Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (20 page)

His decision was made for him. Just before noon, as Kithar was starting to doze, a heavily armed Kallik bandit approached him.

“May I speak, warrior?”

“Quickly,” Kithar snapped.

“Just three days ago, I was twenty leagues north of Wuul,” the bandit said. “And while there, I heard rumors of an army of monsters invading the desert from the direction of Senasana. I witnessed nothing myself, but I spoke to those who claimed to have seen this army slaying everyone in its path.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“A Tugar would not believe this of a Kallik, but I care for the people of Tējo.”

“In other words, if the monsters kill everyone, there’ll be no one left to rob.”

The bandit shrugged. “All evils are blamed on the Kalliks.” Then he slipped away.

Kithar pondered this news, then went about asking others if they had heard of this army. To his dismay, several said yes—and some believed that the army was headed toward Wuul. After what had happened to the noble ones, it was not difficult for Kithar to believe these stories. He had no choice but to remain at the oasis and organize its defense.

AS SOON AS the Simōōn was lowered, Aya and twenty-five score Tugars set off into the desert toward Barranca. The rhythmic pounding from a dozen barrel-sized drums bade them farewell. Despite temperatures that would far exceed one hundred degrees, the warriors wore black silk jackets tucked into their breeches and no headpieces. Each bore a
uttara
, short sword, dagger, and sling along with a shoulder bag containing water, dried goat meat, and Cirāya. Their intent was to move fast and strike hard. Before they were done, no fiend would retain its head.

At the start of their journey, the warriors were twenty-five leagues from the border of Barranca, a two-day march over a wilderness of sand. When in a hurry, Tugars covered more ground walking than riding because they were relieved of the burden of fending for camels during periods of rest.

As the noonday sun burned overhead in a clear blue sky, the warriors approached a temporary end to the sand. Spears of rock erupted from the desert floor, forming an irregular palisade. Spiny-tailed lizards clung to the natural wall, beyond which was a gravel plain containing stands of acacia and palmetto. Several dozen stunted trees grew near a spring-fed pond, the water green but drinkable. The Tugars massed beneath the trees and ate a small meal. Then they slept through the worst of the afternoon’s heat before continuing the march that would last all through the night and early morning before they rested again.

When the sun finally vacated the sky, the temperature dropped almost thirty degrees. The hot wind became chilly, but the Tugars were unfazed. They exited the gravel plain and entered another sea of fine yellow sand. All around them desert winds created freakish sounds, winding through what felt like an endless series of dunes, some more than five hundred cubits tall.

For the first time since leaving Anna, the Tugars encountered other desert dwellers. A dozen tall but slender warriors clad only in loincloths walked beneath a sliver of moon. One bore a brace of jerboas, which they would cook and eat, tails and all, and two others carried an antelope skewered on a branch. The Kurfs were headed toward the tiny oasis the Tugars had vacated earlier that day. When they saw Aya and his army, they raced over and knelt in the sand.

“
Kantaara Yodha
, I am yours to command,” their leader said to Aya.

“Give me news from the west,” Aya said.

“We have heard strange rumors, but have seen nothing unusual.”

“Rumors?”

“Some say an army of monsters has invaded the desert. Others say there is a giant that gobbles up men, women, and children. Still others scoff at both tales.”

“We are aware of the army, but this is the first we have heard of a giant. Let us hope there is no truth to that. You have nothing more to add?”

“Our journey has been uneventful, but it sounds like yours will be wrought with peril. Still, in the desert they say that whatever faces the wrath of the Tugars is to be pitied.”

Nothing faced the Tugars’ wrath for the rest of the night. They walked in silence beneath a moonless sky, the waxing crescent having long since set. Few creatures noted their passing. In unison, the warriors stopped and watched an epic battle between a puff adder and a mongoose. The mammal ultimately won, eliciting cheers from the
Kantaara Yodhas
and prompting Aya to shush them.

“We know naught what wanders in the darkness,” he scolded. “No more noise.”

By late morning, they were halfway to their destination. They huddled beneath boulders surrounded by a sparse field of grass. Another spring was hidden within the rocks, much smaller than the previous one but with clear water that never seemed to dissipate even during the fiercest of droughts. The warriors drank until their stomachs were swollen and refilled their skins before eating another small meal and then lying down to sleep. But unexpected visitors interrupted their rest: two score Beydoos, all men, their dark-gray clothes tattered and bloodied.

The leader rushed to Aya. “
Magnificent One
,” the much-smaller man said to the Tugar. “Horrors are abroad! My people have been hard-set. An army of monsters, thousands and thousands, attacked our encampment. They slew more than ten score of us, including our women and children, and they ate their flesh like the
Jaguarundi
feeds on the
Addax
.”

“
Soko me appamaano
(My sorrow is boundless),” Aya said. “The Tugars would have arrived sooner, if we were able. How long ago did these events occur? And where?”

“We were assailed yesterday eve, just ten leagues to the west.”

“Then the fiends have already entered Tējo,” Aya mused.

“Yes. But the tidings are worse than that.”

“What could be worse?”

“Most of the fiends, as you call them, resembled citizens of Senasana, fish folk from the Ogha, or farmers from the Green Plains. But others were among them: Beydoos, Kurfs, Kalliks, and Takans. The army
grows
. And our people, including some of our
children
, march with it.”

Despite the Beydoo’s dire words, the Tugars stayed put. The heat of the midafternoon could weaken even the stoutest of warriors, and Aya wanted his contingent to be as fresh as possible. If the army of fiends was indeed twenty thousand strong, it would be no easy task to defeat, even for the
Kantaara Yodhas
. And it was possible that the fiends were scattered beyond a core group, which meant days or weeks of searching and destroying. Given time, was a single fiend capable of infecting others and creating yet another army? The monsters were a cancer that had to be eradicated completely, or they would sprout again and again, perhaps where least expected.

One hundred slow breaths before dusk, the Tugars departed their resting place among the boulders, having no choice but to leave the Beydoos to fend for themselves. Though Aya did his best to maintain discipline, his warriors were anxious to confront the enemy, and they quickened their pace to a jog, which was tough work on the spongy sand. Now they were less than twenty leagues from where Aya had first seen the fiends in the heart of Barranca, but that was six days past. Even moving slowly, the army of monsters would be far distant from where Aya remembered. But soon it became apparent where the fiends were headed. From the southwest, hundreds of panicked desert dwellers scrambled into the heart of Tējo.

“You are not
enough
,” a Takan woman screamed at Aya, without slowing her retreat.

“All the Tugars in the world are not enough,” her male companion said.

“My own daughter tried to eat me,” a grandmotherly type said to Aya. Then she sprinted off faster than most of the others.

“These people flee into the desert without sufficient water or food,” a Tugar warrior said to his leader. “They will die there just as surely as at the hands of the fiends. Should some of us remain behind to aid their retreat?”

“They have gotten this far without our help,” Aya said. “Do not underestimate their ability to survive. No . . . we stay together.”

THE DAY AFTER Kithar reached Wuul, the Tugarian warrior named Silah strode north along the eastern border of Barranca in the late afternoon. In terms of finding help, she had had less success than Kithar. The few she encountered were in no condition to lend aid, though many told her disturbing stories of an army of fiends invading Tējo from the north.

To her left, a line of smoke rose into the desert sky. From the color and quantity, Silah discerned that this was no ordinary campfire. Someone or something must have ignited a large patch of brush within Barranca; there wasn’t enough wood in all of the wastelands to build a fire of such intensity.

A tall limestone ridge blocked her view. She briskly scaled the rock face, slid through a crevice, and stepped onto a dusty ledge. What she saw far below—with her superhuman eyesight—caused her to gasp. Ten tribesmen, Takans from the looks of them, were huddled on a bald within a burning patch of acacias. Just outside the fire were a dozen fiends of various shapes and sizes, including one that appeared to be a child of no more than five summers. The fiends were unable to breach the burning bushes, but the flames were diminishing, and soon the monsters would be able to find an opening.

Silah scrambled down the interior of the ridge and sprinted across the jagged floor of Barranca. The Takans were at least two miles away. Silah ran until her lungs burned, but she was losing her race against time. She screamed with all her might, hoping to distract the predators, but they seemed not to hear, too intent on their prey to heed her approach. Even from a quarter-mile away, she could see that one of the fiends had stumbled through the flames and was tussling with the people inside.

While still in a sprint, Silah brought out her sling, loaded a bead in the leather pouch, and whirled it above her head. Her aim, as usual, was magnificent. The nearest fiend fell, its skull pierced from back to front. Six more shots, in succession, dropped six more monsters, though it was only a temporary slowdown. Soon after tumbling to the ground, they staggered to their feet to resume the hunt.

However, the beads accomplished what her shouting had not. Now the fiends were aware of her. Silah slowed her pace enough to catch her breath, tucked her sling back into her belt, and removed her
uttara
. In the sunlight of late afternoon, the blade gleamed like red death.

The fiends were disgusting to behold—bruised, bloodied, and in most cases, partially eaten. But a Tugar never shied from a fight. Silah had undergone fifty years of training. Even against monsters, battle brought exhilaration instead of fear.

One of the fiends, formerly a powerfully built teenage boy, had separated from the others and was the first to greet her. From five paces away, Silah leaped, locked her elbows, and whipped the striking area of her blade into the lumpy protrusion at the front of the boy’s neck. With astounding ease, the
uttara
cut through cartilage and bone. The force of the blow caused the fiend’s head to spring high into the air. Black blood spurted from the severed neck, while its body crumpled forward and struck the gravel with a thud. Silah barely noticed. There was more killing to be done before she would have time to examine the carnage.

Ten more fiends came toward her, though they slowed their approach. Discretion, apparently, was a part of their adaptability. The next within striking distance was a wiry woman who was naked except for a black head-covering. Bite marks were visible all over her body, and one of her small breasts had been ripped completely off. Silah tightened her two-handed grip inward as her
uttara
swung downward. The blade sundered the woman’s skull and drove past bone, flesh, and gristle all the way to the sternum. For less than a second, the
uttara
became entangled in muscle and sinew, forcing Silah to twist it slightly before yanking it free. This short delay gave the next fiend just enough time to reach her and bite her left forearm with jaws as strong as a desert Lyon’s. But they were still no match for the dense flesh of a Tugar. Silah caved in the man’s chest with a kick. He tumbled backward and lay temporarily still.