Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles)

by Jim Melvin

  Instantly, she fell into a deep sleep. But it was not a restful one. Nightmares slithered up and took control of her mind, causing her to moan and perspire. In one, Invictus was pointing at her stomach and laughing. When she looked down she saw she was naked—and very pregnant. Her rounded abdomen writhed, as if the baby were attempting to tear itself from her belly. She ran from her brother through a haze of despair and eventually found herself on a grassy plain that had been set afire, the air choked with smoke. A great battle had taken place, and she now stood in its aftermath. There was no sign of life and no lack of corpses, which were strewn in all directions as far as she could see. The landscape was burned and scarred, but a single stunted tree had escaped the ravages of the destruction. The sight of it, so dreadfully alone, made Laylah want to scream.

  WHEN TORG AGAIN looked upon her, he feared his heart might burst. Laylah lay fully clothed on her bed, and though she was disheveled by her standards, Torg still found her extraordinarily beautiful. Just a few moments before, he had climbed off Sakuna’s feathered back and clambered through Laylah’s window. Now he stood motionless above her.

  Without warning, Laylah cried out and sat up, her eyes wide with terror. But her fright had come from a source other than his presence.

  Torg couldn’t bear to see her in such distress, and he sat down and took her in his arms. At first she resisted, pushing at him as if he were a dreaded enemy. But when she came to full consciousness, her body relaxed, and she looked at his face with an expression of joy.

  “Beloved . . . am I dreaming still?”

  “My love . . . this is no dream.”

  “You have returned to me, as you promised.”

  “In the end, I might fail you. But I will never break a promise. Of that you can be certain.”

  “Nissaya?” she said.

  “Not now . . . not now,” Torg whispered. “I wish to enjoy you with an untroubled mind, if only for a short time.”

  They held each other and kissed. Then they both slept, their bodies entwined.

  Shortly after noon, a pounding on Laylah’s door awakened them. Bleary-eyed, Torg rose and opened it. To his delight, Elu and Ugga were standing in the entryway, the Svakaran smaller than one of the crossbreed’s legs. Both wore long silken tunics as white as Jord’s hair. Their silly expressions made Torg laugh. Despite everything both of them had been through, they still had the ability to spread cheer.

  “Great one!” Elu said. “You and the pretty lady must awaken and join us for supper. General Navarese has called a Privy Council for late afternoon.”

  “The little guy is right,” Ugga said. “Our tummies are all grumbly. We can’t go to any meetings unless we eat first.”

  By then Laylah was standing at Torg’s side. She looked down at Elu and then up at Ugga. “Give us a little while to make ourselves presentable, and we will join you,” she said.

  “Yes!” they said in unison and then trotted down the hall.

  Henchmen rushed into the room with pots of boiling water to refresh Laylah’s bath. A lone Tugar also entered, bearing a crisp set of Tugarian outfits.

  Torg clasped forearms with the female warrior. “VātamaЇ ala āgacchati (The storm comes),” he whispered in her ear. “Inform the others.”

  Afterward, Torg and Laylah were again alone, and they kissed for as long as they dared before bathing separately to avoid any more contact. Though they desperately desired to be together, now was not the time. War was at hand. They could no longer afford such luxuries.

  “Except for tonight,” Torg thought. “Maybe just once more . . . tonight.”

  They found Ugga and Elu in a small chamber not far from the banquet hall. Somehow the crossbreed and Svakaran had managed to refrain from eating, though both their faces were weary from the effort. Ugga looked especially distraught, his hair and beard again turning gray, and a snarl of deep wrinkles, heretofore absent, sprang from the corner of each eye. If Jord left the crossbreed for even a short while, he seemed to age rapidly.

  The foursome of friends ate a hot stew made with goat milk, cabbage, and flakes of freshwater eel, the oily flesh enhancing a fragrant broth that was thickened with butter and bread crumbs. Pale wine spiced with cinnamon was served with the stew. For dessert, they ate balls of fried dough dusted with sugar and drank strong black tea. Torg, who had eaten relatively little since departing Jivita to go to Nissaya, consumed even more than Ugga, amazing the servitors who continued to bring extra helpings to the table.

  Afterward, Torg belched and then blushed. “Sorry . . . I guess I was hungry.”

  Laylah laughed. “I should say so. Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life cooking?” Then her expression grew serious. “Of course, anything would be better than the alternative.”

  Before Torg could respond, a messenger adorned in a plush green robe that was cast over elaborate armor entered the chamber. “Queen Rajinii and General Navarese request the honor of your presence in the throne room,” he said to all four of them.

  “We will arrive shortly,” Torg said. After the man left, Torg turned to the Svakaran. “Speaking of Rajinii, why aren’t you with her? Are you on holiday?”

  “Elu is no longer Sir Elu,” he said in a low voice. “The queen told him just a little while ago that she no longer is in need of his service. He is just Elu now.” Then his face brightened, and his voice became joyful. “He is just Elu!”

  Torg took it as a good sign. Releasing the Svakaran from her service indicated to Torg that the queen was in a strong mental state. Torg patted Elu on the back. “It’s just as well. And it doesn’t mean you’ll be doing any less fighting than before. In fact, you might end up doing more, now that you don’t have to guard the queen wherever she goes.”

  “That’s the same thing I said to the little guy,” Ugga crooned. “I told him he could ride with me, and together we’d make Master Rad-burt and Bard proud.”

  As the foursome approached the main set of doors leading to the throne room, Torg heard a familiar voice calling to them from behind. They turned in unison to see Lucius coming toward them. The firstborn looked dashing in a crimson doublet and bejeweled belt, though Torg was quick to notice that he no longer bore the Mogol war club that had been destroyed in the conflagration that consumed Urbana.

  Elu ran over and hugged one of Lucius’ muscular legs, which were covered with tight-fitting green hose. “Where’s Miss Bon-nee?” Ugga said.

  “She stayed with the Daasa near the forest,” Lucius said. “We’re still not sure what would happen if both of us left them for a long period of time, so I came alone. Navarese seemed to think it important for me to be here.”

  “It’s good that you are,” Torg said. “I have much to say that you should know.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Lucius said. “Seriously. For Laylah’s sake . . . for all our sakes.”

  Torg nodded graciously.

  Then Laylah added, “Thank you, Lucius. That’s wonderful of you to say.”

  “It’s the simple truth,” the firstborn responded. “Without Torg we would stand little chance against Mala, even with the Tugars and Daasa on our side.”

  “I am honored by your words,” Torg said. “But there are many greats among us, including Laylah and yourself. Even Ugga and Elu are great, in their fashion.”

  “We are?” the crossbreed and Svakaran said in surprised unison.

  “Indeed.”

  The first time Torg had entered the throne room with Laylah, the gathering had been small. This time, in addition to the queen and her counselors, at least three score Jivitan horsemen were crammed into the chamber. Six Tugars were also present, led by Ukkutīka. As Torg strode forward, the chatter and murmuring came to an abrupt halt. Clearly what he had to say was of the utmost interest.

  Rajinii stood and pounded the tail of her staff on the floor at her feet. “Given the direness of the times, we will dispense with the usual formalities. By my order, this council will hereby commence. Lord Torgon, will yo
u come forward and give us your report, before General Navarese completely loses his mind?”

  This was met with heavy laughter, even from the general. It helped to lighten the mood, but Torg knew that what he had to say would make their hearts heavy again. He was especially concerned with Laylah’s reaction; among all of them, she had the most to lose.

  Torg stood at the base of the stairs leading to the queen’s throne. The room hushed.

  “First I will say what you least want to hear: the fortress has fallen, and Mala’s army remains intact. My guess is, the Chain Man will begin his march to Jivita on the morrow, and this time, I do not believe he will move as slowly as before. He could be on your doorstep in a week.”

  Though Torg’s quick return to Jivita made it easy to surmise that Nissaya had been defeated, the news spoken, so directly, sent the room into chaos.

  Rajinii had to shout to silence them. “Quiet! Time is short. We must hear all that Lord Torgon has to say so that General Navarese can commence preparations.” Then she turned to Torg, her expression pained. “The casualties?”

  Torg’s eyes filled with tears. But now was not the moment to succumb to sorrow. “Of all those defending or inhabiting the fortress, I believe that fewer than fifteen thousand escaped, with almost half of that number composed of Tugars.”

  There were gasps and murmurs, and more than one member of the gathering began to weep.

  “And Mala? You said his army is intact,” Navarese said. “But surely he incurred casualties.”

  “Many fell, but not enough,” Torg said. Then he looked at Laylah and repeated in a whisper: “Not enough.”

  Then Torg described the massacre in as few words as possible, including the deaths of Utu and Henepola. When he told of the transformation of the newborns and how many of them he believed had survived the battle, the room became as quiet as a tomb.

  Finally, Lucius came forward. “All of you know what makes the Daasa special. And I’m sure most of you have heard what makes Bonny and me special. But Torg tells us that we’ll be facing tens of thousands of transformed newborns? Even with the Daasa at our side, we stand no chance against such ferocity.” Then Lucius went to Navarese. “Rather than prepare for battle, we should begin plans for evacuation.”

  “That is not an option,” the Jivitan general said.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Lucius said. “Could your army defeat that many Daasa? And that doesn’t even include thirty thousand more monsters. There are Kojins, Stone-Eaters, witches, and trolls among them. They alone might be too much for us.”

  “We will not flee,” Navarese countered. “At least, not my army. I can’t speak for yours.”

  Torg stepped between them. “The news I bring is dire, of that there is no doubt. Evacuation is an option, at least for some of you. All citizens of Jivita, except for those that assist the military, should leave for the havens by tomorrow morning.”

  “But the Daasa?” Lucius said. “They should remain for the slaughter?”

  Torg sighed. “We have asked too much of them already. I doubt anyone in this room would deny that the Daasa have earned their freedom. As far as I’m concerned, you and Bonny should lead them into Mahaggata and disappear.”

  “If they do, our strength will be severely weakened,” Navarese said.

  “That is true,” Rajinii called from above. “But Lord Torgon is correct. The Daasa have done enough. Their time is past.”

  Now it was Navarese’s turn to sigh. “I cannot deny it. Lucius, I apologize if I have offended you.”

  “I must think on this,” the firstborn said, his tone now lacking anger. “But even if the Daasa are given their freedom, I will not join them in flight, as Torg suggests. Mala is as much my enemy as yours. I, at least, will fight alongside you.”

  Then the firstborn left the room.

  Afterward Queen Rajinii came down from the dais and stood next to Torg. “As Lord Torgon suggests, our citizenry should no longer be given the choice to remain in Jivita. A complete evacuation will begin tomorrow, though how much more protection the havens will offer remains to be seen.

  “As for our army, General Navarese will prepare it for battle. Though it appears we are outmatched, we will meet Mala in the Green Plains, nonetheless. Torg and the Tugars will be with us. Will it be enough? Only Ekadeva has that answer. But this I know: the One God’s heaven will open its gates to all brave enough to fight in this final battle. And I say this not out of despair, but out of faith.”

  Then the queen went to Laylah and looked at her with sad eyes. “What of you?”

  “Your highness?” Laylah said.

  “Though death awaits us, we do not fear it. It’s a small price to pay for an invitation to paradise,” Rajinii said. “But what awaits you could be a fate worse than death. Will you not flee?”

  “Where would I go?” Laylah said, looking only at Torg. “Across the sea? To the end of the world? There is nowhere my brother would not find me. No . . . I will not flee. But if all of you die, I wish also to die.”

  Torg returned her gaze . . . and nodded.

  22

  AFTER DEPOSITING The Torgon on Laylah’s windowsill, the Faerie had left Jivita. In her incarnation as the eagle Sakuna, she had soared northward, flying at speeds only the great dragons could rival. Quickly she was over Dhutanga, which from the upper heights resembled a dark-green carpet with a blue spine.

  For the most part, the Faerie trusted Peta—and even loved her. But there was one part of “the plan” that the Faerie needed to see with her own eyes—for The Torgon’s sake, not her own. The wizard deserved this confirmation, even if it was too soon for the full extent of its ramifications to be revealed to him.

  Eventually, she left Dhutanga behind and flew above the northwestern mountains of the Y-shaped Mahaggatan range. To her left was the Akasa Ocean and to her right the frozen wastes of Nirodha. Beneath her were toothy mountains, their snow-covered peaks as sharp as fangs. The unseasonable heat had not reached this far; even Invictus’s magic had limits, for now. But if the sorcerer was not stopped, his power would grow beyond the control of any and all. The Faerie’s unholy union with the despicable demon was designed to ensure that the Sun God was destroyed. It was ironic that she and her fellow Vijjaadharaa were forced to bargain with the very creature that had spawned Invictus. But Peta frequently claimed there was no other option, and the Faerie could find no reasons to disbelieve the ghost-child.

  As Sakuna approached Catu, the northernmost mountain on all of Triken, the Faerie felt sadness engulf her physical incarnation that dwarfed even her reaction to the death of Bard. The handsome trapper had lived many times longer than his karma had decreed, and his death had not come without benefit. But the ancient mountain eagles that Bhayatupa had slain within a few leagues of where she now flew had died in vain. Their pride had prevented them from fleeing when the great dragon approached, and it had cost all of them their lives, with no gain whatsoever. At least it seemed so to the Faerie. Perhaps someone wiser could say differently.

  Sakuna landed on a peak south of Catu and transformed to Jord. Now in the form of a white-haired woman, she roamed naked in the frozen heights, looking for any sign of the battle that had occurred here less than a month ago. Eventually, she found a long feather—brown with pale bands—that had been torn from the tail of one of her wondrous friends. And now that friend was no longer.

  “Physical incarnation comes with such suffering,” Jord thought. “It is amazing that the living can tolerate being reborn . . . eon upon eon.”

  Jord transformed back to Sakuna and flew to the peak of Catu, landing at the maw of a hidden cave. Changing into Jord again, she crawled deep inside on hands and knees. Beneath a shaving of granite she uncovered a mysterious amulet: circular, smooth, and golden with no visible embellishments. Jord touched the amulet with her fingertip, feeling neither heat nor cold. In its own way this talisman was every bit as powerful as the Silver Sword or the ring of Maōi. But it had only one use—the pre
servation of flesh.

  For now she was satisfied, and she left the amulet in its frozen resting place. Then she returned to the skies. Before all was said and done, the Faerie would come back to this place—though not alone.

  23

  FOR BONNY IT had been an excruciating day. Lucius had left their pavilion before dawn, setting off on a lean stallion built for speed, and had promised her that no matter how long the Privy Council dragged on, he would return before midnight. She had bid him goodbye with a kiss and a smile. But after he had departed, she had felt the stress start to build up inside her.

  Though they had only been together for a few short weeks, she already knew enough about him to predict his reactions in advance. And in this case it scared her because she believed he might make a choice for her that she would be forced to refuse. She was certain that Lucius would ask her to lead the Daasa away from the Green Plains, probably suggesting that she take them to Mahaggata. He would do this because he loved her and feared for her. If it had meant spending more time with him, she might have agreed to it. But she knew in her heart that Lucius would not come. He would argue this was his war, not hers or the Daasa’s.

  To Bonny, this was unacceptable. If Lucius didn’t flee, then neither would she—regardless of what the Daasa chose to do.

  A dreadful sadness took root in her heart. She had grown to treasure every moment she spent with Lucius—and did not want it to end. But what hope did she have anymore? She had heard enough rumors to know that Mala would arrive in just a few days. She doubted that more than a handful of them would survive the upcoming battle, and those few would become the Chain Man’s slaves, which would be even worse than dying.