Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (24 page)

Without warning, the humming stopped, and the woods went still. At first, the silence hurt worse than the noise. Lucius’ ears continued to throb. When his hearing finally adjusted, he felt exposed, as if the titanic waves of sound had provided a sort of camouflage.

From below, a hideous voice broke the disconcerting tranquility. “I know you. Do you know me?”

Lucius shivered. He
did
know that voice, though it had changed since he last heard it, becoming deeper and more guttural.

“Tyger got your tongue, general?”

Somehow, Lucius knew that he should not respond, though the will that now inhabited Urbana’s body tried to compel him to reveal himself. Again, he had to fight the urge to transform. But he did so successfully.

“Very well . . . we will meet again,” the creature said. “I will leave you, for now. There is no need to hurry, little man.”

Then she cackled. “Or should I call you, little
freak
? For you are less, even, than a man.”

At that point, he almost cracked, but Bonny grasped his bicep and squeezed hard. Her touch rescued him, giving him the strength to remain hidden.

“Bye-bye!” the voice cried out. And then the humming resumed.

When Lucius looked down at his war club, it was glowing as brightly as the largest firefly to ever live.

FROM THE BATTLEMENT of Balak, Chieftain-Kusala watched the Chain Man’s forces expand before his eyes. The combined strength of Nissaya, Jivita and Anna was only half this army’s size, but the numbers were not what concerned him most. By themselves, the golden soldiers were no threat to the fortress. The monsters that marched beneath Avici’s banner were another matter.

Kusala had learned firsthand how difficult it was for Asēkhas to stand against Warlish witches; yet creatures were on the field that were even more dangerous. And that didn’t even take Mala into consideration. Though Kusala was more than half a mile away, he could see the ruined snow giant clearly in the dimming light, stomping around like he owned the world. The Kojins followed him like adoring servants, and wherever he went, the other monsters came to strict attention. There was no dissension within his ranks. After all, it was difficult to squabble with something as massive as Mala.

Other than several elephants being used as pack animals, there were only two larger creatures among the gathering: a pair of three-headed giants, each thirty cubits tall. Even these terrible monsters seemed to grow timid when Mala approached. The right hand of Invictus knew no fear.

Kusala remembered standing only a few paces from the Chain Man on the balcony of Bakheng. Then, the chieftain had feared Mala less than he did now. Even from a distance, the enormity of the Chain Man’s power was palpable, though it seemed focused not on the dreaded chain that encased his torso but on the trident he gripped in his right hand. As darkness deepened over the Green Plains, the three-pronged spear glowed like molten rock, casting more light than a bonfire. Kusala didn’t like the looks of it. It caused him to shiver in a way that nothing had before.

“He is beyond me.” The deep voice came from behind, startling Kusala out of his reverie. Yama-Utu stepped out of the shadows. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you clearly,” Kusala said. “But I’m not sure I understand you.”

Utu grunted. “Until now, I have clung to the hope that the monster dwelling within my brother’s body could be destroyed. I believed that you and your kind would distract his army long enough for me to face him, and that I could slay him like I did the Kojin. This was not a pleasant thought, of course. But I did not doubt my resolve . . . until now.”

“What has changed?”

“You understand better than you let on. You can see him too. And feel him.”

Kusala grimaced. “I once faced Mala on Bakheng. And I saw him again in the mountains north of Gamana. Both times, I knew that he was dangerous, but neither time did he seem invincible. Now I’m not so sure. So . . . yes . . . I understand better than I let on. But my question remains: What has changed? Is it the trident?”

“He bears three great weapons. The chain that enslaves him, the trident in his right hand, and the ring on his left.”

“I see no ring.”

“Nevertheless, it is there—and it is as powerful as the trident.”

“Do these weapons make him invincible?”

This time, it was Utu’s turn to grimace. “Yes. But not for the obvious reasons.”

“Please explain—in plain language,” Kusala said. “Solving riddles is not my forte.”

“Snow giants can sense the presence of magic much as someone like you can feel heat. You could stand near one of these torches with little discomfort. But how close could you stand to a bonfire? Or worse yet, a wildfire? And yet, that does not begin to describe the extent of his power. The real question is, how close could you stand to the sun?”

“Mala’s magic is that strong?”

“It’s not Mala’s magic I fear. Though Invictus waits and watches from the shadows, it is
his
strength that flows through my brother’s sinews. The weapons will serve only as conduits—but effective ones. Even before Yama-Deva was converted, he was greater than me. But I had hoped my obsession would give me an edge. I could strike with a rage so sudden, my brother would be whelmed. Now I see that my hopes were false.”

“Are you saying we have no chance? If that’s the case, we might as well throw down our arms and raise the doors.”

“Hopelessness and surrender are not always the same,” Utu said. “Mala is beyond me . . . I do not have the strength to slay him. But I shall make the attempt, nonetheless.”

Kusala released an uneven sigh. “Does Mala know you’re here? Can he sense your magic as you sense his?”

Utu permitted himself a brief smile. “That is an excellent question. There is hope for you yet, Kusala.”

A voice from the shadows startled them.

“Are you ever going to invite me into this conversation? Or must the king of Nissaya remain in the dark?”

Neither the chieftain nor the snow giant had sensed Henepola’s approach. The king seemed relaxed, almost to the point of casualness. He wore black robes and a crown of black diamonds, but his white hair shone beneath the crescent moon, and his staff of
Maōi
shimmered.

“You have not yet donned your armor, sire,” Kusala said.

“It won’t be needed until morning,” Henepola said. “And Mala will want to have a little talk before he attacks. But don’t deflect my question, chieftain. What are the two of you discussing so earnestly?”

Kusala started to answer, but Utu interrupted. “I have informed the chieftain that I cannot defeat Mala.”

“I could have told him myself and saved you the trouble,” Henepola said. “You should be back in Okkanti, delighting in the snowflakes.”

Utu snarled and rose to his full height, but the king waved his hand and laughed. “Do not take offense! My newfound sense of humor can be jarring. It’s just that I foresaw the hopelessness of resistance long before you. But I believe I overheard you saying to Kusala that, despite your despair, you are not inclined to surrender.”

“It appears you heard a good deal of our conversation,” Kusala said. “Have you perfected the art of invisibility?”

“Only demons, ghosts, and Tugars are capable of such feats,” the king said with a wink. “But I am able to blend into my surroundings almost as well as a
Kantaara Yodha
.”

Kusala snorted. “Even better, it seems.”

“I will not surrender,” Utu said, responding to Henepola’s earlier statement. “Do you have a point to make?”

“No . . . but I do have something to show you.”

Kusala rolled his eyes. “The last time you said those words to me, it turned out to be quite unpleasant.”

In response, Henepola’s face seemed to catch fire. “This also will not be
pleasant
. Nonetheless, it is worthy of the snow giant’s consideration. Will the two of you come with me into the city? It’s a long walk, but I doubt any of us will be getting much sleep tonight. If nothing else, it will help pass the time until morning.”

THE UNUSUAL TRIO started down one of the numerous stone stairwells that flanked the inward face of Balak. Tugars started to follow, but Kusala waved them off. Though the stairs were deep, the snow giant took them four at a time and reached the base of the bulwark long before the king and Kusala. Waiting for them at the bottom, as if on cue, were Madiraa and Indajaala, both of whom wore no armor.

“So, you’re part of this conspiracy, as well?” Kusala said to the princess and conjurer.

Neither found this amusing.

“What you’re about to be shown is no laughing matter,” Madiraa whispered. “Except for my father and Indajaala, only a select few have seen it.”

“To be honest,
I
have never seen it,” Indajaala said to the princess. “You and the king have spoken of it many times, and I have stood outside the door, but it has never graced my eyes.”

“
The Torgon
saw it . . . once,” Madiraa said to Kusala. “And rest assured he was suitably impressed.”

“As are all,” the king agreed.

“For Anna’s sake, what are you talking about?” Kusala said.

“You’ll see,” Henepola said.

“I must admit that even I’m intrigued,” Utu said.

“That’s good to hear,” the king said. “Because the thing I wish to show you is intended for you.”

They crossed the deadly moat on the main drawbridge. Kusala looked over the side at the black water, which hid thousands of razor-sharp spikes. Like the door of Balak, the door of Ott also was closed. The only way to surmount Ott was via rope ladders, hundreds of which were draped over the exterior of the bulwark. The wall was so tall, smooth, and sheer, even Utu had to use one of the ladders to ascend it. The ropes were strong enough to hold fifty men at once, but the snow giant’s feet were so thick he had difficulty squeezing them between the rungs.

The door of Hakam remained open, making it easier to deliver food and weapons to the lesser bulwarks. This door also required half a day to shut, but its twenty portcullises could be lowered far more quickly. Besides, the thought of Balak and Ott being breached was inconceivable.

Henepola led them into the interior of the fortress. To Kusala’s surprise, the king veered away from the main keep. The torchlit streets swarmed with frantic civilians. The king’s guard led the way, clearing a path through the startled throngs. They hurried down a side street past a courtyard crammed to capacity with civilian refugees. Beyond the courtyard was a string of eateries that now were used solely to prepare food for the frightened inhabitants.

The side street narrowed considerably before dead-ending into an empty pavilion without doors, windows, or torchlight. It was so dark Henepola was forced to use his
Maōi
staff to light the way, leading them to a black wall as smooth as a pane of glass.

Though the king seemed to know exactly where he was going, Kusala found himself becoming increasingly agitated. A chieftain’s place was on the first bulwark, not wandering around the backstreets of the city on some poorly defined mission. As if reading the Asēkha’s thoughts, the king spoke.

“Patience, my friend. It won’t be long now.”

“
What
won’t be long?”

“Behold!”

Henepola tapped his staff against the wall. Sputters of milky energy sprang from the head of the staff and splashed against the black stone. In response, the outline of a portal magically appeared. The king nudged the hidden door open, revealing crude stairs that descended steeply into even deeper darkness.

“I don’t think Utu can fit in there,” Kusala said.

“Snow giants are more pliable than you think,” Utu said.

“After fifty steps, it opens into a larger chamber,” Madiraa said. “As long as none of us fear tight quarters, we’ll be all right.”

The guards were ordered to remain outside. Then Henepola led the way. Utu, Kusala, and Madiraa followed, with Indajaala taking up the rear. The snow giant was forced to lower his head and twist his torso sideways, but he didn’t appear discomforted. As the princess had foretold, fifty steps led to a chamber large enough to contain a score of men, though Utu still had to crouch to avoid bumping his skull on the stone ceiling.

At the far end of the chamber was another door, but this one was plainly visible, its seams aglow. Henepola walked over to it and then paused, turning to face his companions.

“There are mysteries in the bowels of Nissaya,” the king said solemnly. “Creatures of unknown origin still reside in the deepest depths, along with untapped reservoirs of jewels and gemstones. Among all these treasures, Maōi is the most precious. But what few realize is that most of the Maōi we uncover is rarely pure. Black granite, obsidian, and a variety of crystals course within its veins. The chandeliers that illuminate the banquet room of Nagara contain only traces of Maōi. My staff, on the other hand, is made of the purest Maōi known to our people. Except . . .”