Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (30 page)

And now, the means to silence Tathagata, once and for all, stood just a few paces away. Once Appam’s flesh was devoured, the fiend would be unstoppable. Despite all this, the annoying nun refused to relent.

“Appam . . .
flee
!” she managed to force her mouth to say.

Vedana could sense that, ironically, Tathagata was closer than ever to achieving enlightenment. But a maelstrom surrounded the High Nun, rendering her awareness impotent.

Vedana found this hysterical. At times, existence could be so sweet.

“I CANNOT,” APPAM said to the giant. “It is not in my nature to retreat from danger. Still, I will take no pleasure in being the instrument of your death—though perhaps I should, for your misery will be relieved.”

The monster snarled. Whatever sanity had surfaced seemed to vanish. At that moment, Appam knew that he was in a life-or-death struggle in which neither side could afford to show mercy. With a short inhale and exhale, Appam calmed his mind. There was no fear in his stance, only a grudging respect for the might of the creature he was about to fight.

With another snarl the fiend pounded forward, its massive hands outstretched. It closed the gap with amazing quickness. Appam was barely able to avoid its attack, moving sideways but delivering a slashing cut above the creature’s knee before sliding out of reach. Where the ultra-sharp blade met Tathagata’s distended flesh, an explosion of black ensued, as if a small portion of the Realm of the Undead was unleashed into the living world. Nocuous smoke billowed outward, a trace of it searing Appam’s eyes, temporarily blinding him.

Now in a defensive mode, he sheathed his sword and cartwheeled across the sand, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the giant. When he finally stood, his vision remained blurred, but at least he could discern the outline of shapes.

“Appam . . .
flee
!”

He heard the words again, but this time they were said in a mocking tone. The giant approached again, heedless of the wound on its leg. Appam wiped at his eyes, attempting to clear his vision. Even without sight, he was formidable. When the fiend attacked again, he raised his
uttara
above his head, drove the point into the monster’s abdomen, twisted the blade, and ripped it out sideways.

The giant howled, but another gout of smoke blew outward, knocking Appam off his feet and sending him tumbling head over heels. Now he truly was blind, and before he could stand, the monster leapt upon him, lifting him with hands far stronger than anything he had ever encountered. His arms were pinned to his sides, eliminating the threat of his uttara.

Though his vision was gone, his other senses were on high alert. He felt the searing heat of Tathagata’s breath as the wicked mouth closed around his head, neck, and upper torso. He screamed as the fangs tore through his flesh.

Appam’s last thought: A Tugar cannot be harmed like this.

As his upper body tore away, his karma leapt into the quiet of death.

The warrior was no longer.

To him, at least, it no longer mattered.

OF ALL THE horrors Asēkha-Tāseti had experienced over the past several weeks, nothing disturbed her as much as this. She knelt in the sand and stared at the
uttara
in disbelief, tears dripping from her eyes and splashing on the shiny blade. Tugarian swords were never willingly abandoned. And the other signs were even worse: red stains and black worms in the sand, and the remnants of footprints as wide as her shoulders leading northeastward in the direction of Anna.

Though
uttaras
were similar in appearance to the untrained eye, each was distinctive to a Tugar. This one had belonged to Appam, son of Asēkha-Dvipa.

Other than the blood, nothing remained of the Tugarian warrior. Had he been lifted and carried away? Tāseti didn’t believe it. What she suspected caused her to wretch.

“What is it, Tāseti?” Nimm asked worriedly from her perch on the camel’s back. “It’s just a sword. Why are you so sad?”

Nimm’s innocence caused Tāseti further torment. In her long life, she had never felt such despair. To make matters worse, they were almost out of food and water. And the camel, which had not been in the greatest of shape to begin with, was nearing the end of its endurance. How ironic it would be if the three of them died in the desert without ever encountering the monster whose footsteps they had so dutifully followed?

“What is it?” the little girl said again.

The camel coughed, blood spraying from its nostrils. Tāseti began to sob.

“Who is that?” she heard Nimm say, but Tāseti paid little attention. All she could concentrate on was the exquisite workmanship of the uttara’s handle.

“Hello?” came another voice, also distant. “Asēkha . . . may I approach?”

“Who is that?” Nimm repeated.

Though usually hyper-aware of her surroundings, Tāseti was slow to respond. When she finally raised her head, a woman stood just a few paces away. Tāseti lifted Appam’s
uttara
menacingly.

The newcomer dropped to her knees in obeisance. “Please do not harm me! I am no threat to the girl, much less to one as great as you.”

“Go away!” Tāseti said bitterly. “I have enough problems. I can’t afford to assume another.”

This time, it was the woman who cried. “I saw . . . I saw,” she mumbled.

“Saw what?” said Nimm, her voice wary.

Now Tāseti’s curiosity was raised. “Speak!”

The woman coughed and held her throat, beckoning for water. Tāseti reluctantly allowed her to take several large gulps from Nimm’s skin, which already was close to empty. After she had drunk, the woman seemed stronger.

“I saw the giant kill the Tugar . . .
eat
the Tugar. It was . . .
horrible
.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Nimm shouted, surprising them both. “Nothing can hurt a Tugar . . .
nothing
! Right, Tāseti?”

Tāseti did not respond. Instead, she glared into the eyes of the woman. “Then what?”

The woman’s whisper was barely audible. “Afterward, the giant grew even bigger. Twice as big. And it hurt me to look at it. Burned my eyes. Black smoke came from its mouth, and it stank, even from far away. I buried myself in the sand, so that just my nose was above the surface, and lay without moving. I believe the giant knew I was there, but after eating the Tugar it was no longer interested in me. Still, hiding saved me from the other monsters—the normal-sized ones—that were following her. When you’re covered in sand, they can’t seem to smell you. That’s how a lot of us have stayed alive. When the monsters come near, we bury ourselves. Some of the time, it works.”

“How big?”

“Asēkha?”

“How big was the monster?”“Afterward, you mean? Taller than any tree that grows in Tējo.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Nimm repeated. “She’s
stupid
,” she said directly to Tāseti.

Tāseti sighed. She took a tiny sip from her skin, which also was almost empty. All together, what they had was barely enough to last Nimm and her a day, much less allow any for the camel. Despite its suffering, the beast stood loyally beside her, blood oozing from both nostrils.

Now it was almost noon and as hot a day as Tāseti had ever experienced. Even Tāseti was getting dizzy; she could only imagine how Nimm and the woman felt. The small portion of Cirāya that remained in her belt-pack was her only hope,
their
only hope. Tāseti was amazed that she had allowed herself to become mired in such a desperate situation. It had all begun with Nimm, but it wasn’t like she could have abandoned her. If they had more water and a stronger camel, she could send the girl with the woman to Wuul and then chase Tathagata by herself on foot. But without Tāseti to take care of them, their chances of survival would be minimal, especially with fiends seemingly wandering around everywhere.

“We need shade,” Tāseti said. “I believe there are some rock outcroppings not far from here. We’ll move slowly and do our best.”

“I can come with you?” the woman said.

“Yes. But I will say when we drink and how much.”

“You are Asēkha,” the woman replied, as if that were all that need be said.

“I don’t feel like one now.”

They managed less than a league before the camel collapsed. Nimm was thrown to the side, but she landed in soft sand and was unharmed. The camel coughed and wheezed, its legs kicking in a series of spasms. Tāseti used Appam’s blade to end its misery, then knelt before the beast and kissed it on the snout.

“
Tumhe marittha bahuumaanena ca vikkamena. N’atthi uttara pasamsaa
(You died with honor and bravery. There is no higher praise),” she said. These were the same words that Kusala had used to honor the slaves that had been killed in their battle on the border of Java. To Tāseti, that seemed like ages ago, though in reality it had been less than a month.

Tāseti hacked off one of the camel’s rear legs and flung it over her shoulder.

“If we can find shelter, at least we’ll have some meat.”

By midafternoon, all three were stumbling like drunks, though the woman had proven to be more resilient than Tāseti could have hoped, carrying Nimm piggyback for surprisingly long stretches. When they finally reached the outcroppings, they barely had the strength to crawl under cover. But Nimm surprised Tāseti by grabbing her goatskin and slithering into a crevice in the rocks barely a span and a half in width.

“Where’s she going?” the woman said.

“Sometimes she finds water.”

“She’s an amazing little girl. She reminds me of my youngest daughter.” Then the woman burst into tears. “Gone . . . all gone.”

Nimm remained in the crevice long enough to make Tāseti anxious. She could barely slide the thickest portion of her arm into the crack that the girl had entered, much less crawl in to find her. Just when she was getting ready to shout into the narrow opening, Nimm reappeared with a smile on her face.

“Water!” she said proudly, reaching out and handing Tāseti the skin, which was now almost full. “It’s just a trickle. That’s what took me so long to fill it. But it tastes great. Drink it all and then give it back—and the other skin too. I’ll fill them both.”

While Nimm was gone, Tāseti built a small fire out of some scraggly bushes that grew among the tumble of boulders, and then she began the slow process of roasting the thigh meat of the camel. When Nimm re-emerged, she stood up and stretched out her body.

“It was tight in there. If I weren’t so skinny from not eating, I don’t think even I could have gotten to the water.”

“You’re very brave,” the woman said.

“Brave . . . why? It’s cool. And safe. Except for spiders and snakes. But I’m careful.”

Tāseti managed a chuckle. “You’re as slippery as a snake.”

Nimm laughed. “That’s what Huta used to say.” Then she lowered her head. “I guess he’ll never say it again.”

The woman placed her arm around the girl’s slim shoulders. “I’ve lost all my family, even my children,” she said to Nimm. “Do you think you and I could become friends?”

Nimm didn’t respond with words, but she leaned against the woman and closed her eyes.

“We all should rest,” Tāseti said. “When we reach Anna, there’ll be food and shelter aplenty. I’ll make sure the two of you get your very own tent.”

The woman smiled, then leaned her head against Nimm and fell asleep. Tāseti watched them both and found herself feeling grateful that the woman was with them.

“I don’t even know her name,” she thought.

As Tāseti grew drowsy, she pondered the fate of Anna. What would she find when she arrived there? Surely the monster could not pass through the Simōōn. Not even a great dragon could perform such a feat, even from the sky.