Now the Heart of the Mountain—rather than lending all its strength to his limbs—had to concentrate on keeping him alive instead. The bleeding stopped, but now his arms felt heavy and his legs burned.
The veteran Somsak realized that a terrible blow had been struck and the circle closed as Ashok finally got a grip and yanked the blade out of his back. He planted the dagger in a warrior’s neck and returned to the fight.
The roar of the flames was his beacon, and Ashok tried to steer the crowd in that direction. A few brave men hurled themselves at him, trying to entangle him, but Angruvadal saw that coming. He would not die crushed under a pile of bodies, and everyone who tried to lay their hands on him left those hands in the snow.
They’d neared the drainage ditch. Ashok kicked a shield and knocked the warrior holding it into the freezing water. From the way the man disappeared, thrashing beneath the slush, it was deeper than it looked. The ditch was fifteen feet across. Too far for even a strong man to jump across without a running start. With a roar, Ashok lashed out, swinging Angruvadal in a wide arc, trying to force his opponents back, and as soon as they gave him the tiniest bit of distance, he turned, called upon the Heart to give him strength, and leapt.
He nearly made it. Ashok hit the bricks on the far side with his chest. His lower body landed in the freezing water. It was an incredible shock to the senses. Scrambling for purchase against the ice, Ashok tried to pull himself out. He rolled to his feet, scattering bits of ice and fresh blood. Concentrating on his strength had caused the wound in his back to open again. He lifted his sword just in time to knock aside a hurled spear.
One of the Somsak tried to leap across after him. He made it half the distance and hit the icy water with a splash. The others gave him rude gestures and shouted insults as the soldiers armed with crossbows pushed their way through the crowd to take a shot. Ashok had no time for their foolishness and continued on toward the casteless quarter.
He was freezing. His clothing was soaked. Blood was sluggishly leaking from a dozen wounds, and Ashok cursed himself for using up so much of the Heart’s precious magic on someone so terribly unworthy. After passing through the swirling smoke what he saw on the other side came as a shock. He’d expected to find a slaughter, and that much was true, but the bodies he stepped over belonged to Somsak raiders, not untouchables.
The raiders on this side hadn’t seen him arrive because they were fleeing back toward the bridge. They had been beaten by makeshift clubs, stabbed with pointed sticks, and struck by thrown stones. The Somsak were fierce, but they’d not been expecting resistance, and they’d walked right into a maze of barracks and shanties where they were outnumbered ten to one, and set the place on fire.
There were at least a dozen dead warriors, and two or three times that many casteless bodies in view. Yet from the way the casteless were celebrating, dancing about and showing off looted weapons, they were considering it as a great victory. Little did they realize there were many more raiders on the other side of the bridge, and they’d be coming back, prepared and in force. Everyone here would be made to pay for this transgression.
“What have you done?” Ashok demanded. The casteless didn’t stop their celebrations, not for questions, and not even to battle the fires that were spreading through their quarter. “What have you done?”
They heard him that time; a few stopped, but most were too caught up in the moment. It was like a fervor had come over them. When they actually saw who it was they began to cheer. Fall. Fall. Fall. It sickened Ashok to the core of his being, these scum chanting his birth name while they desecrated the corpses of their betters.
Mother Dawn hobbled up to him, wearing a Somsak helmet backwards on top of her frizzy mane. “You had to pick your path, Fall, and we had to pick ours.”
“You had no right to kill them.”
She looked at him, coated in blood and filth, and judged him a hypocrite. “But you do?”
“I’m already condemned. An uprising is the gravest breach of the Law.”
“Have you come to punish us then, Protector?”
“That isn’t my place anymore, but it doesn’t make you any less wrong.” A young casteless man was crouched next to one of the dead Somsak and had taken a rusty old saw to his neck, intending to take a trophy. Ashok walked over and kicked the boy away from the body. “Leave them be.” The boy scrambled to his feet and ran away.
“Whenever we do wrong, they take our heads and stick them on poles as a warning to the rest,” the Mother explained. “Seems fair to give a warning back now, don’t it? Didn’t you used to do that yourself on occasion?”
Killing a man was one thing, but ruining his body out of spite so that his people couldn’t honor it later was different. Ashok had never cared for how they’d left the bodies of witches and traitor on the Inquisitor’s Dome to be torn apart by vultures either. “There will be no more of that.”
The Mother gave him a little bow. “We’ll do as you command.”
“Then run.” A horn blew on the other side of the fire. “The warriors are coming back and this time they’ll be ready. Is there another way out of this canyon?”
The old woman nodded. She nearly lost the helmet. “Our kin have lived here for generations, and unlike the workers who live harvest to harvest, our memories are long. Some of the old mines pass through the hills. There is a way.”
“Then take it.” He had no idea where these casteless would go, but the non-people were turning out to be full of surprises. He’d brought this suffering down on them, so it was his responsibility to make it right. He didn’t know why he cared, but he wanted to know. “The children I brought you?”
“Taken somewhere safe.”
“Good. I’ll hold them at the bridge.”
“You might stop these here, but the rest won’t ever stop now, Fall. Oh no. You’ve started something great. This has been a long time coming. There’s those in the Capitol who want every last one of us gone for good. There’s plans, and schemes, and plots, all waiting on what you do here today, and before the ashes even cool, the whole world will change. Once the boulder starts rolling down the hill, it won’t stop to heed the pebbles.”
There was no way some casteless crone from a mountain farming village in the middle of nowhere understood the will of the judges. “What are you?”
She gave him a toothless grin. “I’m merely an old lady more interested in the near future than the distant past.”
The horn blew again, two sharp, short blasts. The Somsak were coming. “Take your people and get out before I change my mind.”
Chapter 47
Keta peeked around the corner of the storehouse. The only people he saw moving were worker caste, and they were concentrating on putting out fires or caring for their wounded. There weren’t any warriors in sight. Not that either group wouldn’t murder them if given the opportunity, just that one would be a lot better at it.
Thera was at the other corner, trying to be discreet, but that was difficult when your stolen horse kept stomping and making noise. “Maybe we can take the mountain path the Somsak came down?”
“And go where? Deeper into the homeland of the house that’s trying to murder us?”
“Maybe there’s another trail that branches off that’ll take us back to the trade road. If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
They couldn’t swim an icy river. Waiting around until that was doable would get them killed for sure. From the smoke rising from the casteless quarter, the only residents who might have been inclined to hide them were under attack. The workers would turn them over to appease the raiders. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Then let’s go. From the sound of it, Ashok still has their attention.”
Even with everything he’d learned about Protectors and bearers, it was a little astonishing that a lone man could fight a whole army for that much time, and for just a moment Keta felt a little flicker of hope, that maybe this was all going to work out after all. If t
he Forgotten truly wanted Ashok to be his general and lead his people to greatness, then the gods would surely provide a way.
Except the Voice had already spoken, and it seemed like the way provided ended in martyrdom and death. Maybe the Forgotten had only given Ashok the strength to last this long so that Keta had a chance to overcome his fear and fulfill his destiny? As usual the Voice’s prediction had been cryptic, and only available at the most damnably inconvenient of times, but for the things that had come to pass so far it had never been wrong.
But what if it wasn’t perfect after all? He’d written down several pronouncements that hadn’t happened yet, and he’d always just assumed those things would happen in the future. What if the Voice was wrong? What if Thera was right and the ones that had happened had been lucky guesses? If that was the case then all of his work—and all of Ratul’s work before him—meant nothing. He truly believed the Forgotten existed because he’d seen the miracles with his own eyes, but if the Forgotten was fallible, was he really a god at all?
They put their hoods up and kept their faces down low as they moved past the distracted workers. Some of them were crying over dead loved ones or wailing as their homes burned to the ground right in front of them. The raiders had truly made a mess of things, and it reminded Keta that his people weren’t the only ones suffering injustice in this world. The whole men of Jharlang made their living from the dirt, and being unlucky enough to live in a place a fugitive had hidden was their only crime. Such destruction was uncivilized. The raiders were violating the Law, and they’d surely be punished for it eventually, but no fines, or executions, or prison sentences administered afterwards would help Jharlang today.
There was a crowd of villagers at the end of the road, but they were all looking the other way, watching as events unfolded in the square. Only an hour ago many of them had been part of the angry mob that had formed on that very spot, but now they were only helpless observers. Well, not too helpless, because if they realized Keta and Thera were travelling companions of the man who’d brought all of this misery to their sleepy village they’d probably rip them limb from limb. As they got closer Keta caught glimpses of what had the crowd’s attention. There were bodies strewn all over the open area and a huge group of Somsak warriors were converging on the bridge to the casteless quarter.
“There’s Ashok,” Thera said. “I can’t believe he’s still standing.”
Keta had to shield his eyes. The angle was such that the reflection on the ice from the climbing sun on the ice was blinding. The bridge seemed to glow like molten gold in the morning light…
It couldn’t be.
He had to see. Heedless of danger, Keta began pushing his way through the workers. “Please, get out of my way.” He tried to force his way through, but everyone here was bigger and heavier than he was. The damnable bunch of pick swingers didn’t realize that they were preventing a Keeper from seeing a prophecy fulfilled. Growing frustrated, Keta shoved someone. “Move!” The worker turned and shoved him back. Keta balled up his fist and punched him in the stomach. The man went down, groaning. “I must see this!” Keta got to the front of the crowd.
Ashok held the bridge. In one hand was the furious Angruvadal, a swift black arc of destruction, and in his other hand was a Somsak shield, riddled with crossbow bolts. The bridge wasn’t very wide, so soldiers could only come at him two or three at a time, and Ashok kept forcing them back or over the side, sometimes in pieces. As Keta watched, the fallen Protector beat soldier after soldier, while behind him scores of casteless could be seen running through the smoke, all fleeing down a path to the north. The bridge seemed to glow with reflected light.
Or as the Voice had described its vision, the Forgotten’s chosen general stood on a bridge made of crystal, sacrificing himself to save the innocent.
Keta’s heart was suddenly so filled with hope that he thought it might burst.
The workers around him were quivering with fear, knowing that when the Somsak finished their work, all they could do was beg for mercy for unknowingly harboring the infamous criminal. They didn’t realize that something amazing was happening right before their very eyes.
“It’s true. Don’t you see, it’s all true!” Keta told the workers.
Only there had been more to the prophecy. It had said that general would have to fight a demon in the body of a man, and as soon as Keta had that thought, he knew exactly which one it had to be. A lone Somsak was slowly lumbering toward the bridge while the others hurried to get out of his way. His intricate armor was painted black and there were antlers on his helmet. There was something alien about his manner, an eerie impression that caused Keta’s skin to crawl. The Keeper knew somehow that this man’s very existence offended the gods. His sword was a long, fat chunk of steel, the sort of heavy, clumsy thing only used for executions, and from the way he was carrying himself toward the bridge, that’s exactly what he expected this fight to be.
As the Keeper of Names, Keta was compelled to testify to the world. He turned toward the crowd and shouted, “Behold! The Forgotten has called Ashok Vadal to be his general. He is the one who will free you from tyranny!” They were all looking at him now. He’d never preached to a big group of whole men before, but when Ramrowan had fallen from the sky he’d protected all men from the demons. Thera was behind the workers, waving her arms to get his attention. She was mouthing the words shut up repeatedly, but she couldn’t understand that Keta’s faith had just been reaffirmed and that a fervor had come upon him. It was his duty to spread the truth, no matter the costs.
“Listen to me, people of Jharlang! If you help protect his general, the Forgotten will save you from these raiders. The gods are on our side. Heed my words, the Law cannot protect you now, only Ashok can!”
He turned back to see what would happen next. Sadly, before he could watch the duel between Ashok and the demon in the form of a man, someone wacked him in the head with a rock. Dazed, Keta landed on the hard ice and tried to roll over. Between kicks to the ribs and blows to the face, Keta realized that maybe this testifying thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Chapter 48
The warriors had retreated, leaving Ashok momentarily alone, exhausted and shaking. So much blood had been spilled on the bridge that it had melted the ice beneath him into a pink slush. The ditch was filled with floating bodies. More had rolled down the bridge to collect at the base. He wasn’t sure why the Somsak were falling back, but he was thankful for the chance to catch his breath. At this point the Heart of the Mountain was doing everything it could to keep his body functioning despite the many wounds he’d received. Sensing danger, Ashok casually lifted the Somsak shield and let another crossbow bolt strike it. Thwack. There were so many bolts embedded in the wood that it was far heavier now than when he’d first taken it off a warrior foolish enough to stick it in his face.
He glanced across the waiting army. How many of them have I killed so far? There had been no need to turn in an after action report to the Order, so he’d not bothered to burn each wound he’d administered in his memory. They’d all blurred together into a never-ending stream of tattoo-faced maniacs, spitting up blood and organs. Ashok looked at the sun. How many hours had he been fighting? He wasn’t sure, but one way or the other, it would be over soon.
A Somsak in finely crafted heavy armor was approaching the bridge alone. That would be their champion. The rest had worn him down in body and spirit, and now the best among them would finish him off. When the warrior carelessly stepped on the bodies at the base of the bridge, one of them turned out to be unconscious rather than dead, and woke up screaming when his champion’s boot spread his wound. The champion paid him no heed and the helmet’s narrow eye slits remained focused on Ashok. The wounded soldier lingered for another few seconds before fading away. The champion continued his advance. He carried a huge steel shield and had a large sword resting over one shoulder. It was more of a sharpened steel bar than a proper sword. The warrior was either incredib
ly strong or incredibly foolish to choose such a cumbersome weapon.
The champion walked up the bridge until they were only a few strides apart.
“Remember me?”
It was a different voice, but he knew it was the same man. Ashok gave him a slow nod. “Nadan Somsak. I didn’t recognize you without the swagger.”
“I’ve come for my revenge and to claim my new sword, Protector. When I’m done here, none of you will go to waste. After I’m done raping your corpse, I’ll make a mask from your skin, feed your flesh to my hounds, and use your skull as a bowl. I wonder who it is you defend across this bridge? Know that no matter what, I will find them, and when I’m through with them they’ll beg for death and curse your name.”
The dry rasp of his words was somehow familiar. It reminded Ashok of the sea. “I took your tongue. How can you speak?”
“A wizard fixed me.”
He’d never had the gift of working magic, but even Ashok could sense the demonic corruption in the air, like a faint scent oozing through the cracks in the black armor. Nadan Somsak was now the foulest sort of lawbreaker. Ashok wasn’t a Protector of the Law anymore, but he’d destroy such a thing on principle. Normally, he would have struck down a hybrid abomination immediately, but he was glad for the chance to rest for a moment. The longer Nadan talked, the better the Heart could knit together his many wounds. “So you found a new tongue. Too bad it’s as foul and stupid as the first one.”
“You’re already beaten. You’re weaker than last time, and I’m far stronger.”
“Good. Our last duel consisted of me drawing and striking once.”
Ashok had never fought one before, nor had any of Angruvadal’s previous bearers, but Mindarin had taught him that hybrid abominations were always unpredictable and more powerful than either of the species they’d been spawned from. They were among the worst things that could happen when someone toyed with illegal magic, and their existence was the Inquisition’s single greatest fear.
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