Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (32 page)

Ever since his moment of agony above the Green Plains, Bhayatupa had found himself praying that the sorcerer would not cause him such pain again. It entered Bhayatupa’s tortured mind more than once to confess his ploy and pledge eternal allegiance, but something held him back; whether pride, courage, stubbornness, or stupidity, Bhayatupa could not say.

“Down!” Invictus shouted again, and the dragon complied, first circling the central keep and then flying low above the three battlements. Bhayatupa expected a barrage of well-aimed arrows—harmless to himself but maybe, just maybe, deadly to his tormenter, but none were loosed. Some unexplained discipline stayed the archers’ hands.

To his utmost distaste, Bhayatupa recognized Mala. The Chain Man was striding angrily away from the first bulwark, but the whooshing sounds of the dragon’s wings caused the
Adho Satta
(Low One) to turn and look skyward. Bhayatupa recognized fear and confusion in Mala’s expression, and it gave him momentary satisfaction. But again, the sorcerer caused the chain around his neck to erupt, and Bhayatupa howled even louder than before. Despite the misery clouding his vision, Bhayatupa saw the Chain Man collapse to his knees, his chain also glowing. Then Mala managed to stand and salute his king, holding something in his hands that Bhayatupa had never seen before: a trident taller even than its wielder. From it came a yellow heat that scorched the air.

“Up!” the sorcerer shouted. “To the east!”

The pain relented enough to allow Bhayatupa to continue. As he and Invictus soared away, Bhayatupa could hear the howling of Mala’s monsters, tens of thousands strong.

By midafternoon, they passed over Senasana. A few months before, while still in the sorcerer’s good graces, Bhayatupa had flown over the merchant city, its size, scope, and decadence impressing him. But now it was every bit as devastated as Duccarita. Smoke rose from the crowded marketplaces. Gleaming skeletons littered the wide roadways. Vinipata, the spectacular domed shrine, was aflame. Worst of all, hundreds of fiends wandered the streets, hunting for human survivors, though Bhayatupa doubted many were left. “This is the work of Vedana’s horrid little
undines
,” Bhayatupa mused. Nothing else could have created such witless havoc.

Bhayatupa landed in the massive courtyard within the temple complex. Invictus leapt off his neck and ran through the square this way and that, waving his arms and shouting.

“What is this? These were not my orders! Who has dared such a thing?”

A mob of fiends—as many as twenty score—scrambled toward the sorcerer, mistaking him for food. At first Invictus didn’t notice their approach, but when the leaders got within twenty paces, the Sun God finally heeded them. Bhayatupa heard him say, “Tcccch!” And then he waved his arms nonchalantly. Immediately the fiends caught fire and exploded into tiny flakes of ash.

“This
child
has more power than all of us combined,” Bhayatupa mused to himself. “Maybe even more than all living beings combined. What hope have we?” And then, more characteristically, “What hope have I?”

As was his wont, Invictus quickly regained control of his temper. Soon he was laughing and babbling like an overexcited toddler.

“Grandmother!
Grandmother
! You’ve done it again. You’re amazing.”

Then he walked over to Bhayatupa and spoke to him as if he still believed the dragon had not been altered.

“Look what she’s done. Can you believe it? I tried to unleash
undines
twice—and failed both times. First the annoying Death-Knower ruined everything at Kamupadana. And then some of his Asēkhas managed a similar feat near Ti-ratana. Meanwhile, Grandmother makes it happen without my even knowing.”

More fiends came, stumbling hungrily toward Invictus. Now when the sorcerer destroyed them, he laughed. But the sound was not comforting. Though Bhayatupa sat on his haunches and maintained a glazed appearance, he was internally horrified.

“Vedana, what have you done?” Bhayatupa thought. But he didn’t mean the destruction of Senasana. Instead, he referred to the creation of Invictus, a man-child who wielded power that dwarfed any god’s.

“We must find Anna,” the sorcerer said to him. “Do you know where it is?”

The words were so compelling, Bhayatupa almost answered. Instead, he remained motionless, attempting to maintain a pose of disinterest.

Invictus grunted and then climbed onto the dragon’s neck. “To the desert!” Invictus shouted, and Bhayatupa consented.

In truth, Bhayatupa did not know where Anna was. Since his awakening, he had flown no farther south than Senasana. But he believed it would be easy enough to locate. From the heights he was capable of attaining, the Simōōn would be visible for ten leagues or more, but by late evening, there still was no sign. Even Invictus was becoming frustrated. Just when Bhayatupa believed the sorcerer would order a halt to the search, Invictus noticed a trail of smoke darker than the night sky.

“Go there!”

They passed over a large oasis, its trees and bushes aflame. Small black figures raced to-and-fro. Bhayatupa’s finely tuned sense of smell detected more than just burning wood. Animal hide also had caught fire . . . camel hide, to be exact. The Tent City had been ransacked, and whatever had attacked it had somehow managed to lower the Simōōn.

“This is too easy,” Invictus said, disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping the Tugars, at least, could put up a better fight. How boring.”

Soon after, Bhayatupa and the sorcerer began the return trip to Avici. All through the endless night, Invictus squeezed the chain with his legs. All through the endless night, Bhayatupa moaned. When they finally reached the rooftop of Uccheda, it was past noon.

Invictus climbed off, opened a hidden door, and disappeared inside the tower.

Bhayatupa had had enough.

He waited.

Waited.

Waited.

And then flung himself into the sky.

THE SAME MORNING that the Jivitans left the White City to do battle with the druids, the monster that would become known in legend as Anna’s Bane stood on the border of the oasis that contained the Tent City. Far below, thousands of pesky prey scrambled around, making lots of noise. This only served to make her angrier.

And hungrier.

She already had gotten several tastes of Tugarian flesh and had found it much to her liking. She would not be satisfied until she had eaten a lot more.

Annoying stings pricked her flesh, mostly around her eyes. A few even pierced her eyeballs, which hurt the worst. But little real damage was done. She was too great for whatever feeble assaults the tiny ones could muster. She had grown beyond all of them—even the nagging voice inside her skull that used to cause the headaches. As her strength had grown, the voice had diminished, enabling Tathagata to focus on what she did best: kill and eat.

The nagging voice was gone, but so too was the voice that had encouraged her to attack Anna. This left Tathagata feeling a little disoriented, but also less constrained. She no longer had to pause and wait for the second voice to tell her what to do. Now she could make her own decisions. She would devour as many of the tiny black prey as her stomach could contain, while infecting a bunch of others with gentler bites. With these new fiends at her side, she would be able to conquer the world.

ASĒKHA-DVIPA, guardian of Anna in the absence of the king and chieftain, was stunned by how close the monster had come to the Tent City without the Tugars’ knowledge. Nor did this bode well for the welfare of the scouts that patrolled its perimeter. But as usual, the desert warriors were quick to react once the threat was revealed. Dvipa, the Vasi masters, and the five hundred remaining warriors were armed and ready, along with the rest of the non-warriors and citizens, some fifteen thousand strong.

The beads, coated with deadly poison made from ground-up blister beetles, seemed to be having little effect, even when striking the fiend’s eyes. Next, the Tugars tried fire, but the monster’s flesh would not even char. To make matters worse, the fiend was much faster and more flexible than seemed possible, and warriors who wandered too near were hard-pressed not to be trampled or ensnared. But worst of all was the black smoke that gushed from the fiend’s mouth, nostrils, and ears. The slightest exposure was enough to cause blindness. Already at least two-score Tugars, including a Vasi master, had succumbed and been led away just in time to avoid being eaten. Yet the fiend kept coming, reaching the outskirts of Anna and wading into the tents like a child intent on kicking apart a toy city.

Dvipa and the others discovered that they could tolerate the black smoke if they kept their eyes closed. But fighting a creature of such might with perfect vision was difficult enough; doing it without sight was next to impossible, even for a Tugar. So they were forced to keep their distance and watch as the fiend tore Anna to shreds. Dvipa had never felt so helpless. Was flight their only recourse?

The Vasi masters seemed more effective than the ordinary warriors. They were able to maintain a ring of defenders around the giant, performing an extraordinary version of
Aarakaa Himsaa
(away from harm). When the fiend made a charge, the masters in the front retreated, while those behind and on the sides closed in. They also wielded weapons that ordinary warriors—and even Asēkhas—tended to disdain, including poisoned darts and sharpened disks, both of which could be thrown with force and accuracy. But the fiend absorbed them all with what appeared to be only mild discomfort.

When Tāseti appeared out of nowhere, Dvipa had never felt so relieved in his life. The second in command was his superior, in all ways. Now the Tugars were in better hands than before.

WHEN SHE FINALLY saw the monster she had been tracking for more than a week, Tāseti was appalled. The fiend that had once been Sister Tathagata was four times as tall as a cave troll and many times its girth, yet it moved with extraordinary speed and grace. Ordinary humans could not have evaded it. Only Tugars were capable—barely.

Even from a distance, traces of the horrific smoke exuded by the fiend repulsed her, hurting her eyes and blurring her vision. Regardless, she raced forward without any plan, other than to do her best, though she feared more than ever that her best would not be good enough.

Dvipa was the first to acknowledge her presence. He raced toward her, his eyes red and swollen. “Tāseti, beyond hope you have come. Tell us what to do. The fiend cannot be injured.”

“What happened to the Simōōn?” Tāseti shouted. “And where are the rest of the Tugars?”

“An army of fiends marched into the desert from Senasana,” Dvipa said. “We were forced to lower the Simōōn in order to quickly send our own army against it. Afterward, I learned from Appam that you and Rati were approaching with the noble ones, so I left the whirlwind down. I knew nothing of this giant . . .” Then Dvipa sighed. “If only our king were here.”

“But he is not,” Tāseti said. “So the lesser must lead. Order all who remain to corral the fiend into the center of Anna. We will set the city aflame.”

“But the giant is impervious to fire.”

“The tents and trees will burn far hotter than brands,” Tāseti said.

Just then, she heard a terrible scream. A Vasi master had come too near and had been blinded. In an attempt to flee, his feet had become entangled in the guy ropes of a tent, slowing him down just enough for the fiend to kneel and grab him. A score of Tugars hacked at the monster’s thick wrist with their
uttaras
, but she blew a gust of the noxious smoke upon them, forcing them to scatter.

Now she was standing again, holding the master in one hand like a normal-sized woman would hold a wiggly iguana. Even as a swarm of Tugars hacked at the fiend’s ankles, she raised the master to her mouth and bit off his legs above the knees, boots and all. Amazingly, he continued to fight, pounding his fists against the fiend’s thick fingers. It didn’t matter. She shoved the rest of him into her mouth and swallowed. Then she howled in a voice that made Tāseti’s blood run cold. But she could not allow panic to affect her leadership.

“Order the masters to spread a ring of sulfur in a large circle around the densest area of tents and trees,” she said to Dvipa. “If we can get Tathagata inside it, we’ll roast her!”

“
Tathagata
?” As Dvipa looked up at the fiend, his face crumbled. “For the sake of Anna . . . no.”

WHEN TĀSETI HAD seen the smoke, she’d screamed and run ahead, leaving Nimm and the woman named Ura to fend for themselves. Though Nimm had cried for Tāseti to wait, the Asēkha did not heed her.

“What do we do now?” the girl said, her voice quivering.

“We have no choice but to follow,” the woman said. “We don’t have enough water to turn back. Our only hope is to seek protection among the Tugars.”

“But the
monster
is there!”

“And so are the Tugars. I would rather die at their side than alone in the desert.”

Nimm started to cry again, but she fought it back. Ura was right. It was time to be brave. She would kill the monster herself, if it meant saving Tāseti.

“She needs our help!” Nimm said.

Ura managed to chuckle. “There’s an old desert saying: ‘One foot in front of the other.’ Follow me, child. And hope for the best.”

THE NEW PREY was wise to the dangers of her breath, which was little more than essence exuded from the Realm of the Undead, where blindness was a natural part of existence. If they chose to scatter and flee, she doubted she could catch many of them, but they seemed determined to confront her. One came too near, apparently growing overconfident in its ability to stay out of range, and she spun and vomited black smoke at its face. The prey became entangled in one of the tents, and she pounced on it. Others attacked, but several more exhalations scattered them. Then she stood and bit off her victim’s squirmy little legs with her ultra-sharp teeth.

Though the taste was exquisite, she considered putting the prey back down and seeing if it would transform. Then she decided she had wounded it too severely for it to be an effective fighter, so she jammed the rest of its body into her cavernous mouth and swallowed.

Instantly, a new surge of strength coursed through her sinews, causing her to howl with pleasure. For a few moments, she didn’t even notice the others hacking and stabbing at her feet, ankles, and calves. Eventually it hurt enough to cause her to want them to stop, so she exhaled more smoke. They scattered again.

With her newfound puissance, she kicked at the tents with her gnarled feet, tearing them out of the ground, stakes and all, and sending them flapping through the air like wounded bats. Some of the larger tents, which were staked in dozens of places, resisted more than the others, but eventually all of them were torn asunder. Most of the prey had moved to her right and were screaming at her, waving their arms, and casting the annoying beads with their slings.

She lunged at them, growling, and they ran, only to regroup a pace or two—by her measure—farther away. Then they screamed and waved their arms again. The fiend found this new behavior highly annoying. She tore a
bethoum
from the ground, roots and all, and heaved it at them. At least one was injured, and she charged forward and grabbed him before the others could rescue him. This one, however, was not one of the new prey, and it provided relatively little sustenance.

This made her even angrier, and she began to fling trees, tent posts, and furniture in all directions. Most of the prey avoided the barrage, though a few were injured enough to slow them down, and she ate each one. But it seemed as if the only ones she could catch were the weak kind. The new prey were too clever.

Now it was well past noon, and the heat of the desert was massively intense. She found herself in the densest part of the city, surrounded by
bethoums
, date palms, and much-larger tents, some of which were almost as tall as she. She tore at them too, ripping them to shreds like a dog obsessed with a rag, using her teeth as well as her hands. When the fire began to blaze, Tathagata was too frenzied to even notice. By the time she did, she was trapped.

THOUGH SHE NEVER doubted their courage, Tāseti’s people impressed her—and not just the warriors and Vasi masters. Even the five thousand who were not pureblooded Tugars fought just as hard as the others, though they were at far greater risk. The fiend continued to make kills, but only two more Tugars were taken among the victims, and none of those warriors. Tathagata seemed as intent on destroying Anna as she was on feeding, and of those she managed to kill, none were left in any condition to convert. Still, the desert warriors watched carefully. If any of their kind were wounded and appeared to transform, they would dispatch them without mercy. An army of Tugar fiends would be deadlier than any other. It could not be permitted to exist.

While some distracted the fiend, the rest of the Tugars and ordinary citizens of Anna enacted Tāseti’s plan. Barrels of sulfur, which normally were used to superheat the fires that smelted their exquisite blades, were emptied in a circle around the densest area of tents and trees. Creosote bushes and other brush were added to the pile, but a large opening was left to allow the fiend to enter. When Tathagata entered the circle, all inside evacuated, and the opening was closed.

Tāseti struck the first flint. A ring of fire burst one hundred cubits into the sky, trapping the monster in its sweltering grip. The tents and trees within the circle also blew into flame. The heat became so intense, Tāseti and the others were forced to back away and watch from a distance.

Almost as quickly as it raged, the inferno subsided, its fuel consumed with stunning rapidity. Many of the tents beyond the circle also were engulfed, but the Tugars made little effort to extinguish them. Smoke was everywhere, obscuring their vision. Surely no monster could have survived such a blaze. Even a great dragon would have been hard-pressed had it not been able to escape to the sky.

When Tathagata emerged from the inferno, she shattered Tāseti’s hopes. The fiend’s flesh was charred black, and what had remained of her hair was incinerated, but her fiery eyes were wildly alive, and her enormous body still moved with fluidity. The fire had failed.

“We must flee!” she heard Dvipa say, and then a gush of smoke, frighteningly black, overwhelmed him, and he fell. Tāseti ran toward her fellow Asēkha, shouting, “No . . .
NO
!” But the fiend got to him first, lifted him, shook him viciously, and bit off his left arm. Then Tathagata smiled and cast him into a burning tangle of tents. Dvipa lay still.

Tāseti scrambled though the flames and knelt beside Dvipa, pressing her fingers against his neck. To her dismay, she discovered that his broken body contained no life, but soon after his eyes sprang open, and he attempted to stand. Tāseti did not hesitate, taking off his head with five ferocious strokes. In the time it took to perform this mercy, Tathagata loomed above her. Tāseti reacted too late.

She was lifted high into the air, her arms—and
uttara
—pinned helplessly at her sides.

WHEN NIMM AND Ura reached the outskirts of Anna, the destruction staggered them. Fires blazed everywhere, including an enormous one in the heart of the Tent City that burned so hot they could feel it on their faces a mile away. A swath of ruin led toward the conflagration. Nimm ran through it, with Ura stumbling behind, shouting for her to stop. But the woman was exhausted, and the nimble girl a step too fast.

The tower of flames in the interior of Anna suddenly collapsed upon itself. Ordinary smoke spewed forth, spreading in rolling waves. Nimm was momentarily blinded, but still she ran, as if awake in a nightmare of darkness. Ura’s voice grew progressively dimmer.

When Nimm finally could see again, the monster that had attacked her family stood only a stone’s throw away. But now it was as huge as a sand dune, and it held the warrior who had saved the girl’s life in one of its massive hands. Tāseti’s head lolled as the fiend flung her about.