“I did this,” she said.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it? Why is this pile just mothers and children?” She had noticed the same thing he had. “It’s probably because the ones who can fight have run off, inspired by the Voice. Inspired by those damnable prophecies. They’re off picking fights they can’t win, because they believe in Keta’s fairy tales.” Thera used her damaged fingertips to brush aside a lock of hair that was covering the little girl’s face. “This is my doing. I caused an uprising, and now they’re getting stepped on like bugs.”
He couldn’t argue, because she was probably right. The Law had very little patience for rebellion. “I don’t know what caused this, but if you send me to collect heads, then you will be responsible for the repercussions. An attack will surely bring a response.”
“Saltwater,” Thera muttered. “We’re still a long way from the Cove.”
“A very long way, and we weren’t expecting this much activity in the region either. They might catch us even if we try to remain unnoticed. They might even find us if we turn back and flee for the swamp. Our trail is impossible to hide and will look like casteless fleeing for the border.”
“So we’re damned no matter what.”
“Before you make a decision, you must know the warriors who did this will be striking another casteless quarter tomorrow.”
“How many live there?”
“I was told that one is home to a few hundred. But if the warriors are truly coming for all of the casteless in this province, that’s only a fraction of how many will perish in all.”
Thera was silent for a long time. The only sound was the buzzing of flies. Finally, she stood up and dusted her hands off on her coat.
“You know, Ashok, I’ve always looked out for myself. Nobody else was my problem. I survived because of that. When there was trouble I’d vanish into the crowd and never look back. How did I end up responsible for all these people? Was the bolt from heaven random, or did the Forgotten pick me for a reason?”
“I have no answers.” It was hard to know the will of something they couldn’t even begin to understand.
“Because if it was just chance that it hit me, then I’m not special. It could’ve picked any unlucky fool. I should do what I’ve always done. Run and hide. You know, the two of us could just walk away right now. Forget the gods, forget the Law. Leave the casteless to their fate. Let the fanatics have their rebellion. We could disappear and let everyone assume we’re dead. It would be so easy.”
The idea sounded appealing. He had thought of it himself a few times. Yet he doubted the gods had chosen her randomly, any more than mighty Angruvadal had chosen a little casteless blood scrubber to be its bearer on a whim.
“If the Forgotten picked me for a reason, then he wanted a child of house Vane. Vane, who once conquered the entire west, who are still the fiercest warriors in all of Lok. Not only that, he wanted the firstborn of Andaman Vane, leader, hero, rebel, who always did what he thought was right, no matter the cost.” There was steel growing in her voice now. A decision had been made. “If the Forgotten chose such a woman to be his Voice it can only be because he desires a war like nothing the world has seen before.”
“Have you started to believe your own prophecies then?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of running. But if the prophecies are true, that means the Forgotten also delivered to me the most dangerous man alive to be my sword. If I’m truly the voice of the gods, then I declare I’ve had enough. I want to see you treat these murderers like you used to treat lawbreakers. I want them to feel as powerless as the casteless have. I want the Black Heart to strike fear into the real criminals.”
Ashok looked again at the bodies, and he too saw them as people. “So be it.”
Thera turned to him and gave a command that would change everything.
“Ashok, go to war.”
Chapter 9
Ashok twisted the sentry’s head around so hard that his spine snapped like a twig. As he quietly lowered the body back into the tall grass, he saw the other sentry be engulfed by two Somsak raiders. They were ruthlessly efficient. A hand was clamped tight over his mouth so no warning could be shouted as knives rose and fell in the moonlight. Then that one too was gone from sight.
As the warrior beneath him shuddered and died, one leg twitching, Ashok sharpened his hearing and waited. There was no one else moving on this side of the encampment. From the sound of it, most of the others were asleep.
They’d not stationed too many men on watch, and most of those were on the opposite side of the camp, guarding the valuable horses. Their overconfidence had been expected. They were on a mission to exterminate vermin. Who was going to threaten them inside their own borders? The casteless? They’d probably laughed at that idea. Who needed sentries when you could smell them coming?
Their lack of discipline further angered Ashok. Didn’t they know this was war?
Well, they would soon enough.
The big moon Canda was full and bright, so the Sons had used one of the sunken gullies to approach unseen. When they saw the sentries go down, the others rose from their hiding places and began skulking forward. They’d fought demons and wizards together, but tonight would be the first time they fought against other warriors. If all went according to plan, it wouldn’t be much of a fight at all.
Toramana and his hunters were on unfamiliar ground, but they still moved with lethal silence, bows strung and arrows nocked. They spread out to engage the remaining sentries the instant the alarm was raised.
Satisfied everyone was ready, Ashok stood up, and walked directly into the warriors’ camp. The Sons followed.
Shekar had estimated fifty by the tracks. Ashok had brought thirty. He would make up the difference through surprise and overwhelming violence.
The air was chilly, but there were only two small campfires going. From the smell, they were mostly burning dried dung they’d gathered along the way because wood was scarce. They cast little light, but many flickering shadows. All the better for their quick and grisly work.
There were only a few small tents, probably for the comfort of officers and the higher-status men, but most of the warriors just slept in bedrolls under the stars. Most would be deep asleep. He knew from personal experience that a day of hard travel and massacring villages tended to be tiring. Well, not Ashok, but he’d often seen the weariness among the warriors obligated to help him, and the distant stares as they tried to forget what they’d done.
Ashok drew his sword, slow and quiet. He went to the first bedroll, where a warrior was asleep on his back, and jabbed the sword directly into his heart. The warrior never woke up. He simply stopped breathing. The next was on his side, so Ashok cut his jugular. The noise he made was probably mistaken for wet coughing by anyone who was still awake.
The Sons fell upon the sleeping warriors as well. This wasn’t battle. It was murder.
Ashok continued his murder walk all the way to the command tent. Behind him, the silent culling continued.
There was one junior nayak posted at the front of the command tent. He must have heard something, because curious, he stuck his head around the corner. Ashok promptly struck it from his shoulders.
The horses had smelled the blood and begun to whinny nervously. Some warriors woke up and immediately shouted an alarm, only to be immediately stabbed, slashed, or bludgeoned by the Sons who were already next to them.
The instant the sentries on the perimeter turned their heads to see what was going on, a dozen bowstrings thrummed.
Ashok stepped over the headless corpse and ducked inside the command tent. There were two men in here, and they must have been important enough that they’d even brought cots for them to sleep on. The Heart sharpened his vision. One of them had the look of an officer, middle aged and gone to fat. From the mask dangling by cords from the edge of his cot, the other was an Inquisitor. Ashok killed that one immediately.
The risaldar wok
e to the noise of his traveling companion gurgling and gasping, and then shrieked like a child when he saw the hooded form of Ashok looming over him. He grasped for his sword, leaning against the cot. Ashok simply yanked his sword from the Inquisitor’s ribs and used it to slash the officer’s fingers off.
“Quit your screaming,” he ordered. Not that his were the only screams in the camp now that actual battle had begun.
The risaldar struggled to get off his cot, but Ashok kicked his ankle out from under him, hard enough to shatter the bone. Then he reached down and picked up the wailing man by his hair. If this one had ever been much of a fighter, he’d forgotten how long ago.
“Who are you?” the officer gasped as he clutched his ruined hand to his chest and tried to stand on one leg.
“I am Ashok Vadal.”
The risaldar lost control of his bladder. “Spare me, Black Heart, please. What do you want?”
“I’ve come to take your horses, supplies, and lives. Order your men to surrender and I will remove the last one from my list.”
✧ ✧ ✧
By the time the sun rose, there were over thirty dead warriors in a pile—larger—but not too different from the pile they’d found yesterday. Higher status, but they’d taste the same to the birds. The remainder had been stripped of their uniforms, and were standing in a line, naked, barefoot, and shivering. Most of them were injured to one degree or another. Standing twenty paces behind them were the Wild Men with their bows, ready to dissuade the foolhardy.
Ashok walked in front of the line. Word of his identity had spread. The majority of the prisoners were afraid to meet his gaze, and instead they exchanged terrified glances. They knew of his reputation then. Good. That would save time.
“I’m willing to spare you, but in exchange you will return to your Thakoor to inform him that the casteless of this land are now under my protection. This indiscriminate killing of those who’ve broken no Law ends now.”
As Ashok walked down the line, he found that most of the warriors were scared to death, but a few were seething with anger, the will to fight still in them. He thought about just killing those now to save him the effort in the future, but honestly, their rage meant they were the most honorable ones in the bunch.
“Tell your brothers that I have no quarrel with Akershan, but any warrior who raises his sword against the innocent from now on becomes my enemy.” He stopped in front of one of the proud warriors until that man worked up the courage to look Ashok in his cold dark eyes. “Those, I will show as much mercy as they have given to the casteless.”
That warrior looked down.
When he got to the end of the line, the officer he’d crippled was sitting in the dirt, hand wrapped in a bloody rag. He looked like he’d spent the rest of the night weeping.
“Warn your Thakoor that if he continues to harm these casteless, I will come for him personally, and visit carnage upon his house in measure equal to that which he has bestowed upon them. Now go and tell him.”
The risaldar actually seemed baffled by that sudden command. “But you’ve left us no rations. We’ll starve.”
“You can graze like the sheep you are.”
“You took our horses, took our boots even! You expect me to hop on one bare foot all the way to the great house?”
“If your men respect you, they will carry you. Unless you are the incompetent coward I suspect you to be, then they’ll leave you for the buzzards and tell their rescuers you perished by my hand.” As he said that, he looked back toward the brave ones, and from the subtle glance they shared, he bet this risaldar would be dead the instant the Sons were out of sight.
Ashok went back to the middle of the line. “As honorable warriors, you are obligated to obey the Law. I understand the difficult position this places you in. I have no easy answer for you. Start walking.”
Most of the warriors did. A few, it took a moment for the reality of their situation to sink in. One who’d been bashed over the head by a club must have been having a hard time thinking at all, because he didn’t move until he got shoved by a surly hunter. One warrior grudgingly helped up their officer.
There were two warriors of Akershan among the Sons of the Black Sword who had participated in the night’s raid. Their uniforms were faded and worn thin after wintering in the swamp, but Ashok had asked them to wear them still. He’d wanted the prisoners to see that there were men of their house and caste among their enemies. Let them worry about how many more there might be.
One of the Akershani Sons had covered his head with a scarf, hiding his features in case he might be recognized, because he still had family in these lands, and didn’t want them to be held accountable for his crimes. But the other was an orphan, siblings dead of a plague. With no loved ones left to be tortured by the Inquisition, he stood there, proud, as his former brothers marched past.
“Traitor,” the officer snarled.
“You abandoned your gods and lick the Capitol’s boots, butchering unarmed women on behalf of the Inquisition, while the Sons of the Black Sword have battled wizards and demons and won. Which of us is the real traitor?”
“There’s no such thing as gods, you fool. What’s your name, boy, so I can sic the masks on you?”
“Ongud Khedekar dar Akershan, and I no longer fear your Law, you son of a whore.” The young warrior raised his voice so all the prisoners could hear. “Heed me, brothers. The Forgotten has returned. I’ve heard his voice. I’ve seen his might. We are the Sons of the Black Sword! You can either join our cause or stay out of the way. If you don’t, Ashok Vadal will end you all!”
Ashok scowled. He would have to say something to the men about using his name in such a manner. It was one thing to kill the enemies of Thera’s god, but it was another thing to be used as a recruiting tool for him.
As he watched the defeated depart, Ashok was joined by his two junior officers.
“We should’ve killed them all when we had the chance,” Shekar muttered.
“Perhaps.” That had been his initial inclination. Ashok wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone, but if he was killed, then it would fall on them to finish the mission. “Yet Thera wished for this house to taste fear. By the time these survivors are found crossing this sea of grass, they’ll be sunburned, dehydrated, with feet blistered and bleeding. Let these proud warriors be seen made into pathetic wretches.”
“And even with that, they’ll be seen as the lucky ones,” Eklavya chuckled. “Assuming they don’t come across a casteless mob they’ve chased from their quarters along the way, because then they’ll never be seen or heard from again.”
“I’ve no love for the non-people.” Shekar spit on the ground. “But that would be a downright poetic end for this bunch, getting their throats cut by fish-eaters.”
Eklavya gaped at him. “How can you insult the chosen people? The Keeper of Names had declared the casteless to be the true descendants of mighty Ramrowan. They’re the ones who’ll eventually defeat all the demons!”
“Then they’d better step up and start acting the part, buncha weak-armed cowards. I’ll gut whoever the general says needs gutting, but if we’re to bleed for the fish-eaters, they’d better be willing to bleed for themselves.”
“One of the prophecies says that when the time comes, the Forgotten will deliver weapons into their hands, sufficient to overthrow the Capitol.”
“Enough,” Ashok said. Keta and Thera could hammer out their doctrine and leave him out of it. He had no time for legends of heroes falling from the sky when there was work to be done. “We’ll take their horses, but leave a few hunters to guard the captured supplies and pack animals until the main column catches up. We’ve work to do.”
“Where to next, General?”
He was no tactician. Protectors normally worked alone, or in small units, and even when they were functioning as part of a larger force, they usually roamed about doing whatever they felt like. Yet, he recalled the lessons of Sword Master Ratul. The best time to in
flict damage upon your opponent is before he knows you are there. An army was bigger, but the principle remained the same.
The Inquisitor’s orders had been left in the risaldar’s tent. Ashok had read them and studied the map. On the afternoon of the twenty-eighth of Phalguna, today’s date, three paltans were to converge on the slums of Dhakhantar. It was one of the bigger towns in the region, with a large casteless quarter that had grown up around their coal mines. Since it was notorious for harboring rebels, the warriors had wanted to surround and then strike with overwhelming force. This paltan would not be arriving, but that left two more to be dealt with.
The Sons had marched all day, then run until midnight to catch up with these warriors. They were tired, and would be outnumbered three to one, but they wouldn’t have an opportunity like this again.
“We ride for Dhakhantar.”
Chapter 10
They crested the eastern rise and found the town of Dhakhantar spread across the valley floor below them.
Ashok signaled for a halt so the rest could catch up. Most of them were from the warrior caste and were fine riders. However, those from the worker caste had been abused by the pace, and the poor swamp hunters had never been on a horse before. For them the morning had been a terrible experience atop unfamiliar beasts. Toramana had already fallen off his mount twice.
The casteless quarter was easy to pick out. It was the shanty town on the north side of the valley. It had sprung up below the gaping holes in the hillside that had to be the coal mines. Luckily they’d made good time, so the quarter wasn’t on fire yet.
Between the casteless quarter and the town itself was a bustling worker district of factories and brick buildings whose purpose was a mystery to Ashok. Smoke belched from tall stacks as the workers went about their industrious tasks.
On the west side of the valley was a warriors’ camp, only it was far bigger than the one they’d just raided. There had to be over a hundred soldiers already there. The other two paltans had arrived. They had just been waiting for this one before beginning their attack.
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