by Astrid Amara
TERASHU FIELD WAS A LARGE BASIN, FLAT AND UNREMARKABLE save for the way the dry grassland sloped upwards to meet the edge of the Ashari Forest. The forest formed the western boundary of the field and curved north, following the path of the river. The northern portion of the forest remained blackened with soot, a reminder of the great fire that Jandu and Keshan had started years ago for Mendraz. But even in three short years, vegetation sprang forth from the ashes, and saplings burst from the forest floor, lining the edge of the battlefield.
The Uru camp claimed the northern boundary of the field. The Parans and their allies staked the south. Far to the east, the fallow grazing lands stretched out in a seemingly endless view of wildflowers and grasses. Yudar ordered a trench dug across the eastern edge of the battleground to protect the grasslands from the spread of fires any shartas might cause.
The battlefield itself burst with delphiniums, blue poppies, and dozens of other wildflowers. The blooms waved enthusiastically to the camping armies, their colors as varied as the many brilliant standards and banners of the gathered Triya noblemen.
But the machinations of men quickly thwarted the rejuvenation. Within two days the flowers were ripped from the earth, and all traces of foliage vanished, leaving a dusty bowl as teams of oxen flattened the ground and prepared the field for chariots.
In the Paran camp dirt roads were leveled, dividing the sections and creating an instant city, almost one hundred thousand people and animals gathered together to watch, participate in, and facilitate this war. Infantry, cavalry and charioted officers were housed closest to the battleground, while the edge of the camp housed the numerous kitchens, medical tents, bathhouses, storage carts, animal stables, blacksmiths, carpenters, servants, and others who now tied their fortunes to the Paran princes.
Yudar’s tent marked the center of the camp, and was a large, circular structure of white wool suspended on nine poles, with a separate smaller tent attached for Yudar’s private chamber. Inside, furniture from neighboring allied states and thick carpets damped down the dust. The room became the central planning office for the war. It was comfortable, despite the slightly off-putting, wet wool smell.
Jandu chose a tent near the charioteers and archers. There were five units in the Paran army. Jandu assumed he would lead one of them, and was surprised instead by Yudar’s decision to appoint him general.
“You know more shartas than any man on this battlefield,” Yudar said proudly. “And you have proven yourself numerous times against insurmountable odds. I want you to lead our army to victory.”
Jandu’s emotions had flickered at Yudar’s compliments, a moment of love and gratitude breaking through the wall that Yudar’s betrayals had forged.
He worried that Baram would be insulted, having been passed as second eldest for the position. But Baram had merely hugged Jandu fiercely and told him it was the wisest decision.
In his new position, Jandu was kept busy and for days he had seen little of Keshan. The Jegora part of camp was behind the latrines, and they had little access to the rest of the makeshift city. Every attempt Jandu made to visit Keshan was quickly thwarted by a not-so-subtle request from Yudar, for Jandu to oversee the archers in their practice, the distribution of provisions, or the repair of chariots. All it would take was Jandu to look to the far southeast corner of camp, and Yudar would immediately grab his arm and throw Jandu at some problem.
On the eve of battle, both Paran and Uru armies met in the middle of the field to take the oath of honorable combat.
The beat of a thousand drums vibrated the blood in Jandu’s veins. Enormous energy radiated from Terashu field in sound waves. One hundred thousand men, bound by promises and fealty, gathered to swear themselves to the laws of war. Jandu scanned the crowd for a sign of Keshan, but it was impossible to spot him. There were over fifty thousand soldiers fighting for the Parans and past them, in the sea of faces, Jandu could not make out any individual.
Jandu stood beside Baram on a raised dais and watched Yudar and Darvad ceremonially greet the priest Onshu, who would officiate the battle.
Onshu made the sign of peace to both Darvad and Yudar. The priest’s purple robes fluttered in the light wind. His hair was thick with red sandalwood paste.
Onshu sang a brief prayer. Yudar and Darvad closed their eyes and brought their hands together to pray. Yudar was adorned in his golden armor, his forehead smeared with holy paste, his hair oiled and slicked back under his golden helmet. Jandu stared at him, a now-familiar sensation of disgust and pride washing through him.
Jandu felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Baram, smiling down at him with tears in his eyes.
“I have been waiting for this moment since the first time that bastard Firdaus rolled the dice,” Baram whispered hotly. Jandu nodded in response.
Onshu finished his prayer and unrolled a large scroll. He began to recite the traditional Triya rules of war.
“Two warriors may engage in personal combat only if they carry the same weapons and they are on the same mount,” Onshu said. His words echoed back to the edges of the crowd in repeated whispers.
“No warrior may kill or injure any warrior who is unarmed, unconscious, or whose back is turned away, as this is dishonorable in the eyes of God. None may raise a weapon against a warrior of higher caste than himself lest he offend God.”
Jandu’s eyes narrowed. The professional armies of each of their allied states were Triya, but the rest of the soldiers, almost half of them, were Suya and Chaya caste. That meant they could only fight their own equivalents on the battlefield. But they would be sitting ducks for the Triya in chariots and on horseback.
Jandu shook his head. “They’ll be slaughtered.”
Baram merely shrugged. “What did you expect? It’s the traditional rules of war.”
“Yudar should change them,” Jandu stated.
“Yudar isn’t going to change anything set down in the Book of Taivo,” Baram told Jandu. “Besides, look at Darvad. He’s the one who is supposed to be the champion of the lower castes, and he isn’t challenging the rules either.”
It was true. Darvad simply nodded with the ruling. Jandu noted, however, that Tarek Amia, who stood by Darvad’s side, looked ready to kill Darvad. Tarek had obviously expected Darvad to treat his Suya and Chaya warriors more humanely.
“No battle may continue beyond the light of day for this is the time the Lord has allotted for war. No harm may be done to a man, ally or enemy, who comes to pay respect at the funeral pyres of the fallen,” Onshu intoned. “Any man who uses a sharta to endanger the lives of civilians outside this battlefield will be put to death.”
“But at least we’re allowed to use them,” Baram said. He slapped Jandu on the shoulder. “You know more than anyone. It will definitely be to our advantage.”
“Mazar knows more than me, I assure you,” Jandu whispered, looking across the dais at his weapons master.
Jandu had spoken to Mazar several times in the weeks leading up to the battle, hoping to convince his old master to fight with the Paran forces. But while Mazar did not hesitate to express his remorse at having to fight against Jandu, he refused to break the holy oath he had made to King Darvad.
At first, Jandu was hurt, but his resolve had hardened over the weeks. Keshan was right. Holy oaths and vows that made no sense, when they justified actions that went against a person’s own moral standings, were pointless and dangerous. If there was one aspect of Triya culture that Jandu could change, it would be this slavish adherence to illogical oaths.
Onshu finished his litany of rules and then led Yudar and Darvad in a second prayer. As the priest blessed the two sides of the war, and prayed to God for justice, both armies joined in the prayer and the ground itself seemed to shudder with the thunderous timbre of so many voices. The drummers resumed their beat, and then the horns and conches joined in, a cacophony of battle cries and prayers and music and cheers and insults, and Jandu could feel their words in his scalp, tingling
across his flesh. He spoke in unison with the soldiers, his body bombinating with excitement and adrenalin, to be here, at this moment, in history, with all these men.
Jandu’s prayers grew more fervent. He added a prayer to Mendraz, king of the Yashvas, hoping the demon would favor Jandu’s side of the war. Jandu knelt and supplicated himself and the men around him followed. Like a great wave, the entire Paran army prostrated itself on the battlefield, laying their heads to the ground and praying as if they all knew that this ground would also cradle their heads in death.
Onshu lit incense and poured butter onto the ground, and the ceremony concluded. Darvad and his advisors left the ceremony in one direction. Yudar touched Mazar’s feet in respect, and then led his own men to the Paran camp without a glance back.
◆◆◆
That evening, in darkness, Jandu bathed and then wound his way toward the latrines. He traveled an already well-trod dirt path behind the outhouses. He carried a butter lamp, as this part of the camp did not have lamps strung along the roads.
The Jegora camp consisted of ramshackle tents made of cotton fabric. Most of the men and women slept out in the open, on thin bed rolls gathered around open fires. As Jandu searched the faces in shadow for Keshan, most of the Jegora drew back, frightened of Jandu’s attention. A few who wore his blue ribbon offered him tentative, shy smiles.
“Keshan?” Jandu cried, looking upon the bleak faces around him. What used to disgust him now simply filled him with sympathy. He watched a woman wash her pan out with the one gourd of water she had, her hands clawed with age. She was beautiful once, Jandu realized, staring into her eyes. She had lovely hair, but her face was wearied with age and the elements, and she shied from Jandu’s glance quickly.
“Keshan!” Jandu called again.
“I’m here.” Keshan rushed to his side, looking out of breath. His hands were covered in soil and his black tunic was dirty, but his face lit with a smile when he saw Jandu.
Jandu raised an eyebrow. “Where have you been?”
“Digging.” Keshan patted dirt from his tunic. “One of the oxen died. I’m helping bury him.”
“I have something more important for you to do.” Jandu took Keshan by the elbow and led him past the latrines, toward the soldier’s section of the camp. Although many people were out, it was dark enough between the lamps that few noticed Keshan’s clothing or brands.
When they reached an open area of the charioteer’s section of camp, Jandu turned to Keshan.
“You still want to be my charioteer?” Jandu asked nervously.
Keshan smiled brightly. “Of course I will be.”
“Can you summon Mendraz’s chariot now? I’d like to have it ready for tomorrow,” Jandu said.
“I don’t know if it will work,” Keshan said. “Since Firdaus’ curse, my shartas haven’t been what they used to be.”
“That’s why I think you should try it now, when it’s quiet.”
Keshan nodded. He knelt to the ground and closed his eyes. His lips moved slightly as he whispered the prayer Mendraz had taught him all those years ago in this very forest. Jandu watched anxiously. Keshan finished and nothing happened. There was a flicker of light, but that was all. Keshan tried again. Sweat beaded his forehead.
Mendraz’s celestial chariot finally appeared soundlessly. Only the thump of one of the long reins against the ground made any noise. Jandu and Keshan both stared, wondering at Mendraz’s magnificent vehicle.
The wood was lacquered yellow and red, and then gilded in sweeping patterns of vines, the gold trailing up the sides of the car and forming a golden banister all around the edge of the car. In the center of the chariot, a thick mast provided balance, and Tiwari’s own peacock standard flapped above the yellow silk canopy stretched atop the vehicle. Even the seats were magnificent, crafted from silk and stuffed with feathers. It was the vehicle of the gods. And now it would be Jandu’s in battle.
“I had forgotten how beautiful it was.” Keshan admired the chariot, a soft smile on his face. Jandu stepped forward and ran his hand along the warm gold of the chariot lip.
“With you and this chariot and Zandi, we will be invincible.” He turned and smiled at Keshan who grinned back.
“Not without horses we won’t,” Keshan replied. “Nadaru has promised you horses, yes? Let me pick out the best for you.”
“All right.” Jandu nodded. “I have to talk to Yudar, but I’ll meet you back here within the hour.”
“I’ll see you then,” Keshan agreed. He looked radiant with his success at summoning the chariot and when he walked away he moved with the graceful pride that had seemed lost since his branding.
Jandu threaded his way through the evening crowds of soldiers and servants. The night before the battle, the entire camp burst with revelry. Yudar distributed wine to keep morale high. Women visited their husbands and sons, and Jandu felt an overpowering affection for all these people, gathered so bravely at the edge of an abyss, risking their lives for the fate of his family. As he passed through the crowds, people bowed to him or touched his feet. Here, he was a prince again, a royal Triya, fourth in line for Marhavad’s throne, and the years of servitude and starvation on the mountain seemed like they happened to another person, in another life.
Jandu reached up and touched the break in his nose. He would not let himself forget anything of the last three years. He needed that anger to fuel his strength tomorrow, on the battlefield.
Yudar’s tent was guarded by soldiers loyal to the Parans for many years. Jandu couldn’t remember the names of the two men who stood on duty now, but their faces were very familiar. They had protected Yudar since he had been a teenager growing up in the palace. Jandu remembered them crying when the Parans left for the forest. And now here they were once more, straight and proud at Yudar’s door, and Jandu couldn’t help but reach out and touch them both affectionately on the shoulders. The men looked shocked, that a Triya would do such a thing, but then they smiled and stood straighter.
“My Prince,” one of the guards said. “Shall I announce you?”
“No. I’ll just join the crowd.” Jandu made his way into Yudar’s tent.
It was filled beyond capacity. The space that had seemed too large to Jandu when they first erected the tent now looked laughably small, filled with so many commanders, advisors, sages and priests. Yudar sat in one of the gilded chairs they had brought from Afadi, and men gathered around him, talking at once and listening as Yudar issued order after order. Jandu crossed his arms over his breastplate and stood against the wall of the tent, watching his brother. Yudar responded to each person individually, as if they were the only person in attendance. Yudar made eye contact, nodded somberly, listened to sides and then made a decision without hesitation. His self-assurance and born leadership was what had brought all these people to their side in the first place. Once again, Jandu struggled with combating emotions of pride and fury.
“Prince Jandu?”
Jandu turned, and saw one of Yudar’s guards eyeing him nervously. Jandu walked over to the man and leaned his head down, to hear him better in the throb of voices in the room.
“The untouchable is outside, wanting to speak with you.”
Jandu’s hands involuntarily clenched into fists. He excused himself and followed the guards outside. It was infuriating that Keshan had to be addressed as such. Everyone here knew who Keshan was. They knew he was a lord in his own state, a hero they all would have bragged about meeting only a few months ago. Now he was not even allowed the dignity of his own name.
At the tent entrance, Keshan stood, looking uncharacteristically nervous in the torchlight. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and shame.
“They won’t let me touch the horses,” he said quickly.
Jandu squeezed Keshan’s shoulder, ignoring the gasps from the guards. He and Keshan marched together towards the stables.
“You found horses for us?” Jandu asked.
“I think so.” Keshan scowled ah
ead of him. “But I can’t tell much without being able to longe them, or at least see them move.” Keshan ground his teeth. “It’s very frustrating.”
It was the first time Keshan had admitted his dissatisfaction with his new status. As they walked towards the stables, Jandu looked around for a quiet corner, but none could be found. On the eve of the battle, everyone was out and about, with friends, family, comrades-in-arms. Finally Jandu made do with a narrow, dark space between two pitched officer’s tents and dragged Keshan into the shadows. He said nothing; he just hugged Keshan to him in silence.
Keshan was tense in Jandu’s arms, his whole body quivering with anxiety. But within moments he seemed to melt, slumping into Jandu’s embrace and resting his head on Jandu’s shoulder.
As soon as Jandu felt Keshan let go of his tension, he leaned forward and kissed Keshan. It was meant to be nothing more than a brief, reassuring kiss, but a flair of heat coursed through Jandu’s body as Keshan hungrily returned it, throwing his arms around Jandu’s neck and pressing his body close.
“The stable hands will leave soon,” Jandu whispered. “We have to pick our horses.”
Keshan immediately pulled back, and shot Jandu a look of utter disappointment. “I know. I know.” The two of them returned to the main road.
At the stable, Jandu used Keshan’s advice to select four stallions, all of them muscular with large heads. Three of them were brothers. They were more temperamental than Jandu would have chosen for himself, but he knew that Keshan had a way with strong-willed horses and therefore didn’t worry. He patted the dappled gray and almost lost his fingers for the gesture.
It was nearly midnight by the time the camp celebrations settled down. Fires were extinguished, and across the acres of tents, lamps blinked out like dying fireflies. Jandu and Keshan reviewed their own weapons, the chariot, and battle plans. They made their way back toward Yudar’s tent.
The guards were still outside, but the rest of the visitors had left. Jandu stepped past the guards. They moved as if to stop Keshan from following. Jandu shot them a dangerous look and they both backed away.
