“What is this?”
“I bring a message from Rajah Devak.”
Lord Galleazzo, free me!
“He has your daughter. She lives, for now.”
“Where? Where is she?”
“She is with our prince. He contains and limits her powers.”
“Gods! We have the Pawelon girl. The one who went into the valley and interfered with the duel. I offer her back to you in exchange for my daughter.”
The voice hesitated for the first time. “What girl do you speak of?”
“She is … beautiful, young. She is a healer. She carried a leather bag.”
“I cannot address this matter now. I have the rajah’s message. He demands you call off this battle and this war. Call off these lions, all these men. Then leave the valley. He told me all that he would do to your daughter if you do not comply. Do you wish to know?”
Gods! Vieri was thrown into confusion. He couldn’t find an answer.
“He will personally beat your daughter, break her bones. Then ride her ten times, causing as much pain as he can—if you do not agree. Leave here now and your daughter will be safe.”
How do I even know he has her?
He visualized the battle: the lions tearing through Pawelon’s forces; the great clash of armies; the holy power of the gods against the dark magic of their sages. Then he thought of Pawelon’s giant rajah with Lucia beneath him …
Caio and I will find a way to save her.
“What say you, King Vieri? I have seen your daughter’s long, red hair. I know our rajah would find her young flesh appealing.”
“Whoever you are, my army’s charge ends now. Tonight, we will talk about an exchange of prisoners.”
“Then call your men off.”
The cruel face vanished into undifferentiated smoke, then into thin tendrils.
The fog within Vieri’s head cleared, too, replaced by the cacophony of colliding armies and oppressive heat beneath his armor. He looked to his sides; the warpriests still flanked him. Behind him, a cadre of officers and messengers waited for his orders.
“Total retreat! I’m calling for a full retreat! Go!”
Soon dozens of messengers rode off on horseback, yelling and giving signals with their hands. The drummers pounded out the call to fall back.
Vieri kicked his steed into a gallop and called to the troops in front of him.
“Get back, all of you! Pull back! I promise you, we will fight another day!”
Lord Galleazzo’s lions stopped in the desert and stood tall. Five males and five lionesses shielded the Rezzian troops as they turned back to the east, as the warriors of Pawelon cheered Rezzia’s withdrawal.
Chapter 64: The Drawing of Lines
RAO DREAMT OF VAST OCEANS rising up and covering the lands of Gallea. The global tsunami surrounded Pawelon on all sides and spilled inland until it swallowed the palace in Kannauj, leaving every parcel of dry land submerged. Every living creature drowned in the flood, ending the world of men. Directly above it all, the sun flashed, consuming everything in its light.
The soreness throughout his body woke him, overwhelming him. Before he could open his eyes, unique and overpowering herbal scents told him he was in the medical ward. Confused, he looked around the room. Long feathers from various birds believed to be auspicious for healing covered parts of the grainy wooden walls.
“Over here, bhai.” Aayu sat in a chair in a far corner, concealed by shadows. “You collapsed.”
“I did?” Rao sat up in bed and noticed the comfortable robe someone had dressed him in. The simple act of pushing himself up caused his back and arms to ache. “Some of the healing from the Rezzian goddess has worn off.” He relaxed his muscles and fell back onto the bed. “It hurts to move.”
“We carried the woman into a cell, then you passed out.”
Ah! That is the last thing I remember.
“Good. She’s here,” Rao said.
“Indrajit has some of his prized soldiers and sages guarding her. The healers are working on her wound.”
“Is Narayani back?”
Aayu shook his head and spoke softly, “Not yet.”
Rao’s heart became leaden again, and his battered body flooded with disgust. His limbs felt too heavy to move.
“Maybe she’ll escape,” Aayu said. “But I’m ready to do something.”
“Me too, but,” Rao realized his body wouldn’t allow him to do much, “it hurts to sit up.”
“You’ll heal fast, bhai. We’ll do the breaths together.”
“Thanks. I’m sure that will help.”
A young soldier walked in front of the open doorway. “My Prince, you are awake?”
“Yes.”
“The rajah and his general wish to speak with you.”
Devak and Indrajit had been waiting at ground level within the nearby tower. It didn’t take long for them to walk across the courtyard to visit with Rao and Aayu. They immediately questioned Rao about the events of the day and explained how Briraji was able to convince the king to call off the battle, leading to minimal casualties for both sides.
Rao’s father and Indrajit stood near the end of his bed. “There’s another matter,” Devak continued. “They say they have a beautiful young woman who claims to be a healer. They say she interfered with your combat and saved your life.”
“It’s true,” Rao said.
Indrajit’s face began to ripple with hot venom. “Explain this.”
“It’s my fault, Uncle.” Aayu was already standing out of respect. He took a step forward and looked directly at Indrajit. He spoke with confidence in his voice, “I taught her my sadhana. She told me she wouldn’t put her life in danger—”
“But she saved my life,” Rao interrupted. “It’s true. She distracted their Haizzem.”
Rao couldn’t keep their gaze for long. He looked down and felt his shame like a rancid stew in his stomach. Indrajit was steaming. His father’s face looked empty and stunned. Rao remembered the terms of the conflict.
“Then she interfered,” Devak stated the fact with reluctance. “They would be acting within the terms if they killed her. But,” he looked sideways, staring at the wall, “they have offered her back to us in exchange for the king’s daughter.”
“Excellent!” Rao felt lightness in his body, down to his toes. Aayu’s face turned sunny with his smile.
“No,” Indrajit spoke with finality. “We can’t allow the king’s daughter to rejoin their army. She is far too powerful. You know that.”
You despicable bastard …
“Father, can’t we use the royal daughter to negotiate? What if we tell them they need to flee the canyon?”
“I already did,” his father’s dry, throaty voice said softly. “We can’t swap the prisoners. We have the upper hand now. They have to leave.”
Rao couldn’t find words. Neither could Aayu.
Rao’s lips and arms trembled. “If they’re willing to give us Narayani, let the king have his daughter back. We can defend ourselves.”
“Absolutely not,” Indrajit said. “If he wants his daughter back unharmed, he will treat Narayani well.”
“How can you be so cold? We’re talking about your daughter.” Aayu’s voice shook with rage. “Don’t tell me—”
“Don’t you ever question me again, Master Aayu. You have already been warned.”
Rao spoke up to divert Indrajit’s attention from Aayu, “General, with respect, I think it’s only fair to exchange the women. We were in the wrong. Narayani interfered.”
“Thanks to her idiot cousin, and thanks to you almost getting killed. The royal daughter interfered, too.” Indrajit turned from Rao and glared at Aayu, who stood close to him. “You had your chance, Rao. Now they are going to have to end this war or fight without the king’s daughter on their side. We have their leading Strategos. They will not harm my daughter if the king wants to see his own alive again.”
Aayu stopped just short of bumping into Indrajit
. He yelled into Indrajit’s face. “What do you think they could be doing to your daughter right now?”
Indrajit swung his open fist.
Aayu tried to dodge the blow, but only turned enough to take the hard slap against the back of his jaw and ear.
Rao’s father moved in to separate them. “Soldiers!” his angry voice boomed.
Aayu stepped back, holding a hand to the side of his head. His breaths huffed out loud and hard.
Devak stood between Aayu and Indrajit. He pointed at Aayu as he spoke, “You were warned.” The room filled rapidly with armed soldiers. Devak told the men, “Take Aayu to confinement. Aayu, accept your punishment. You will have another chance.”
Rao watched, helpless. “Please, Father. I need Aayu’s help to heal.”
“No you don’t,” his father said, keeping his eyes on Aayu. “Aayu needs time to think about respecting his superiors.”
Aayu looked at Rao with a tight jaw and confused eyes as the soldiers approached him and grabbed his arms. He moved as they directed him, willingly.
Rao nodded at his friend. “Then please don’t keep him long. I need to work with him.”
Indrajit stood behind Rao’s father, watching Aayu leave the room. Rao had never seen Indrajit so flustered and red-faced.
“We’ll get her back, Aayu. Don’t worry,” Rao said. Indrajit turned his aquiline glare to Rao. Everything was changing too fast, spinning out of control. “You know,” Rao said to his father and Indrajit, “the royal daughter is probably more powerful than any of our sages. You need to be careful with her.”
“Briraji is among those watching her,” Indrajit said. “And she is very weak.”
“I need to watch her to make sure she stays under our control.” Rao looked Indrajit in the eye with a challenge. “She is the key to getting Narayani back—or to outright peace.”
“And you will let me and your father handle these matters.”
“You’ll also need my help to keep that woman in confinement. I’m still healing, and I can heal better with Aayu’s help. My whole body is sore.”
“We’ll need you if there’s going to be more fighting,” the rajah said. “Find another way to heal. I’m sure you can.”
Indrajit began walking out of the room. “They may attack again when they discover we have refused the exchange of prisoners. Come, my Rajah. Important matters call.”
They do for me, too.
Chapter 65: Prisoners to Men
LUCIA AWOKE, ALMOST DELIRIOUS FROM FEVER, lying on a wooden slab in a drafty cell that smelled of feces and urine. At least a handful of small torches scattered around the room cast flickering light on the grey stone floor and walls. She lifted her head enough to see perhaps a dozen Pawelon men, soldiers and sages, standing or sitting against the walls of the room. She found herself wearing nothing more than an unclean robe.
Ilario’s necklace was gone.
Much worse, her gloves were gone.
Danato, am I dreaming?
On her forearms, she saw the black, thorny vines, the markings of a Haizzem, markings she had borne since Danato first visited her in her dreams sixteen years ago. Her red and black palms were exposed. She dragged an arm across her body to touch her other forearm, staring at both limbs with panic.
Lord Danato, tell me I am dreaming!
Lucia remembered the other two times people had seen the markings. The first time it was a servant who found her sleeping after she’d dozed off without wearing the correct robe. The second time, a decade later, her lover in Peraece had pulled her sleeve down without any warning. Both times, they’d believed her when she denied its spiritual origin and told them they were tattoos in honor of her brother.
An ugly-sounding man’s voice rattled on about something.
Wait, he is speaking Pawelon.
She focused on his voice: “Yes, awake. She is touching her arms.”
She lowered her chin and lifted her robe to try to see the wound under her breast. A heavy cloth had been wrapped around her chest, reeking of exotic herbs. She kept her nose inside her garment, preferring the smell there to the one in the cell.
My goddess! How did I live?
She wondered about Caio. Was he safe and alive? She lowered her head against the hard thing they’d given her as a pillow, some kind of dense object wrapped in a coarse brown cloth.
Does my father even know I’m here?
The hinges of the heavy door whined. Lucia stayed flat on the wooden ‘bed,’ but turned her head sideways. Three men entered the room. In front walked a sage in a saffron officer’s uniform; his features were hard to make out in the dim light, but what she could see of his face was an unattractive nose and a scowl. Close behind him came a tall general with a stern face and powerful, beak-like nose. The third man stood taller and heavier than any man she’d ever seen who wasn’t obese; he loomed like two men combined in one body. His pockmarked face was motionless, like the calm preceding a storm.
“See for yourself, my Rajah, General,” the sage said in a low, monotone voice.
The men only made it halfway into the room before stopping.
“Raise your arms,” the general commanded in the Pawelon language. “I will not say it again. Raise your arms.”
Lucia did it, though her whole body ached with fever. The sleeves of her robes fell down against her elbows. She watched the men staring at her.
They remained silent for some time. “What is the meaning of this?” the giant man’s deep voice filled the room. “Answer me, woman.”
“They are tattoos,” she lied. “In honor of my brother.”
“She’s not telling the truth,” the sage said.
“I am!”
“You cannot fool me, you dog. I sense too much.”
Gods!
“They are,” Lucia paused, “tattoos.”
“She lies,” the sage told the others.
Lucia shook her head.
“If they are not tattoos,” the giant said, “what does this mean?”
The general answered, “That she is another Haizzem. She has already done incredible damage to our army. It seems reasonable.” He raised his voice. “Tell us, wasn’t it you who commanded the storm?”
“I don’t command gods,” she said.
“Give me a straight answer or you will suffer another wound,” the general said.
“I worship the goddess Ysa. I asked her for help. She controlled the storms.”
“Why wouldn’t we know of these markings?” the giant asked. “How could they keep this secret from us?”
The sage answered, “She wore black gloves covering the length of her arms. She wasn’t showing them to her men either. Perhaps it was a secret to most Rezzians.”
All of them, in fact.
The giant addressed her again. “I told your father that if your people continue his war, you’ll become my slave. You wouldn’t enjoy that. Not most of the time anyway. Your father will choose your fate.”
And that was unthinkable.
“He retreated with his army after he heard my message today, after the duel,” he added. “There may be hope for you.”
If Caio is still alive.
Narayani awoke confused, surrounded by darkness. She heard muffled male voices.
Light shone through the outline of a door before daylight flooded in and revealed an empty room with wooden walls, a moderately large box with no furnishings other than the dingy blankets beneath her. The air was stagnant and hot.
Heavy boots clomped and shook the wooden floor. Too many.
See the mantras, she told herself. Now.
The first three sacred syllables appeared in her inner vision, but large hands and long fingers squeezed her arms and forced her to stand.
“Where you take me?” she asked in Rezzian.
“To die, pig,” said an armored soldier with a large, bald head.
As the men dragged her out of the box, a structure she took for a detention cell, the landscape of the Rezzian a
rmy’s camp unfurled. Hundreds of tents sprawled in every direction, made of white cloth stretched taut and convex. Unarmed men in common Rezzian tunics wandered about, some keeping to themselves, others engaged in conversation. Most of them turned and stared, inspecting her with rough eyes set between crooked noses and bushy brows.
Hundreds more stared as she was dragged through the camp. They passed a tent with a handful of half-naked whores sitting outside of it. The women narrowed their hardened eyes and studied her.
Narayani’s heart pumped hard and fluttered. Her panting breaths made her feel lightheaded. What are they going to do to me?
The smell of roasting meat found its way to her nose. Concentrating on Aayu’s sadhana was impossible while walking.
They led her farther from the common tents, past five massive ones, to a more decorated, heavy, and round tent. Dark green vines had been painted around the cream fabric that encircled the structure. They stopped in front of double wooden doors and knocked.
“My Haizzem, we have her.”
“Bring her in,” Caio said from inside the structure.
Still outside, Narayani examined how the walls met the ground. She found no loose sections. Too many stakes tied the structure down tightly.
The door opened to foreign smells carried on smoky incense, both spicy and sweet. The Haizzem sat at the edge of his bed, facing her, with an empty bed beside him. At least a score of warpriests and soldiers either sat or stood around the room. Narayani found herself shoved into the tent from behind, and all eyes swung to her.
“Please, sit down,” the Haizzem said in a smooth, easy voice. He motioned to the empty bed and coughed.
Narayani hurried over and sat facing the Haizzem. It allowed her to turn at least one side of her body away from the men.
Caio turned his body to face her. “Please tell me, what is your name?”
Should I?
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I should. My father needs to know I’m here.
“Narayani.”
“Narayani, you must be scared. My father was very angry yesterday. He may still be angry. I will not let him hurt you.”
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