Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (6 page)

KUSALA, CHIEFTAIN of the Asēkhas, wasn’t sure why, but he felt relief rather than alarm when Yama-Utu appeared on the upper balcony of Nissaya’s keep and took King Henepola in his burly arms. The snow giant was mentally disturbed—perhaps beyond recovery—but there was a part of the creature that “grew on you,” as Kusala’s Vasi master liked to say. Without Torg around, Utu was Henepola’s only hope to be cured of the dreaded spells the sorcerer Invictus had cast upon the king.

Utu remained standing and held the unconscious king like a father cradling an infant son. To Kusala’s surprise, Henepola’s head and neck became enveloped in a swirling green fire that soon engulfed his entire body. Madiraa, daughter of Henepola, began to sob, but whether from sadness or wonder, Kusala could not surmise. Indajaala also appeared amazed, as if in the presence of a being with magic vastly superior to his own.

For what seemed like a very long time, the king did not move. Then without warning, he arched his back and let out a deafening scream, startling even Kusala. Soon afterward, Henepola’s body went into a series of spasms, making it difficult even for Utu, who was several times larger and many times stronger, to retain his grip. For a moment, Kusala feared that the king would wriggle free and tumble off the balcony to his death. But the snow giant did not relent. Finally Henepola’s body relaxed and lay still again. As if in response, the green glow faded. Now the king appeared to be sleeping within the giant’s embrace.

Utu bent over and gently passed Henepola to Kusala.

“I am overly large to squeeze through the portal,” he said in a soft voice. “Return the king to his bed and watch over him until he awakens. If he asks for water or food, give it to him, but in small portions.”

“Will he live?” Madiraa said, tears still streaking her ebony cheeks.

“His body is healed, but I cannot speak for his mind,” Utu said with what sounded like compassion. “My abilities are not what they once were.”

“They are greater than ours, regardless,” Kusala said.

Then Kusala left the balcony and laid the sleeping king on the soft mattress within his chamber. Madiraa knelt beside the bed and took her father’s hand. For the sake of privacy, Kusala went to the doorway and peered into the hall. Two powerful Asēkhas, Churikā and Podhana, stood there with
uttaras
drawn, still facing a group of heavily armed sentries and squires. But neither the Asēkhas nor the king’s men seemed interested in fighting one another, and Kusala was relieved to see that there had been no bloodshed.

“Lower your weapons,” he said to everyone. “We are all friends here. The king has been rescued from peril, but it remains to be seen whether he will survive the ordeal.”

“Kusala!” Madiraa shouted from her father’s bedside.

Kusala turned and peered back into the room. “Yes, princess?”

“Tell the squires to bring a dozen
Yādava-samas
(rabbis) to the king’s chambers immediately.”

Kusala started to repeat the order, but several squires had already scrambled off. He was pleased.

“Return to your duties,” he said to the Asēkhas. “You are no longer needed here.”

“
Ema
!” they said in unison and strode down the hall toward the stairs.

Kusala returned to Madiraa and placed his hand on her shoulder. Indajaala stood timidly nearby. Henepola lay on his back on top of the bedcovers, his dark face peaceful. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he might have been dead. His white hair, tangled and greasy when the chieftain found him sprawled over the basin, now was silky and unsoiled. The snow giant’s magical essence had burned away the grime and left the king scrubbed clean.

“I will pray for him,” Madiraa said, not taking her eyes off her father’s face. “The snow giant healed the king’s body. The energy of God, born during the creation, will heal his mind.”

“As you say, my lady.”

“I love him, Kusala—with all my heart. He can be gruff and rude. But he is a wonderful man and a great king.”

“I doubt it not. Do not forget that I have known him since his birth. Let us hope that he returns to being the man he was before he dared to use his scrying basin and challenge Invictus to a psychic battle of wills.”

“Is that what occurred?”

“Indajaala and I believe it to be so.”

Madiraa’s head twisted toward the conjurer, the king’s long-time aide. “If not for the kinship I hear in Kusala’s voice, I would have thought you played some role in this evil.”

“I can testify that he did not,” Kusala said. “Quite the opposite: Indajaala always had your father’s best interests at heart. But he is a friend of the Tugars, as well.”

“A spy, you mean,” Madiraa said, but Kusala sensed no anger.

“I have never done anything to compromise the well-being of your father or Nissaya,” Indajaala said. “In fact, I love them both. And you, as well, my princess.”

“These are strange times,” Madiraa said, “when a man I have long considered an enemy turns out to be a friend.”

“These are indeed strange times,” Kusala said. “But it is not men such as Indajaala who make them so. Lay the blame at the feet of the one who hails from Avici.”

Even as they spoke, six men and six women wearing black robes hurried into the room, their heads shaved bald, though the men wore long black beards. After catching their breath, they encouraged Madiraa to stand. Then they joined hands with the princess and recited a prayer of healing.

Before the completion of the first recitation, Kusala and Indajaala had passed down the narrow hallway to the dark room that contained the scrying basin. Kusala was relieved to find the silvery liquid lying dormant. He’d feared he would see Invictus’ face sneering at him.

Kusala lifted the clear-crystal basin off its obsidian base, dumped its slippery contents onto the floor, and then slammed the crystal onto an upraised knee, intending to smash it to pieces. But the basin withstood the blow. Kusala grunted, hoisted the basin above his head, and cast it onto the floor. It bounced and struck the wall, but did not crack. Angrier still, Kusala drew his
uttara
and struck the basin a mighty blow. Though the Tugarian blade was not notched, neither was the crystal damaged.

“I do not have the strength to destroy this thing,” he said to the conjurer. “Shall I cast it off the balcony? The long fall might destroy it.”

Indajaala set aside his spike of
Maōi
. “First let me try the king’s staff. There is great power in it, though Henepola wields it more impressively than I.”

The conjurer drew the staff from the hole in the floor and positioned its head over the fallen basin. “
DhunEti pEpa
! (Destroy the Great Evil),” Indajaala cried.

White fire leapt from the chiseled
Maōi
, striking the basin with the force of a lightning bolt. But it glanced off its target and ricocheted against the wall and ceiling, forcing Kusala to duck out of the way. Yet the basin remained unblemished.

“We cannot so much as scratch it,” the conjurer said. “How Henepola managed to craft this hideous thing is beyond my comprehension. Was Invictus in contact with him even before it was made?”

“I know naught,” Kusala said. “But I will cast it off Nagara, nonetheless.”

When he stepped back onto the balcony, he was surprised to find Utu still standing in the place they had left him.

“What have you there?” Utu said.

“The cause of the king’s illness,” Kusala said.

“And what will you do with it?”

“I will destroy it,” Kusala said, gesturing toward the railing.

“If it lands on someone’s head, the king will be angry with you.”

Kusala chuckled. “Do you have a better idea?”

“If you wish it destroyed, it can be done. Give it to me.”

Kusala started to hand the basin to the snow giant but was surprised to find himself hesitating. The white crystal was so beautiful. Perhaps he could hide it somewhere and then bring it back with him to Anna after the war. It would make a prized souvenir.

Indajaala joined them on the balcony, the goings-on appearing to puzzle him.

“Chieftain,” the snow giant said condescendingly. “This behavior is beneath you. Give it to me.”

Kusala chuckled. “What behavior? This thing means nothing to me. It’s just that I doubt you can destroy it, any more than we could.”

“Give him the opportunity,” the conjurer said.

Was Indajaala sneering at him?

“What if the snow giant runs off with it?” Kusala argued. “Who knows what damage it could do in his hands? Rather than give it to him, you and I should take it into the bowels of the keep and hide it.”

“Even from afar, the sorcerer is strong,” Utu said to Indajaala. “The mere hint of his powers consumes our friend. And there is a special kind of
Maōi
in the basin, as well. It too plays some role.”

They
both
were sneering at him.

“This is mine,” Kusala said. “Stay back!”

But then a dark hand closed on his shoulder, and he turned to see the wizened face of the king, who was leaning against Madiraa for support.

“Give it to the snow giant,” Henepola said weakly. “It is the only way.”

Kusala backed away from them all, pressing the rear of his legs against the low wall of the balcony.

“Kusala, turn your eyes inward!” the king said, this time with more vigor. “You saw what this thing did to me. Did you not learn a lesson? I thought the Asēkhas prided themselves on their powers of observation.
Give it to the snow giant
! It is the only way.”

“Very well . . . I care naught,” Kusala said, though he felt as if he were speaking to them through a wall of mist. He cast it at Utu’s feet. Immediately after leaving his hands, its hold over him vanished, and he stepped away from the balcony wall, his face flushed.

With surprising nimbleness the snow giant reached down and caught the basin before it smote the balcony floor. Then he examined it. Kusala became convinced that it would seduce the snow giant next. To his surprise, Utu only laughed.

“Yama-Deva was not defeated by the likes of this.”

The basin was as wide as Kusala, shoulder to shoulder, but in the snow giant’s hands it appeared about as large as a wide-brimmed hat. Utu held it in front of his chest and squeezed. At first the basin resisted the pressure, but soon after a crack formed on its rim that quickly spread. With an explosive blast, the basin shattered, casting shards in all directions.

With Madiraa’s help, Henepola stumbled forward and stood before the snow giant. “I have misjudged you,” the king said.

Utu nodded.

“I thank you for healing my body,” Henepola said. “I am in your debt.”

“We all thank you,” Madiraa said.

“I do not blame you for your distrust,” Utu said. “I am lost. But my quest is not—at least not yet. I still desire to release Yama-Deva from his torment. In the meantime, I will attempt to
behave
myself—for your good and mine.”

Then he turned to Kusala, who still felt slightly disoriented. “Do
you
require healing?”

Kusala let out a deep breath. “Nothing that a hard slap on the face wouldn’t cure.”

They all laughed with gusto.

Even Utu.