Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles)

by Jim Melvin

  Blood on the Plains

  34

  ONCE AGAIN MALA had purposely exhausted the newborn soldiers; only this time he did so with speed instead of slow torture. In eight days the huge army marched from Nissaya to the Green Plains east of Jivita, almost as far a distance as Avici to Nissaya, which had taken three weeks.

  As before, the newborns were given almost nothing to eat or drink. The first several days of the march their stomachs were so full it hardly mattered. But eventually their thirst and hunger returned. Even their armor began to fit again, no longer pressing against their once-bloated bellies.

  At midnight, the gibbous moon hung lifelessly in a clear sky. Dracools reported that Jivita’s army was entrenched just two leagues from where the Chain Man stood. By morning, the bulk of Mala’s army would be in place. After that, the fun would begin. First there would be a parley, during which he would give the enemy one final chance to surrender. Of course, the proud Jivitans and pesky Tugars would refuse. To Mala it mattered little. Either way, he would kill most and enslave the few who remained.

  Since the beginning, Mala had known about the newborns’ ability to change. For more than twenty years, he and Invictus had conducted halfhearted training sessions on the fields east of Avici, but in truth it mostly was done just to keep the soldiers occupied until the real wars began. Their strength would not be in swordsmanship, discipline, or tactical excellence. Instead, it would be their bloodthirsty nature—born of their parasitic relationship with the Daasa—that would make them unstoppable.

  When Kojins, Warlish witches, Stone-Eaters, and other monsters were added to the mix, Mala’s army became the most powerful to ever walk the world. Though there had been far more casualties at Nissaya than Mala had expected, his host had remained invincible. He was so confident, he believed the battle with Jivita would be over before darkness of the following day.

  One of the two remaining Kojins stood by his side. Parājeti wasn’t as attractive as Harīti had been, but she would have to do now that his favorite had been butchered.

  Parājeti spoke to him through her mind.

  “No . . . I’m not worried about ambushes,” Mala responded. “After the parley, they will arrange in defensive formation and await our attack.”

  Parājeti squealed.

  “How do I know this?” Mala said. “Invictus told me, and he knows everything. The white horsemen believe themselves to be masters of the open field. They will prefer to pit their strength against ours.”

  The Kojin pounded her six fists together.

  “Of course we’ll win,” Mala shouted. “We outnumber our enemy almost three-to-one. And after we rout them, Triken will be ours.”

  Parājeti seemed to sigh.

  “No . . . No!” Mala said cheerfully. “The fun won’t be over. There’ll still be plenty to do. Hunt down the Jivitan civilians, march on Anna and destroy the Tent City, even sail across the ocean and enslave more Daasa. The world will be our playground. Isn’t it marvelous?”

  Mala spent the rest of the night walking among his host, greeting new arrivals and succoring the witches and Stone-Eaters, who seemed more worried about surprise attacks than did the Kojin. Eventually, he became angry and told anyone who brought up the subject to stop their grumbling. Still, as a precaution he sent out Mogol patrols. Several warriors returned saying they had ridden within bowshot of the enemy and had not been accosted. The Jivitans and Tugars seemed as content as Mala to await the morning, just as Invictus had predicted.

  When dawn finally arrived, the sun rose like a ball of angry fire. Though summer was weeks away, the bulk of this day would be remembered for generations as the hottest in the history of Triken. Not even Majjhe Ghamme (midsummer) in the heart of Tējo had produced such heat. Even before the fighting began, the battlefield would be an inferno. Mala adored it.

  “I do this for you, my liege,” Mala said.

  Then he gathered a small entourage and strode fearlessly toward the enemy.

  35

  THE TENSION OF waiting was more wearisome than the fear of what was to come. Torg walked among the Jivitans, attempting to keep spirits high. The Tugars, of course, needed little encouragement. Death in battle was to be expected, and in this case it might even be blessed, ending their guilt over abandoning Nissaya.

  Though its numbers had been diminished, Torg had never seen an army so well-outfitted and prepared. There was no arguing that Navarese was ingenious. It was he who had repelled any suggestions that they harass Mala with sallies during his approach.

  “If he panicked and caused the newborns to transform, there would be chaos on both sides, which favors superior numbers,” the general had argued. “Discipline is our greatest weapon—that and patience.”

  As dawn approached, Tugarian scouts reported that the bulk of Mala’s host had arrived and was settling in the plains just a few leagues east of the Jivitan army. The Chain Man was said to be rambling to and fro, but of Invictus there was no sign. If the sorcerer were present, he remained well-hidden. Torg wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or unease. Eventually, Invictus would appear, if only to claim Laylah. The possibility of losing her made him want to scream.

  Torg took Laylah aside one last time. He knew naught when he would be alone with her again—if ever. They stood in the darkness and stared adoringly at each other, their eyes glowing like tiny blue lamps.

  “On the eve of battle, my heart quails,” he said in a trembling voice.

  “I once heard you say, ‘We stand united in the face of our enemy. Let no heart quail.’ You and I will always stand united, even if we’re not together.”

  Torg took her in his arms and squeezed her lovely torso. Then he whispered in her ear. “If he takes you, do whatever it takes to stay alive. I will find you.”

  “Nothing he can do to me will change my love for you,” she said, burying her face in his chest. “I will always love you. For me, there is no other. You are my king.”

  As the darkness of night slowly dissolved, they stood silently in each other’s arms. Soon the nearby encampment came to life, the clanging of armor and snorting of horses blending with shouts and commands.

  “It’s time we join the others,” Laylah said.

  “Yes. But wait . . . there is one final thing before we go. I have a gift for you. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course . . .”

  “It will hurt, just a little.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Stand perfectly still.” The Torgon held Obhasa in his right hand and positioned the rounded head of the staff just to the left of the bridge of her nose. With the index finger and thumb of his left hand, he gently peeled her eyelid away from her eye. “Be still . . .” he purred.

  A threadlike tendril of blue-green energy sprang from the staff and seared the interior of the lid. Her eye watered and released a stream of tears, but she did not grimace.

  “Now the other,” he said.

  When he was finished, Laylah was puzzled. “What have you done?”

  “I have burned a reminder where Invictus will never see. Whenever you close your eyes, I will be there for you.”

  She smiled. “There is no pain. With you, there is never pain.”

  Afterward, they walked hand in hand back to the main camp. Already the horsemen and their squires were preparing for battle, donning the armor—both for rider and destrier—that was their only protection against the vicious newborns and monsters. Tugars walked about calmly, assisting wherever needed.

  Torg and Laylah approached General Navarese, who was shouting orders to anyone within hearing distance. When the general saw Torg, he charged over to him, his cheeks ablaze.

  “Where have you been?” he shouted. “There’s bad news already.”

  “I needed time alone with my lady,” Torg said. “As for bad news, what could be worse than Mala’s arrival?”

  “General Lucius and Bonny Calico arrived here just a few moments ago. The Daasa were not with them.”

  “I
t was to be expected,” Torg said. “In some ways I’m relieved.”

  “Relieved?”

  Queen Rajinii appeared beside them, resplendent in white armor, her long black hair spilling from beneath her helm. “We have been through this already, general. The Daasa have suffered enough on our account.”

  “Our account? What of their account? I thought they were on our side,” Navarese said, flailing his arms. Then he took a deep breath and lowered his voice, looking directly at Laylah for emphasis. “Without the Daasa, we have little to no chance of victory—which means that we will be unable to protect you. Will you not reconsider the opportunity to flee while you still can?”

  “I appreciate your concern, general,” Laylah said, “but my decision is final. I will remain and fight.”

  “As I said, I cannot guarantee your safety,” Navarese responded.

  “Nor mine . . . nor anyone’s,” Rajinii said. “Only Ekadeva has such power.”

  “I only meant . . .”

  “We know what you meant,” Torg said, “and it is appreciated. Besides, even without the Daasa, your strategy is sound. Do not forget there are almost nine thousand Tugars among us—and most of the Asēkhas. If we fall, it will not be before much of the enemy has been decimated.”

  Captain Julich shuffled forward, his helm held in the crook of the arm that had been broken in the battle against the druids and magically healed by the queen’s necromancers. “Mala approaches with an entourage. It appears he is prepared to parley.”

  Torg turned to Laylah. “My love, you must stay out of sight, for now.”

  “As you command, my king,” she said, attempting to sound playful. Then she sauntered away.

  Torg turned to Julich. “How large is Mala’s entourage?”

  “His boldness knows no bounds,” Julich said. “He comes with just one Kojin, one witch, and one Stone-Eater. It is as if he believes himself beyond the threat of ambush.”

  “My entourage also will be small,” the queen said. “Let’s get this over with. I am through with waiting.”

  Rajinii called for Arusha. Torg prepared to mount Izumo, but Bhojja appeared out of nowhere.

  “It’s been a while,” Torg said. “I feared you might not return.”

  Bhojja nickered and bowed, beckoning Torg to mount. Then Rajinii, Navarese, Torg, and Kusala rode to greet the Chain Man, eschewing banners and escorts. Still, they dared not approach too closely, halting five hundred paces from the ruined snow giant and his attendants.

  Mala was smiling wickedly, but Rajinii was the first to speak.

  “Without provocation you threaten my land with your army. I must assume that you mean us ill will. What say you?”

  When Mala pounded the tail of his trident onto the soft ground, a large patch of grass burst into yellow flame. “You know why I’m here. I come as conqueror, not beggar. But do not let it be said that I am without mercy. The king of Nissaya would not accept my terms of surrender, and he is no longer. Will the queen of Jivita be so foolish?”

  “I am a grown woman. Why should I waste my time listening to your boyish nonsense?”

  Mala’s face turned bright red. Venom dripped from his nostrils and fangs. The Kojin emitted a screech that could be heard for a league, and the Warlish witch transformed from beautiful to hideous in a smoke-filled explosion. Only the Stone-Eater remained composed. Torg feared they might attack immediately, and he positioned himself in front of the others, but the Chain Man somehow managed to regain his composure.

  “Very well . . . very well,” he growled. “You believe yourself to be bold. So be it. Before this day is through, you will regret not begging for mercy.”

  Mala started to turn away, but Torg stopped him short.

  “There is the matter of Utu,” Torg said.

  The Chain Man’s eyes glistened. “What did you say, Desert King?”

  “Before your own eyes, your brother was murdered by your master.”

  Mala snarled. “He was not my brother!”

  “Aaaaaah, but he was. And he gave his life in an attempt to save you. Does that hold no meaning?”

  Without waiting to hear Mala’s response, Torg gestured to his companions, and they reined about and rode off in a rush.

  36

  JUST BEFORE DAWN, Invictus finally chose to mount Ulaara the Black, and the dark-hearted pair finally took to the skies above the Jivitan army, flying so high that they were invisible even to the eyes of the Tugars. The air was so thin the great dragon struggled to stay aloft, but the lack of oxygen and the cold did not affect Invictus. Ulaara was barely able to perceive what was happening on the ground, but the sorcerer seemed able to see well enough to satisfy his purposes. The Sun God’s decision-making continued to puzzle Ulaara.

  “When your army attacks, should we not join them?” Ulaara shouted into the rushing wind. “I am capable of killing thousands by myself.”

  “I know how I want things to be done and when I want them done. Do you doubt it?”

  Ulaara felt the sorcerer’s thighs squeeze ever so slightly on the base of his neck. A burning sensation arose.

  “No, my liege. Of course not. You are Akanittha, great among the great. It is just that I wish to lend my assistance wherever and whenever needed.”

  Invictus chuckled. “I’m sure you do. Even Bhayatupa became compliant in the end. And he was stronger than you. But neither of you are my match, so I would warn you to be cautious.”

  “Yes, my liege.”

  “I’m joking,” Invictus shouted. “Actually I have grown to enjoy your company. I believe that you and I are alike. So trust me. For now I just want to watch. I have always liked to watch.”

  With relief in his voice, Ulaara said, “Your army is much larger than theirs, my liege. Perhaps neither of us will be needed.”

  “If that is so, then I will be disappointed . . . somewhat. Still, there is a woman among them who must not be harmed or permitted to escape. I can sense her down there. If she flees, you and I will follow.”

  “Ahhhh, I see . . . a love interest.”

  “You could say that. She is my sister.”

  “A prisoner of the enemy, then?”

  “You could say that too.”

  Then the sorcerer seemed to lose interest in further conversation. Instead, he resumed his boyish whistling, though Ulaara dared not complain. In the thin air of the upper heights, it seemed to foreshadow impending doom.

  Ulaara shuddered. Just what had he gotten himself into? And would he be able to escape it?

  FROM HIS RESTING place in the hollow, Bhayatupa commanded a wide view of the sky. Of all living creatures on Triken, his eyesight was unsurpassed. When dawn arrived he was able to see far.

  Farther even than Ulaara or Invictus.

  At first he wasn’t sure. Bhayatupa stood and straightened his neck until his head rose above the canopy. From there he stared at the speck that circled the sky east of Jivita. It had to be a great dragon, of that he was certain.

  Was it Ulaara? His son’s murderer?

  The only other great dragon known to be active was a small female once in the employ of the sorcerer. But after Bhayatupa’s awakening, she had fled and hidden. Besides, she was not capable of flying as high as the one he now watched. It had to be Ulaara.

  It took all of Bhayatupa’s will not to leap into the air, rise to the heights, and attack. One thing held him back: the possibility that Invictus had joined forces with his ancient enemy. If that were the case, an unplanned assault would be doomed to failure.

  “I can wait,” Bhayatupa whispered. “But mark my words, Ulaara, you and I will meet again.”

  A groaning sound startled Bhayatupa, and he lowered himself onto his haunches. It appeared the Death-Knower was awakening from his long sleep. When Rathburt realized that Bhayatupa was just a stone’s throw away, his eyes sprang open, but he did not appear afraid.

  “I can’t remember the last time I felt this good,” the wizard said. When he stood and stretched, even his s
lump was less pronounced. “That smoke is fantastic. Can I have some more?”

  Bhayatupa chuckled. He too felt good, in so many ways. And by the time this day was done, he planned to feel even better.

  “Be careful, little one,” Bhayatupa said. “A little goes a long way.”

  Rathburt pounded his narrow chest with his fists. “Even without any more, I feel like I could take on the world. Where’s Vedana? Show yourself, demon. I’m in the mood to give you a hard spanking.”

  Now Bhayatupa was laughing, causing the surrounding trees to shake and quiver. “If anyone has ever deserved a spanking, it is Vedana. I also wish she would appear, just so I could watch.”

  Rathburt strode forward, reached up on his tiptoes, and patted the dragon on the snout. “You’re not such an evil creature, after all. Why does everyone always talk so bad about you?”

  Bhayatupa snorted. “I have changed, Death-Knower. But then, so have you. Let’s both assume it’s for the better.”

  MALA ALSO COULD see the speck circling in the sky, but he assumed it was Invictus aboard Bhayatupa. The Chain Man experienced another stab of jealousy, wishing that Bhayatupa would go away for good. Now that he wielded the trident and ring, he believed he had the power to make his wish come true. After he won the battle against the Jivitans, Mala planned on challenging the dragon to a duel, hoping that his king wouldn’t stop the two of them from fighting. It would be sweet revenge to slay the giant creature that had nearly destroyed him in the mountains west of Kamupadana.

  Mala ground his teeth. The world was too full of distractions, hindering his ability to concentrate on what was most important. When the damnable wizard had reminded him of Utu, it had been beyond annoying. Mala believed that the death of the snow giant had put an end to the peculiarity he had felt in his presence. But simply hearing Utu’s name had disoriented Mala again—and losing focus was the last thing he needed. Mala was certain of victory, but he knew it would not come without cost. Thousands would die on both sides before the Jivitans and Tugars were vanquished.