‘Jarudha be merciful!’ Word muttered as he rose from his chair.
Acolytes and soldiers sprinted towards the airbird, but before they reached it, Hope scrambled from the wreckage and held up his hands to show that he was unhurt. ‘Jarudha be praised!’ Word cried.
‘Praised indeed,’ said Shadow, pleased that he’d witnessed the creation of a means to discourage Ranu avarice and aggression.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Aloft in his dragon egg, A Ahmud Ki observed the battle unfolding across the desert. The Kalan army had taken the high ground along a ridge of bare hills to the north-east, intent on pushing the Ranu invaders back towards the port of Mayed. His scouts and spies estimated the Kalan army at more than seven hundred thousand, a mixture of trained soldiers and tribal warriors banded together under a common banner to fight the Ranu. The size of their army was the Kalans’ only advantage against the fifty thousand-strong Ranu invasion force, but technology tilted the balance heavily in favour of the Ranu and A Ahmud Ki was quietly confident the conflict would not last a full day.
The battlefield was also a testing ground for two new inventions: a motorised carriage with a multi-barrelled peacemaker mounted on the front, protected by a metal shield; and a squad of flying soldiers, each man suspended by his own tiny dragon egg. The flying soldiers could hover above the enemy lines, out of bow and spear shot, dropping bombs or firing at their targets. Their effect was more demoralising rather than seriously damaging, but a broken-spirited enemy was much easier to rout.
After Kala fell, he would turn his attention to Ma-Tareshka and then to Jaru, systematically dominating the southern continent before marching into the northern lands. His ambassadors had established footholds in every nation of the eastern continents, via trading routes that had been opened for decades—centuries, in some cases—and his plan to bring the entire world under the rule of the Ranu people was unfolding inexorably.
He smiled at the prospect of being the president of all nations. A thousand years ago he had aspired to become the most powerful being in existence—a Dragonlord—only to have his ambitions thwarted by another Dragonlord. For a thousand years he had languished in a magical prison, mocked by the concept of immortality actually meaning his imprisonment in a hellish eternity. Then fate had brought Meg and his release, only for him to discover that the power he had craved had all but vanished from the face of the world. The Dragonlords, the Elvenaar and the Aelendyell, the old kings and the dragons, were long dead. In their place were inventors, politicians and a strange practice called democracy. He had tried to retrieve his power by returning to Se’Treya, only to narrowly avoid death by escaping through an old unused portal. That portal had taken him into the modern Ranu Ka Shehaala nation, where he had learned, mastered and applied a wholly new set of powers—political, military, technological. Exotically handsome because of his Aelendyell heritage, uncommonly versed in the ancient history and language of the Ranu culture because he had lived in and studied it a thousand years previously, charismatic in voice and presence, accustomed to power, intelligent and a rapid learner, A Ahmud Ki rose through the political ranks in Ranu Ka Shehaala almost unimpeded to become its president. Convincing the Ranu people to pursue his long-harboured dream to rule the world, he led them on conquest after conquest through the western continents, bringing to his adopted nation great glory and the promise of long-standing peace as each country, unable to defend itself against the might of Ranu technology, submitted to Ranu law. The new magic of invention had supplanted the old Kis as a source of ultimate power, and he embraced it as enthusiastically as he had once embraced the old magic.
There was one cost. In gaining power in the mortal world, he had also acquired mortality. By his reckoning, he was nearing seventy. He had been thirty or more years of age in human terms when Mareg had sealed him in the green glyph for eternity. More than thirty years had passed since Meg had released him and returned him to Se’Treya. He was getting old, but was ageing well. His silver hair, kept short and trimmed ever since he had returned to the Andrak world, was now matched by a neat silvery goatee, but he was conscious of the colour fading steadily to the white that was the common badge of office of the Aelendyell Elders in the ancient world. For that reason, he liked the change. It added to his charismatic aura, giving him the physical authority of an elder statesman. His elegantly thin frame had become more portly around the stomach, but his erect carriage and lithe movement still conveyed a sense that he took care of his body. Only the lines around his eyes and mouth whispered his true age. When he looked into the mirror, the face that stared back was much older, and sometimes he didn’t recognise the image as himself.
He could not help regretting that he had exchanged eternal imprisonment for creeping mortality. The old Dragonlords had held so much power they were able to stop the ageing process and remain eternally young. He had lost that chance, but as the conquering Ranu president he had power beyond anything he had achieved in his former life. Whatever he wanted was his for the taking—land, money, jewels, people. The time limit imposed on his life was his only challenge.
He felt a subtle change in the wind on his face and glanced at the Ranu dragoneers. The dragon egg’s captain, Ezal ka Nameer, smiled and said, ‘Nothing of concern, President. The winds are shifting to the north, but we’ll have calm weather and clear skies all day to watch the battle.’
A Ahmud Ki looked towards the Kalan ranks. Ranged along the left flank of the army were the cavalry, the riders mounted on strange beasts the Kala called midurns. Part-lizard, part-mammal, they were low-slung and wide-bodied four-legged creatures, large and strong enough to carry two men in a woven pannier, and their splayed webbed feet enabled them to travel efficiently across sand and soft earth. Almost as fast as a horse, more formidable in battle because their jaws could snap a man in half, the midurns had given the Kala military supremacy across their central region for several centuries. They were the Kalans’ tactical strike weapons—swift, terrifying and brutal. If left unchecked, the midurn cavalry could seriously dictate the battle’s outcome.
The Ranu generals, however, were primed to counteract the midurns’ impact.
A rumble like distant thunder drew A Ahmud Ki’s attention to his long-range giant peacemakers, which were positioned five thousand paces behind his main army. A long line of white cloud drifted south in the breeze, and within moments the midurn flank of the Kalan army erupted in explosive puffs. The thunder repeated and another string of explosions tore through the midurn ranks. The cavalry scattered to escape the bombardment.
To the north-west, an armada of dragon eggs drifted towards the Kalan line, riding high in the sky. The dragon eggs would make a bombing pass along the middle and rear of the Kalan army, further demoralising the troops, and then the Ranu army would maintain a steady bombardment with the peacemaker artillery until the Kalan retreated, capitulated or chose to charge.
I hope they capitulate, A Ahmud Ki thought. After the initial rush of power during his early years, when he had enjoyed the exhilaration that came with crushing his enemies, he had embarked on a policy of minimal battle and maximum negotiation to establish Ranu rule over other nations. He had discovered that the civilian population submitted more easily if the battle to conquer them swallowed up as few of their soldiers as possible. And the quicker a people were assimilated into the Ranu empire, the sooner A Ahmud Ki could direct his resources to the next conquest. He had mastered the art of appearing to be the popularly elected leader, while retaining his position through carefully manipulated periods of supreme command during wartime and as democratically appointed diplomat during the intervals of peace. He even allowed dissenters and opponents a degree of freedom of speech, while manipulating their impact on his empire for his own ends.
To A Ahmud Ki’s disappointment, the Kalan army began a determined march toward the Ranu line. They had nothing to combat the dragon eggs and their bombs or the long-range peacemakers, but still they chose to fight. It will be a bruta
l and bloody battle, he mused. So be it.
He gestured to the dragoneer, saying, ‘Return to headquarters. I’ve seen enough,’ and settled into his chair, knowing that the news later in the afternoon would be of a Ranu victory.
King Shadow settled on the throne, adjusted his red robe and waited for the Seers to draw up their chairs before his dais. He knew Scripture hated sitting at the foot of the throne because it reminded him of the king’s authority, so it gave Shadow great pleasure to hold all important meetings in the old Shessian chamber. It was payback too, because whenever Scripture called a meeting it was always in the Jarudhan temple, as if he needed to remind Shadow who had brought him to the throne.
Shadow dismissed the guards and waited until the thud of the closing double doors confirmed that the meeting was private and secure. He cleared his throat. ‘I will come to the point. I have received news from the Kalan ambassador that the Kalan kingdom has offered its allegiance to the Ranu president.’ He noted the horrified reaction of the Seers before he continued. ‘This is in force immediately. The Kalan army was slaughtered and the king has fled into hiding, probably north to Jaru.’
‘What provoked this invasion?’ Word asked.
‘The ambassador claims there was no provocation. King Ymja was most cordial in his dealings with the Ranu ambassadors and president.’
‘There is always provocation,’ Scripture muttered.
‘I suspect the only provocation was that Kala was not Ranu land,’ Shadow offered.
‘And what atrocities are the Ranu inflicting on the vanquished?’ Scripture asked.
Shadow folded his arms across his chest. ‘None, apparently.’
‘None?’ Word repeated.
‘The ambassador has informed me that the Ranu president has issued strict orders for his soldiers to treat all Kalan citizens with the same respect they would offer their own people. Kalan soldiers have been pardoned, even if they fought in the battle. Merchants have been told to continue business as usual.’
‘A takeover without changes?’
‘There are changes,’ Shadow said. ‘The Kalan state religion has been outlawed.’
‘It was always an abomination!’ Scripture snarled. ‘Jarudha has punished the faithless!’
‘Apparently, faith itself has not been outlawed,’ Shadow responded. ‘Under the Ranu laws, people may choose to follow whatever faith they wish. The Ranu allow religious freedom.’
‘Heresy!’ Scripture growled, getting to his feet. ‘There is one god and one faith! Religious freedom is a mockery of Jarudha’s law and The Word! The Ranu are empty vessels, grist for the fires of vengeance at the coming of the Demon Horsemen! They have condemned themselves and their minions to the hells!’
Shadow waited patiently for the tirade to end and for Scripture to resume his seat. The Seer glared at the king, as if daring him to order him to sit, before he returned to his place alongside his colleagues.
‘It seems we have a serious problem,’ Shadow said calmly. ‘Relations with the Ranu are a luxury we cannot afford to cultivate.’
‘The Ranu are not a threat to us,’ Word argued. ‘They have supported our transition from the old leadership to the new with its hope of establishing Jarudha’s Paradise.’
‘They gave us military aid to bring down Inheritor and his supporters,’ Law reminded them.
‘And we have profited from their ideas and inventions,’ Creator added. ‘The new airbirds would not have taken flight without their technology.’
‘Small gifts for a greater intention,’ said Shadow. ‘They have traded here for a long time and their ambassadors have acquired a house in the Northern Quarter to maintain a permanent embassy. They even asked my brother, before his unfortunate demise, to let them establish a military presence here.’ He paused for effect before adding, ‘Do you see what is happening?’
‘We have given them no cause for conflict,’ Word argued.
Shadow leaned forward. ‘Will the Ranu also be embraced when Jarudha’s Paradise is established?’
‘The Demon Horsemen will cleanse them from the earth!’ Scripture declared.
Shadow nodded in the silence that followed Scripture’s statement. ‘They have cause,’ he said quietly. ‘We hold a power far greater than anything their inventors can create. We have true faith and we know that the Demon Horsemen will destroy anything created by man. No doubt their spies have told them this as well.’
‘They cannot stand in the path of Jarudha’s coming,’ Word said. ‘No one can do that.’
‘No. But these people will try and that makes them a danger. Just as they have consumed every other nation, sooner or later they will consume us.’
‘Jarudha will not let that happen,’ said Scripture vehemently, standing again. ‘We have seen the signs and we know we are in the Last Days. What is this Ranu empire but another desperate attempt by a worldly and godless king to rule over everyone? He will fall, as all others have fallen, in the face of Jarudha’s awesome might. It is written and so it will be!’
‘So it will be,’ the Seers chorused.
Shadow smiled softly as he made the holy circle before his face. ‘So it will be,’ he said. ‘But we must act as Jarudha’s servants in this matter and do as Jarudha would want us to do.’
Scripture stared up at the king, holding his gaze for a long time, before he said, ‘Then let us plan for these events as we have planned before.’
CHAPTER NINE
Warlord Fist relished his new title. The rise of Shadow to the throne had carried him higher in status than he’d ever anticipated in his lifetime. He had served Shadow well, leading the rebel force provided by the Ranu to an overwhelming victory over Prince River’s army, and he had been justly rewarded. Wherever he walked he went with a bodyguard of ten men. Every soldier saluted him. The city mob feared him even more than they had when he was a mere hordemaster. He was the new regime’s strength incarnate, the man who ensured that the scum of the city—the gamblers, the whores, the thieves that had festered in the lanes and alleys and streets of Port of Joy—were rounded up and punished according to Jarudhan law. He couldn’t help but swagger when he walked. After the king and the infernal priests, he was the most important man in the city—in the kingdom. But it was the little things that gave him greatest pleasure—like torturing important political prisoners. He could easily leave the task to those specifically employed to wring pain and confession from others, but he was a professional and a true professional always kept his skills honed.
Smiling, he leaned forward so that his glittering eyes were barely a hand’s span from the prisoner’s face. ‘Does it hurt?’ he whispered. His victim’s terrified eyes gave him the answer he wanted. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I like it when it hurts.’
He reached past her head to the metal screw and turned it another notch, tightening the sweat-stained leather strap to stretch her right arm higher. She gave an exhausted squeal, her throat parched and sore from screaming.
‘Oh yes,’ he breathed, ‘it does hurt. How long can you keep this up, I wonder? Eh?’
He ran his hand over her naked breasts, down to her inner thigh, his fingers exploring the cruelly taut muscles and sinews. The young woman, although dirty and emaciated from her imprisonment and torture, was pretty and had been the unwilling source of his pleasure several times since her capture. He had orders from the Seers not to interfere with the women prisoners—he was meant to remain chaste as a servant of Jarudha—but he was guaranteed loyal silence from his guards, and out of sight of the king and the Seers he was free to do as he wished. Besides, the girl had been a filthy little whore before the law changed, and knew that being his plaything in the Bog Pit was the best she could hope for before she died. Despite his need, he decided against using her that morning. The king had summoned him and he was obliged to attend at his earliest convenience. ‘Put her back in her cell,’ he instructed.
The guards loosened the tension on the vertical rack and the woman collapsed groaning to
the flagstones. He watched the men drag her from the interrogation cell; a professional kept his eye on every aspect of the victim’s torture. This young woman had proven especially resilient, refusing to divulge much information beyond where her colleagues had gone. As it turned out, she’d lied about that. The troops sent east to the ruins of the old Ashuak capital had found no one, not even a sign that their quarry had been there ahead of them. Unwilling to accept failure, Fist sent a second and then a third squad in search of the fugitives, using the newly acquired Ranu dragon eggs to travel over the eastern mountains into the foreign lands, but the thief and his friends had vanished. A year later he sent a fourth squad to maintain a vigil in the ruined city, and was still waiting for any news regarding the fugitives. He was convinced, therefore, that the young woman had lied from the outset and knew exactly where her companions were, so he maintained the daily torture, varying the methods, determined to extract the truth from her. Secretly, he was pleased that she was so strong at withholding information. Perhaps, despite her protests, she was enjoying the pain and intimacy of torture too. He smiled at the possibility as he headed for the exit.
Creator waited for his colleagues to take their places in the invention chamber before he stepped onto the wooden circular stage where various objects were carefully laid out. In his right hand he held a small glass container of amber liquid, and he lifted it to draw his fellow Seers’ attention. ‘Disciples of Jarudha,’ he began dramatically, ‘I give you the greatest Blessing of all. Enlightenment.’
He extracted the glass stopper, lifted the container to his lips and drank. He bent to place the empty container on the floor, picked up a hammer and smashed it.
‘Enlightenment works quickly,’ he said, ‘and as you can see, it doesn’t impair my thoughts or actions. But what it enables me to do is significantly different from earlier improvements to the euphoria.’
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