resist it.

“
Shar’dama!
And my brother is first among them! They chant it in the streets while I sit here in the cold doing nothing!”

Jayan threw the letter into the fireplace, followed by his couzi bottle. The ensuing fireball consumed the paper instantly, and everyone took a step back. Thankfully, the blaze did not spread.

Bring the Sharum Ka a fresh cup,
Abban’s fingers told Earless,
but leave the bottle on the tray.

The mute
kha’Sharum
did as he was bidden, eyes firmly on the floor. Even stooped he was the tallest man in the room, but Earless’ silent subservience was as good as a Cloak of Unsight. Jayan took the cup without so much as glancing his way.

“You will not find the path to glory at the bottom of a couzi cup, Sharum Ka,” Khevat said.

Jayan made a show of throwing back the cup, wiping his mouth with his white veil. Khevat rankled, but said nothing as Jayan stormed up to him. “Then where will I find it, Dama? You were sent here to advise me, were you not? How long will your son keep the Skull Throne if my brother’s power continues to grow?”

“My son never should have had the throne in the first place,” Khevat said. “That was the Damajah’s doing.”

“And what would you have done instead?” Jayan asked.

“The law is clear,” Khevat said. “The throne should have passed to you. You are the eldest son. Your holy father gave you command of
alagai’sharak,
and you are the one in foreign lands, fighting Sharak Sun for the glory of Everam. Your brother has only killed a handful of
alagai.
”

“And started a movement that will tear the clergy asunder, much as your father did,” Abban said.

Khevat glared at him. “Your opinion was not asked for,
khaffit.
”

Abban bowed as Jayan looked his way. “As the Sharum Ka says, honored Dama, we are here to advise.”

“You are the one putting couzi in the Sharum Ka’s hands,” Khevat said. “How can you hope to advise a path to glory?”

“How indeed?” Jayan asked, but there was none of his usual derision. “I would hear the
khaffit’s
advice.”

Abban smiled. “The Sharum Ka already knows what he will do.”

Jayan crossed his arms, but he was smirking. “Do enlighten us.”

Abban bowed again. “The Sharum Ka could have returned to the capital for the winter. The city on the lake is all but taken, and cold will keep the siege better than warriors. The
chin
rebellion in Everam’s Bounty is crushed. Why remain here at the head of his armies, with little to do until the thaw?”

“What course is left to me?” Jayan asked. “With the lake frozen and the Hollow tribe outnumbering us to the north?”

“East, to see for yourself the destruction your warriors have wrought upon the heathen monastery that launched the attack upon us,” Abban said. “Your siege engines will gather snow if left so close to the lake, but the Old Hill Road to the north is yet clear.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting the Sharum Ka attack Angiers,” Khevat said, but Jayan was smiling widely now. “We do not have enough men to hold such a prize.”

“Hold?” Abban asked. “What hold? Sack. The Northern walls are nothing. Kick in their gate and you can flood the merchant district with ten thousand warriors. Empty the warehouses, take anything else of value, and be back in Everam’s Reservoir before winter sets in full.”

Jayan looked disappointed. “You want me to take thousands of
dal’Sharum
north simply to steal a few wells?”

“Burn the palace down if you wish,” Abban shrugged. “Take hostages, post the duke’s head on the wall. Whatever you like, so long as you do it quickly and be gone before their neighbors can move against you.

“After that, you will have the largest, most seasoned army in the world, mobile and well supplied, and wealth to surpass even your father’s. What matter then, who sits the Skull Throne? Kaji himself spent more years in the saddle than he ever did upon a throne.”

Jayan looked at Khevat, who seemed mollified. “It is a bold plan, Sharum Ka. If the Watchers of the Hollow tribe should spy your movements—”

“They will not,” Jayan cut him off. “My Watchers have spied on the Hollow tribe for some time now. Their patrols do not yet range to the far side of the great wood.”

Khevat looked to Asavi. “Perhaps we should consult …”

“I have already cast the dice at the Sharum Ka’s request,” the
dama’ting
said. “The Deliverer’s son will shatter the gate and pour thousands of
dal’Sharum
into the city before the first day is out.”

Jayan moved to a tapestry map of Thesa on the wall, pointing with his spear. “How many warriors remain in Everam’s Reservoir?”

He did not look to Abban, but as few of the others could count so high, the
khaffit
was quick to answer. “Thirty-five thousand
Sharum
remain in the wetlands. One hundred twenty
kai’Sharum,
six thousand, four hundred and six
dal,
nine thousand, two hundred thirty-four
kha,
and nineteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-six
chi.
”

“I will take twenty thousand
Sharum
east.” Jayan turned to Khevat. “Dama, you will accompany me to the monastery and remain there with a thousand men to refortify it to receive the spoils from Angiers, away from prying eyes.”

Khevat bowed. “Yes, Sharum Ka.”

“Captain Qeran will take command of the siege of Lakton under my brother Sharu, who will command our land forces.”

Qeran and Sharu bowed. “Your will, Sharum Ka.”

“Jurim. My father’s pact with the Hollow tribe does not forbid us to steal a few wells. Here and here.” Jayan pointed to villages along the southern border of Hollow County’s influence. Technically Laktonian, the hamlets were too far from Docktown to be of strategic value, and the Hollow tribe had annexed the land. “Take three hundred men. Do not stay in one place longer than it takes to loot and burn or strike in a predictable pattern. Let them think there may be many times your true number.”