The soldier finally passed between the two cliff walls and continued pushing forward. “There are many behind us! Move faster!”
The ground almost seemed to shake as the pounding feet and roars of the Rezzian army arose from below. Sanyat felt the rumbling noise in his chest.
The Pawelon soldiers hiked up the trail, filling the area to create a dense wall of bodies. As the Rezzians approached, the Pawelons raised their shields into a tight tapestry to block the Rezzian throwing spears.
The attack began with the sounds of arrows and the screams of injured men.
A spear banged against Sanyat’s shield, just above his head, and knocked him onto his knees. The man to Sanyat’s left grabbed his arm and lifted him up again. Sanyat found his shield more difficult to keep steady with the spear embedded in it.
“Hold strong! Hold position!” a Pawelon commander yelled.
A resounding cheer arose down the slope from the Rezzians.
“What’s happening?” the soldier asked.
“I can’t see,” the dark-skinned soldier beside him answered.
Screams arose from the Pawelon forces, in one section after another, followed by the disturbing howls of injured and dying men. Sanyat felt his heart beating faster, his mouth dry from his quick breaths.
He pulled back his shield just enough to see what was happening. He watched a massive golden beast leap over his head. A lioness, larger than five normal lions, landed on nearby Pawelon shields and knocked over dozens of men.
“Their king is here,” the soldier beside him said, “and his lions are huge again.”
Sanyat fell as the men behind him pushed forward. He cried out as heavy Pawelon boots stomped on his legs and over his back. The harrowing sounds of dying men surrounded him.
He was just beginning to stand again when one of the golden beasts leapt toward him.
Its paw knocked the wind from his chest and pressed him to the ground. Sanyat squirmed beneath its incredible weight, unable to breathe.
He screamed as the beast’s fanged mouth tore into his skull.
The Rezzians marched on to higher ground, to the citadel itself, as Pawelon stocked its high walls with archers and sages. The Rezzians stopped within view of the fortress, outside the range of bows and arrows.
The great storm began with gale winds howling around the great fortification. Every now and then the wind carried an audible hint of a woman’s screams. Moisture rapidly condensed throughout the area. The wetness stuck to the walls of the citadel, collected along weaponry, and slid down soldiers’ bodies under their armor. Expanding brown clouds tumbled in from the east like fat ghouls seeking souls, darkening the earth and sky.
The wind and rain slammed against the fortress, wave after wave. Pawelon’s archers struggled atop the walls to keep from being thrown to their deaths. Many failed. Pawelon’s sages focused their powers to weaken the elements, but the storm of the Rezzian divinities raged on.
Indrajit climbed the stairs of the tower at the northeast corner of the fortress with two impressive guards behind him and two more ahead. The scent of rain brought an ironic freshness to the musty chamber. The viciousness of the storm echoed throughout the stairwell from far above, interspersed with the shouting of commands. Rezzia hadn’t threatened the citadel so convincingly since the early years of the war.
They walked in silence. Indrajit preferred to think. He recognized the turning tide. He’d hoped that with the royal daughter in a Pawelon prison, the Haizzem would not have the power to overwhelm Pawelon’s defenses by himself. Making matters worse, the king’s lions had grown in power and Rao was still too injured to concentrate on his abilities. Perhaps if Rezzia could be kept at bay a few more days, Rao would be able to keep the Haizzem’s power in check.
Indrajit carried another burden. He worried about Rao’s wishes and plans for the king’s daughter and Strategos Duilio, but especially matters regarding the royal daughter. His soldiers had relayed to him the topics of Rao’s daily conversations with the Rezzian woman, and each day the trust between Rao and Lucia seemed to grow.
The severity of the storm surprised Indrajit as he neared the tower’s top. Its force seemed greater than he had expected in every way: the remarkable strength of the wind, the explosiveness of rain smashing against stone, the haunting woman’s screams.
Briraji stood where he had been assigned, in the protected chamber at the top of the tower. He stood with eyes closed in a meditative posture surrounded by three other sages and far too many archers trying to hide from the storm.
“Briraji, come with me.”
The other sages and the soldiers stood at attention and saluted Indrajit with their fists raised high. Indrajit turned away.
Briraji followed as they headed back down the stairs to the first alcove that would afford them some privacy. They sat on uncomfortable stone benches against the walls, facing one another. A small candle flickered, battling the cool draft, in the deepest corner of the tiny room. Indrajit’s guards were sent to wait for them at the top and bottom of the tower.
“How does it look?” Indrajit asked.
Briraji scowled, looking down and then up again. “I can do nothing against the storm. None of our sages can.”
“Why not?”
“There are two Rezzian goddesses working together to create the storm. Their powers are combined, much greater than the sum of the two.”
“Then the king’s daughter is invoking her goddess’s powers.”
“Almost certainly, General.”
“As I feared. We can’t risk her presence any longer, not with those markings on her arms. Kill her.”
Briraji bowed. “Right away, General?”
“Yes. We’ve waited too long.” Indrajit stepped outside the alcove to make sure no one else was nearby, then returned to his seat. “I’ll tell you what I have heard about Rao. He has been speaking with the king’s daughter every day. She still doesn’t fully trust him, but she has softened her doubts. He continues to hint to her they should find a way to negotiate a peace—”
“And by that,” Briraji interrupted, “he likely intends to return this female Haizzem to the Rezzian army in exchange for Narayani.”
“Of course Rao would be fooled.”
Briraji shook his head in disgust and swung an arm through the air in frustration.
“Kill her now. The storm should weaken once she’s dead. Knowing that Rao is around her makes me uncomfortable.”
“I will, General.” Briraji stood and saluted.
Indrajit remained seated. “And relay this order to my trusted officers around the prison before you kill her. If our prince gets in your way or theirs, if he does or says anything that indicates he wishes to free any Rezzian prisoner, kill him too. Without another warning, those soldiers and sages must kill Prince Rao. He will not use our prisoners to negotiate with.”
“What if our rajah finds out?”
“These men are loyal to me. If it comes to that, tell them to blame his death on the king’s daughter. If that fails and I need to deal with Devak myself, I will.”
Briraji looked down at Indrajit, drawing and releasing one long breath. “I will certainly follow and relay your orders.”
Briraji gave Indrajit’s commands to the two trusted officers stationed at the prison. The long-serving officers had been reassigned from their combat duties after the king’s daughter was captured. Briraji watched them relay the orders to their men.
The sage walked up and down the wide hall of the prison, staring at the metal doors to the cells and the stone walls. Water still dripped from his uniform. The handfuls of soldiers patrolling the hall wore the finest Pawelon armor, combinations of leather and plates covered in dark blue and purple cloaks, and carried only well-maintained shields and spears. Indrajit had taken the prison’s defense with the utmost seriousness.
Briraji reflected on his orders. The woman was still recovering from what should have been her fatal wound, but he was convinced her markings showed her to have
the powers of a Haizzem. She had not used any of her magic since being captured, not overtly, but she had most likely contributed to the storm outside with her prayers.
He decided how he would kill her. He would suffocate her in a black psychic field, searing her consciousness with burning embers.
Once he decided how it would be done, he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Prince Rao. The prince was old enough to take his father’s position, should anything happen to Devak.
Briraji stopped in front of the door to the royal daughter’s cell.
“Do you wish to enter, sir?” The soldier standing beside the door asked.
Briraji centered his mind and visualized her death. He saw it clearly, giving him confidence he would be able to do it whenever he wished to.
“Not yet,” he said.
He began walking the hallway again, one persistent thought tempting him.
I will find out where the prince’s loyalties lie.
Decided, he stopped at Duilio’s cell instead.
“Let me in,” he told the nearest soldier.
The old Strategos was sitting up when Briraji entered.
“Good day,” the old man said in Pawelon. “What is going on with the weather?”
Briraji smiled a little. “Your goddesses.”
The Strategos showed no reaction on his face.
Oh, I know you’re happy to hear that. “And that is why Lucia is going to die.”
Ha. You can’t hide your emotions this time.
The Strategos ran forward to the metal bars of his cell and pleaded, “You don’t need to do that. She’s much more valuable to you alive. If you hurt her, you will suffer the wrath of my king.”
“He’s not your king anymore. You’re our prisoner and slave.”
“Please think this through. Think of how Pawelon will suffer from Rezzia’s vengeance.”
“We don’t intend to suffer.”
“Our king has fought a noble war, focusing his efforts only on your army. Kill his daughter and he will do everything he can to make your people suffer. Think about what you’re doing.”
“We are not intimidated by your impotent king.”
“Think of the Haizzem then.”
“I will match your Haizzem. Our young prince almost finished him.”
“This will be a grave mistake, sage. I swear to you.”
“Good day, Strategos.”
The doors closed behind Briraji as the old man continued to beg.
Briraji exited through the front of the prison and began walking through the raging storm. He pushed through stiff wind and stinging rain to find Prince Rao.
Chapter 70: Honor Among Enemies
A DRENCHED PAWELON SOLDIER entered Rao’s room. The balding man stopped just past the doorway and sneezed as he saluted.
Rao interrupted the old healer who was massaging a warm oil along the length of his body. He stood, wearing his simple loincloth, and returned the soldier’s salute. “Thank you for surveying the battle.”
“Of course, Prince Rao.”
“How does it look?”
“I’ve never seen such an effect. Both armies have become spectators. The storm is doing actual damage to our eastern wall.”
“How much damage?”
“I would guess it’s possible that sections of the wall could be destroyed within days.”
Unbelievable. “Have our sages been able to do anything about it?”
The soldier frowned and shook his head. “If they have, not much, my Prince.”
A terrible fear had been gnawing at Rao throughout the day, ever since the storm began: Was Lucia’s goddess involved?
“Have you seen any lightning today?”
“Yes, my Prince.”
“How much?”
“Some. Not a lot.”
“Thank you. That will be all.”
If Lucia’s goddess was responsible he needed to speak with Lucia right away. He told the healer, “Please leave. I need to rest and regain my strength. I want no interruptions. No one can enter my room. Go tell everyone else I am not to be bothered.”
The healer bowed and exited as asked.
Rao dressed himself again in his sage’s uniform. He stretched his arms over his head and twisted his torso. His muscles still ached severely from head to toe, but at least the pain seemed to be lessening a little each day.
Unsure about what would happen when he spoke with Lucia, he couldn’t risk being seen by anyone until he reached the prison. Rao closed his eyes and visualized the sacred syllables of Aayu’s sadhana across his inner vision. He felt his body becoming lighter—then his body shivered, his musculature clenched in pain, and the benefit of Aayu’s sadhana failed. His stomach felt ill. He sat on his bed to recover his strength. The failure reminded him that his body was still drained of ojas.
Try again.
He concentrated perfectly for seven long breaths and activated Aayu’s sadhana successfully the second time. He slipped out through the barely open door, and shut it behind him. With luck, no one in the building would know he’d even left.
Once outside, Aayu’s sadhana allowed him to walk through the courtyard without the vicious downpour touching him. The soldiers who were trying to walk between buildings dealt with the stiff gusts. Many advanced slowly as they struggled against the wind; those moving with the storm stumbled forward like drunkards.
A figure coming from the prison walked toward him. Rao looked down at his body reflexively to see if he remained hidden. Of course I am hidden. The storm has no effect on me. Briraji came into view. The sage looked even more intense than usual as he fought the storm, heading toward the same building Rao had just left.
Should I find out if he is coming to speak with me?
Rao watched the great sage dig into the dirt with his heels, pushing himself through the terrible storm with gritted teeth.
No. He wouldn’t approve of what I am about to do.
Rao felt another shiver just as he neared the entrance to the prison. His stomached rippled with sickness again. The effect of Aayu’s sadhana dissipated. The storm winds blew against his body, drenching his uniform.
He approached the building and walked under the cover of the parti-colored canopy, which normally created shade from the sun. Three soldiers and one officer blocked the entrance. As he approached, one of the soldiers, a heavy man, put his hand on the pommel of his short sword. The rest of them stared.
Something feels wrong.
“May I enter?”
The men stepped back enough to allow entry, each with a solemn look on his face.
“What brings you here, Prince Rao?” The strong-jawed old officer raised a sharp eyebrow. His hands rested on his belt.
“You won’t need your blade, will you?” Rao asked the soldier whose hand remained on his weapon.
“Of course not, my Prince.”
The officer nodded as the soldier lowered his arms to his sides.
Rao searched the men’s eyes, but found no camaraderie. “I would like to see the prisoner again. I want her to answer for this storm.”
“Aye,” the officer said, “she cannot be trusted.”
Rao exhaled, releasing some tension, and nodded in agreement. “She is a Rezzian dog, after all. What do you think about this storm, men?”
One of the soldiers spoke slowly while looking at the others as if to gauge their reactions. “It’s not right, is it?”
“No, it’s not right,” a different soldier said. “It’s not right at all—”
The third soldier interrupted, sounding more certain. “We have our duties, no matter what may come.”
“Right,” Rao said. “I heard our losses were severe among the southern defenses today.”
“They were,” the officer said. “I spoke with Briraji not long ago.”
“He was here?” Rao asked.
The officer pursed his lips and his jaw muscles twitched as he clenched them. He nodded just enough to indicate yes.
“Do you know where Master Briraji went? I need to speak with him.”
“I don’t know, my Prince,” the officer said. “I am certain he will be back soon.”
“So many men dying.” Rao looked around, shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“It is a war,” the officer said. “And anyone foolish enough to stand against Pawelon must die.”
“Yes, of course. All of you are fully committed to your duty, then?”
The third soldier said, “Yes, we are.”
“You are good men.” Rao raised his fist in salute. “You make my father proud.”
The four returned his salute.
Rao walked further into the building, still feeling the tension from the previous encounter. He wondered what Briraji told the guards. They seemed to eye him like a threat.
He stopped to focus on his breath and recall the place’s layout. The ancient structure had been adapted to hold prisoners, so there would be no places to hide. He took a sudden turn into the wide hallway to his right, toward the guards’ chambers. Streaks of grey light streamed through a few small windows at the end of the corridor. At the end of the hallway, three armed guards paced the shadows.
Two of them stepped forward and halted, blocking entrance. “Honorable Prince Rao! Please stop! We have orders to allow no one into this area.”
“My brothers, have you heard what is going on out there? It’s a nightmare. We can do nothing against this storm. I have been sent by order of my father, your rajah, to claim the arms of the Rezzian prisoner. She once used her goddess’s sword and shield to create a deadly lightning storm. We believe I may be able to use these objects to end this storm.”
They glanced at one another, avoiding responsibility.
“You’ll let me in then?”
A second soldier spoke up, “These were strict orders from general Indrajit. No one, he told us, no one can come in here.”
“Of course he did, and you are in the right. But now things have changed. The rajah himself commanded me. Please. Open this door for me.” Rao walked toward them, doing his best to seem relaxed and confident. “Or give me the key.”
Two of them looked at each other for an answer while the third looked aside and scratched his head.
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