Thera had never led an army before, but her father had led many, and she’d practically memorized all his stories. The idea of what was basically a small raiding party crushing three paltans without losing a single man wasn’t just unrealistic, it was absurd. As Andaman Vane had always taught, no matter how good you were, or how lucky you were, bad things happened in battle. A group of warrior castoffs, workers, and swamp men who’d never ridden horses before shouldn’t have been able to take on such a superior force at all, let alone win. And without great cost? Impossible.
Keta would surely give all the credit to the gods, but Thera needed to know what had really happened. “How?”
“Surprise, terrain that favored us, and a prideful adversary,” Ashok said as he dismounted. One of the workers immediately rushed up to take the reins from him. “Take good care of this animal. Make sure he is cleaned and fed. He did well today.”
“Yes, General!”
Thera still couldn’t get over how eager the religious fanatics were to serve anyone their god hung a title on. Only Ashok had spent most of his life as one of the highest-status men in the land, so he was probably used to such things. Though right then he didn’t look like any first-caste man, being filthy, covered in dried dirt and matted blood, and stinking of sweat, both his and the horse’s.
“It appears our numbers have grown,” Ashok muttered as he looked across her mob.
“We’ve been coming across refugees all day, casteless who’ve fled ahead of the warriors sent to murder them.” Most of the newcomers were thin, sickly, and weak. Some of them had hacking coughs. Many of them were weeping or in shock, because their loved ones had just been put to the sword over recent days. It was a motley bunch.
Ashok just scowled.
She knew what he was thinking. This was a lot of slow feet and hungry bellies. “They fell in with us. What else was I supposed to do? Turn them away?”
He had only just arrived, but already those who’d come from the swamp were telling the newcomers about how the man before them was the mighty Fall. It was long after sundown, and everyone in their hasty camp who hadn’t been given some other pressing duty began gathering around the fire to hear their returning legend speak. Only Ashok didn’t seem to care for their attention. Instead he sat down on the ground next to her, and simply said, “I need food.”
One of the women they’d freed from the House of Assassins immediately rushed to ladle him some stew from the kettle placed over the fire. The magically befuddled slaves still didn’t communicate, but they seemed eager to serve when given the opportunity. If this camp was to survive, everyone would need to pull their weight. So even though it made her feel guilty to do so, she’d ordered them to work. They were rather proficient at preparing food and caring for the livestock, which made sense, since that was what their wizard masters had forced them to do.
The slave gave Ashok a bowl of their stew—made from every edible shoot, mushroom, or root they’d come across, and any animal that had been unfortunate enough to blunder into the path of their column that day. It was hearty, but Thera didn’t know how long that would last.
Ashok stared into the fire as he ate, the exhaustion plain on his dirty face. Even the strongest man could become worn out. Thera passed Ashok a jug of water that had been resting next to her knees, and he immediately gulped down half. Then he stopped, ever practical, and asked, “What is our drinking-water situation here?”
“Plentiful. There’s a clean stream nearby.”
“Good.” Then Ashok dumped the rest of the jug out over his hair and used his least dirty sleeve to try and scrub the caked blood from his face. It made a small difference. Then he looked across the crowd of curious and hopeful faces. “What are they staring at?”
“Their hero,” Thera explained. “Who the gods sent to avenge them.”
Ashok snorted. She thought it was absurd too, but if the belief kept these casteless orderly, she’d use it.
Thera had spent the whole day’s march worrying that in her anger she’d sent Ashok and the Sons off on a mission of certain doom. Seeing the scene of that massacre had infuriated her, but as her calm had returned, she’d begun to think through all the terrible ramifications of her hasty command…Yet it seemed none of those worries had come to pass. If Keta was here, surely he would proclaim this as a sign that the gods were really on their side, as he did every stroke of good fortune, which usually sounded like childish superstition to her. But frankly, for this she didn’t have a better explanation.
Ashok continued his report between spoonfuls. “We ran all night, assaulted a camp, rode all morning, and fought a battle. The Sons needed to rest. They’ve taken the warriors’ encampment outside Dhakhantar. I left Eklavya in charge and warned Shekar not to loot the town. Looting seemed inappropriate. I returned alone to warn you.”
“Warn me of what?”
“We were lucky today. The warriors did not expect such resistance in their own lands. They will not make this mistake again. A great many warriors escaped. Word will spread. Now that they know there’s an enemy force here, they will be searching for us.” As if to accentuate the dire situation, Ashok pointedly glanced around the camp. “A group like this will be easy to track, easy to find, and far too slow to evade pursuit. It will take several days for the Great House to get word and a few more to mobilize all their forces, but after that the whole army of Akershan will come after us.”
His grim assessment delivered, Ashok put the bowl to his lips and began to shovel in food.
“I thought of that after I sent you off to provoke the entire warrior caste.” Thera wasn’t the type to sit and fret about problems. As a criminal, she’d needed to think fast to stay ahead of trouble. She tried to tell herself this was similar, only now she was planning for a great number of people rather than just herself. Small gang or big gang, same principles, just with more potential executions if she mucked it up.
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Out of our whole band, we had one man with a head for military tactics, and Jagdish is walking back to Vadal beside a fat merchant and a donkey train full of demon parts. So in his absence, I asked myself, what would Jagdish do?”
Ashok shrugged, as if to say he wasn’t sure either, and continued chewing.
Thera continued, “We need to get these people back to the hideout, but without the Akershani following us and finding the secret entrance. Only this many feet leave quite the trail and the way this damnable grass bends, even a blind man could follow us. Normally warriors wouldn’t bother with a column of casteless refugees, which is surely what our sign will look like, but according to that injured man you found, the warriors are supposed to hunt all the casteless down, every last one.”
“The letters I found in the defeated camps confirm that all of them are to be exterminated. It seems your rebellion has greatly angered the Capitol.” Ashok must have been starving, because he handed the swiftly emptied bowl back to the woman who was still waiting to serve him and said, “More.”
“But the rebellion is how we’re going to slip away. You know what leaves an even bigger trail than us?” When Ashok didn’t immediately answer her riddle, Thera proudly declared, “Cows.”
“I do not understand the significance of cows.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. First casters never have to concern themselves with mundane things like where their food comes from. Keta told me of a family of fanatics who live near here, worker caste, but secret believers in the Forgotten. They are drovers and occasionally supply the rebels with meat. This land doesn’t have much besides grass, but it’s great for grazing. And the workers here move vast herds of cattle back and forth as they eat down the grass. They winter them on the plains, but it’s normal to move them up to the mountain valleys to feed after the snows melt. That’s the direction we’re heading.”
“You intend to order the cow people to drive their animals behind us, to obscure our passing.”
“I don’t know much about catt
le, but they’re hardly graceful. All that stomping and pooping is sure to obscure our trail.”
“This seems reasonable.” Ashok nodded. “Clever.”
It was interesting that when dealing with a man who was so frugal with praise, when praise was given it meant more. “Thank you, Ashok.”
He paused inhaling his stew long enough to say, “But it will not be enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hooves may destroy your tracks, but not hide all these bodies from the eyes of a scout. After suffering a defeat at the hands of such low-status foes every warrior in Akershan will be offended and eager to avenge this insult. The plains are big, but not big enough to avoid them for that long.” Ashok leaned forward and used his finger to draw in the dirt. “We are here. The Sons are here in Dhakhantar. That’s where the warriors will be converging, but they’ll have a large number of scouts roving ahead. You need to head west toward the mountains, but there is no way you’ll make it past unseen. However, if I take the Sons to threaten Chakma—a valuable prize—it will surely draw the warriors’ attention and your path will be clear.”
Thera frowned. His plan made sense, but it also placed the Sons, and Ashok himself, in great danger. “I don’t think it’s wise to split our forces again.”
“Understandable. You’ll need the Sons to protect this mob. Then send me alone. I should be a sufficient distraction.”
Thera looked at Ashok like he’d gone mad. After all that they’d been through together, was he still trying to kill himself to be free of his obligation to her?
She started to snap an angry response, but then realized that there were a great many eyes on the both of them. To these people, they weren’t Ashok and Thera, fallible individuals who got tired and made mistakes, they were the Forgotten’s warrior and the Voice of the Gods. And many of these people had just fled from their homes, narrowly avoiding death. They’d lost everything they had, and members of their families too. All they had left was faith in their cruel and illegal god, so the last thing they needed to see was his representatives bickering.
“An interesting idea, General, but let’s discuss this privately so we can seek the wisdom of the Forgotten to see which way he wants us to go.”
Ashok gave her a curious look. He knew very well her low opinion of the Voice and its wisdom. Of course he didn’t understand her desire for privacy, because he probably spent even less time considering their follower’s feelings than the feelings of their supposed gods, but she was his sworn master, so he said, “Very well,” and stood up.
The two of them walked away from the fire, out into the tall grass, until she was certain they were far enough away nobody would be able to overhear even if she got angry and raised her voice. “You’d go to Chakma by yourself? Are you truly that desperate to be rid of me that you’d rather commit suicide?”
“Dying is not my intent.”
“It’s the most likely outcome. You don’t have your magic sword. You’re not a one-man army anymore. And you said yourself how angry the warriors are going to be.”
It surprised her that it was Ashok who ended up raising his voice. “Then you should have thought of that before you ordered me to attack them! Blood has been spilled, Thera. I can’t stuff it back in their veins.”
“I know.” She looked up at the sky full of stars and sighed. “You’re right.”
The two of them stood there for a long time, quiet. It was still cold, but the wind had tapered off to a slow breeze. Canda was full, and its white light gave the endless sea of grass an almost fuzzy glow. The second moon, tiny Upagraha, was barely noticeable making its swift line across the sky. Back in the camp, a child laughed. It was an odd sound considering their circumstances, but it just went to show that moments of happiness could be found in the strangest circumstances. It would’ve been a nice night, if they weren’t drowning in troubles.
“I volunteer, not because I wish to die, but because it is my duty to make sure you live.”
She believed him. And though it made her feel worse to recognize the truth, it made her feel better to hear him say it. “There’s got to be another way.”
“In the morning we will rendezvous with the Sons. Perhaps we will come up with a better plan by then.” Surprisingly, it appeared that Ashok was trying to comfort her. “In the meantime, do not regret your command to avenge the dead casteless, for it saved many lives today. The casteless quarter in Dhakhantar would’ve been slaughtered if not for you. They will probably still die before this is over, but for now they have a chance.”
He may have been trying to comfort her, but he was terrible at it. “I never wanted to decide who lives and who dies.”
Ashok nodded. “When you are a leader it falls on you to make difficult decisions. My sword master always told me that every choice has consequences, but once committed, you must see it through. Hesitation leads to defeat.”
“Ratul told me basically the same thing.” It had come as quite the surprise, during a conversation back in the swamp, when they’d realized the same man had instructed both of them. Ratul had taught one of them how to be a Protector, and the other how to be a prophet. It was odd, how the same man could teach both the most legal and the most illegal trades in the world. Though Ratul had much more time to teach Ashok—and much better luck getting his lessons to stick—than he had with her. At times it seemed like Ashok was the paragon of relentless perfection, while Thera felt like she was drowning in water over her head, blundering about, trying to survive, clumsy as her scarred-up hands.
“He was a maniac, but with good advice. Sometimes.”
“Good old Ratul,” Thera muttered.
“Good?” Ashok snorted. “He was anything but good. That crazed fool kept it a secret from the entire Order that he thought the gods were whispering in his ear. Then he found you and abandoned the Law to help a rebellion.”
“And now you’ve taken his place…So who is the crazy one?”
Ashok just shook his head. “The gods do not whisper to me.”
“Though on occasion, they shout.” It pained her to show weakness to anyone—especially to him—but it needed to be said. “Listen to me, Ashok. I need you. I need you with me.”
“Do you say this as the prophet, or as a woman?”
She couldn’t discern his expression in the moonlight. Amid all this suffering and strife, deep down, did he also wish for a normal life? Was he even capable of such thoughts? Or was that just her own wishful thinking? And in that moment, Thera hated herself for being weak, and for briefly allowing herself to have dreams.
“Either. Both. It doesn’t matter. I’ve survived a lot on my own, but I can’t do this. We were both forced into these roles against our will, but here we are. It is what it is. These people are counting on me. I’m counting on you to get us to the Cove. There we can be safe. For a while at least.”
Even as she said it, deep down Thera wondered if the gods or the Law would ever grant them that small mercy.
Chapter 15
“The sun rises. Thus begins a new day in the merry journey of the warrior Jagdish, his loyal companion Forge Master Gutch, and their team of hardworking pack animals.” The big man sat up, stretched his arms, and then twisted his head back and forth to pop his neck. He groaned. “Ah, I never thought I’d miss sleeping in a swamper’s hut, but deer skins make for a softer bed than this hard ground.”
“It’s not been so bad since it quit raining on us,” Jagdish replied as Gutch wandered into the bushes to relieve himself. “Walk further out. You’ll scare the donkeys.”
“Only because I piss like unto a mighty waterfall,” Gutch shouted back. A minute later he wandered back into camp, yawning and taking in the trees around them. “What a beautiful day.”
Jagdish looked up from the breakfast he’d been preparing over their small campfire. He’d taken a small copper frying pan from the Wild Men, and it had proven remarkably useful. There was a surprising amount of food available in this region, once the
Wild Men had taught him where to look for it. “You’re in a fine mood this morning, Gutch.”
“Despite having pointy rocks sticking me in the kidneys and spine all night, that’s because by the light of dawn this place looks to be far more forest than swamp, which means we’re that much closer to civilization. I tell you that civilization is a damn fine thing when you are wealthy men, as we shall both be as soon as we sell all that.” Gutch gestured to the giant pile of sacks and saddlebags they’d stacked against a tree trunk the night before. “There’s enough demon parts there to keep us in wine and pleasure women until the end of time.”
Jagdish chuckled. He knew where his stubborn traveling companion and partner in crime was going with this, because they’d already had the same argument every single day of their journey. “Do with your half as you wish, Gutch. But you know what I intend to do with mine.”
“Donate it to Harta Vadal in the vain attempt of restoring your name, right before he has you publicly executed for riding with Ashok the Black Heart? A fine plan, that.” The worker walked over to their fire, and then sat down on a fallen log across from Jagdish. “What’s for breakfast?”
“I found a nest full of eggs while I was on watch.”
“Bird or lizard?”
Jagdish shrugged. He was assuming grouse, but it could go either way out here.
“Who am I kidding? There could be baby demons inside and I’m still hungry enough to eat them…” Gutch trailed off. “Do you suppose demons lay eggs?”
“Why would they do that?”
“They live in the ocean, like fish. A casteless told me fish lay eggs. Casteless even eat those.” Gutch shuddered. “Fish lay eggs in water, so it just stands to reason demons would too, Risaldar.”
That wasn’t the kind of philosophical pondering he’d wanted to start his day with, but it beat Gutch pestering him about his plan to return to his Vadal homeland. “Well, we’ve now harvested more demons for parts than anyone else alive, and I still couldn’t tell you one way or the other how their insides work. Besides the bones and the general outline, they’re nothing at all like a man or any animal I’ve ever seen.”
Destroyer of Worlds Page 14
