Suddenly he found himself wondering where, in all this nightmare, Dev was.
Chapter 18
How the world changes. Once upon a time the lands of the Inda rajahs were bright, colourful, lively places full of wonder and glory and exotic life, while beyond the line of markers was a land of death and madness and terror of such infamy that a natural no man’s land came to exist between the two where no sane man would settle.
Now the world of the Inda is one of misery and blood, downtrodden people and rotting corpses, lacking in all glory and life, and invariably the colour of blood. There, the unburned, tortured souls would be creating a new land of the dead. Yet here, beyond the markers, we have carved out a life more oddly peaceful and prosperous than even that which I once knew at Initpur.
Yet there are things that nag at me in the small hours of the night. I find myself wondering what will happen when we are discovered by others, for that time must come. Even if Generals Cinna and Jiang keep secret our world, since they stumbled across us others must do so eventually. And also I wonder what the world is like south of here, for we are only a day’s good journey past the markers, and there is at least a week’s journey south through these lands to the Isle of the Dead itself, and I can only imagine that things become steadily more dangerous the further one trespasses. And I wonder at the bodies of the scouts we found when we first crossed the line and how they died with such horrified faces, and what criteria the spirits use to decide whether to let men pass or to kill them or drive them mad. And I wonder where the monks have gone. And I wonder why the monastery seemed so prepared for us. And I ponder the meaning of fate and just how much my path has been mapped out in advance.
All I can do is my best.
Aram watched the picket riding in from the east in the bright early autumn sunshine amid the calls of exotic birds and the hum of insects. The man’s attitude and his horse’s gait were brisk but did not smack of desperation. The rider closed on the monastery swiftly and Aram noted the lookout at the gate platform move close to the warning bell, ready to ring it like mad. The old man shook his head slightly.
‘I don’t think that will be necessary. Wait for now.’
The rider reached the gate and leaned over the sweating horse’s neck, patting it as he addressed the leader of the free Inda. ‘Men are coming. Quite a few, using the crossing.’
‘Be specific. How many? What men?’
‘Maybe a hundred. Maybe more. They’re soldiers of the Jade Empire, but they’re moving like refugees. Some are wounded and they all look beaten. They have discarded their weapons outside the markers and many are unarmoured too.’
Aram felt crestfallen at the news. So much hope lost so soon. ‘It sounds as though the generals have failed to achieve their goal of peace. A terrible thing, when they had come so close within these very walls.’
For a soul-freezing moment he pictured Jai lying in a bloodied heap amid the muddy fields of Jalnapur, but he shook off the image, biting down on his lip. Fate had brought them all together for a reason, and if it was not to put an end to the war as the generals had planned, then there was something else still to achieve. Jai would be safe until that happened, Aram was sure, as would Dev.
‘If they are coming south, does it mean they have lost?’ the picket asked.
‘Possibly,’ Aram said. ‘Whatever the case, we have nothing to fear from a hundred unarmed men. We are prepared, strong and numerous. Let them come.’
‘Shall I gather the defence?’ the gate lookout asked.
The monastery’s leader shook his head. ‘If these men are wounded and beaten, they are not seeking trouble. If we meet them with a force of gathered muscle we cannot be certain how they will react. Let us treat this as a meeting of minds, not of muscle. Summon the medics. They have wounded.’
As the medics were sought and the picket dismounted and took his horse to the stables, those workers outside began to drift in, and some of the population moved inside to safety. No matter that the alarm bell had not been rung, the arrival of one of the pickets suggested that someone was coming, and many of the Inda were still not willing to risk even the slightest chance of encountering an enemy.
Aram adjusted his garments and stepped out of the gates into the dusty, well-trodden space before them. People scurried past him on their way to perceived safety, though some remained at their tasks in the fields and orchards, trusting that there was no danger since the bell had not tolled. There Aram waited as the sun baked the ground beneath him. After a while, half a dozen men and women gathered by the gate with their baskets of equipment. The medical staff of the monastery numbered two midwives, a horse doctor, two village healers, and a surgeon who had served one of the more important western rajahs upon a time. Together they were capable of dealing with any medical situation that arose among the complex’s populace, but how they would deal with war wounds remained to be seen.
It was almost an hour before the first men emerged from the jungle along the eastern path, making their way between the fields and the few men and women still working them, and closed on the monastery. The group moved together, as though for mutual protection, and as they came closer, Aram could see not only the defeated faces of a losing army, but also wide-eyed fear born of something entirely different. He was no expert in military matters, but he had long known the Jade Empire – all his life, in fact – and he knew their adherence to rules and order was paramount. That was what made this group so unusual for their people. They did not march in unison, but shuffled close together. They were not clad in the same garb either, but bore at least three different uniforms, which meant these were the survivors of several different units. The group seemed to be led by three officers, though their ranks were a mystery to Aram. One was clearly senior, since he stepped forward as the party came to a halt a score of paces from the Inda leader and the others looked to him to act.
‘Do you speak my tongue?’ the man asked in a strange, nervous voice. Aram almost laughed. It was the first time in his life he had heard anyone of the Jade Empire display nerves when faced with the Inda. How things had changed within a year.
‘With reasonable proficiency,’ Aram said. ‘Your people have been coming to our lands for a long time.’
The officer had the good sense to look apologetic at that, but it was still almost lost beneath a wave of fear and despair. Aram took pity on him.
‘Have your wounded move over to the bales by the wall, the most urgent cases to the fore. Our medics will tend to them.’
‘Thank you,’ the officer said with genuine feeling. ‘I am surprised, and of course relieved, to find you here. I was led to believe there was no one beyond the statues. Only…’
‘Only ghosts,’ Aram finished for him. ‘Almost true. I believe we are the only ones, though I suppose it is possible that similar colonies have sprung up. We were forced to flee the war and seek a place of refuge. We found it here, but there will be only spirits south of this place, all the way to the isle.’
‘The spirits…’ one of the other officers said, shuddering, his eyes wide. ‘I saw… things. Heard things. Others fled south when we lost the bridge but did not heed the warnings. They would not leave their weapons outside. We are taught never to disarm in war. But they… We found some of them in the jungle. They…’
Aram nodded. ‘I know. I have seen it. You did well to listen to the tales. They are not just myth.’
‘We will not be the last to come here,’ the senior officer interrupted.
‘The war is over?’
‘Not yet, but it is lost. The Jade Empire crumbles from within. There is civil war. And the westerners’ mad emperor sent so many men to Jalnapur that we could not hold them. They ravage now across the heart of this land, seeking to control and enslave, while our forces scatter before them. Many have gone east to fight for a flag in the hope of serving the next emperor, whoever he might be, and some went north into uncertainty. Others are coming south. But it will not just be us – not just me
n of the Jade Empire. When the westerners learn we have come into these forbidden lands, they will be sure to follow in their hunger for total victory. I saw them after the bridge. They were merciless. Wanton. Nightmarish.’
Aram nodded. ‘We are far from defenceless, even lacking weapons. And the gods and the spirits surround us. We do not fear them.’
‘You should,’ the officer said, darkly. ‘They are animals, and they will come. I wish you no harm, spirit-rajah, but others will. I will lead my men further south, away from the danger.’
‘Further south is into danger,’ Aram countered. ‘If you have heeded the warnings thus far, then you know that. The south is the island of the dead. A world of ghosts.’
The officer sighed. ‘Why worry about an island of the dead when north of here is a whole world of the dead? I have no fear left in me to feel. We go south. And before the westerners decide to cross into these lands, I recommend that you go too.’
Aram shook his head. Whatever the case, whether they were in danger here or not, there was something yet coming, he was sure, and he could not flee into the unknown when his sons were still out there and would come back.
‘No. We have a haven of civilisation here and we will protect and nurture it as long as we can.’
‘Then I wish you luck, but we shall not stay,’ the soldier said. ‘With your permission, though, I would leave our wounded to your care? I am not sure they will make it through the jungle.’
‘I am not sure you will,’ Aram said darkly, but nodded. ‘Of course we will take your wounded.’
‘I would stay with you,’ said the other officer, the one with the wide eyes. The senior man cast a surprised look at him and the second officer shrugged. ‘The westerners are dangerous, sir, but the things we saw on the way… I… I feel safe here. If it is like that all the way south, full of spirits and fear and death, then I have no wish to go there.’
The senior officer peered at him for some time, then gave a dissatisfied nod. ‘Very well. If this rajah will take you, then anyone who wishes to stay may do so.’
Aram nodded. Briefly, in his head, he calculated the space in the monastery. They had acquired several hundred more souls in the past few weeks as refugees drifted south, close to the border, and were brought in by Aram’s scouts, but he estimated there would still be room and supplies for seven or eight hundred more. Beyond that, they would be stretching their capabilities. There were perhaps forty here stepping out to join them, plus a dozen wounded. But if other such defeated men were still to come, how long could they manage?
No matter how hard you might try, you simply cannot hide from the world, Aram…
Autumn, the northern mountains
The Sizhad watched the soldiers in the valley below, his fingers picking at the crumbling mortar of the ruined watchtower. A couple of hundred figures in blue and white moving slowly and carefully, as though expecting an ambush at any moment. Had this been back in the valley of the sun, he would have had them cut down by archers instantly, but there was something nagging at the back of his mind, and he had instead sent the advance missile unit off to the side, where they now lurked in the shade with the cavalry vanguard, waiting for the bulk of the force to catch up.
‘They are definitely imperial troops,’ one of his Faithful said. ‘A senior officer and his bodyguard. Curious to see them here in the valleys so far from Jalnapur.’
The Sizhad squinted into the shade of the deep valley that wound across the landscape below this high pass of which no foreigner would be aware as he addressed his man.
‘With the Jade Empire collapsing in on itself and their army scattering, likely the western heretics are pressing their advantage, seeking to expand their control over the Inda. They must be in these mountains ascertaining what they face in the coming days. They cannot be expecting us yet.’
Although his brother had escaped. Had he survived? Had he told them about the Faithful?
The Sizhad turned and looked back. The mountain pass was dotted with his scouts and outriders in white and beige, hard to spot among the brown earth and light-grey rocks. Beyond them, as yet out of sight, the army of the Faithful marched, full of the glorious light of the sun, ready to fall upon the legions of demon worshippers. They had been moving for four days now and were closing on the edge of the highlands, ready to descend into the lower lands and bring the true faith to the godless.
‘We should fall upon these dogs and kill them,’ the rider beside him said fervently.
Perhaps they should, at that. But then there was that little something nagging at him, stopping him. The Sizhad looked up at the great ball of light in the sky, giver of life, preserver of the world, and stared as long as he could, then looked back down into the valley, the purple and green blotches filling his vision. They neatly obscured the riders. The sun had spoken, and it was a relief that his instincts had not been wrong.
‘No. They are important. But they are also in the way. If we wish to crush their army, which we must if we are to proceed, then we need to go south. Perhaps…’ He smiled at a notion. ‘Perhaps the lord of light is telling us not to ambush and attempt to surprise the heretics. Such subterfuge is, after all, a thing of shadow and gloom. Perhaps the time has come to announce our presence to the world.’
The eagerness in the Faithful riders around him was tangible at the sentiment.
‘We shall destroy their army, which is now somewhat dispersed, chasing away their beaten foe and pressing down their occupying footprint. It will not be a hard fight. The sun is with us. Then we shall turn west and fall upon their unprotected empire. All of their military might is here and their lands are ripe for conquest. Their heathen temples and images of demons shall be cast down and the sun shall rise in their place, bringing with it a new empire of prosperity and piety.’
The riders were positively buzzing with readiness. The Sizhad smiled. The world needed to change, and it took belief to do such a thing. His Faithful had belief to spare.
‘Signal the army to pick up the pace. Tell them to cross the pass like sunlight chasing away the darkness. Let the riders down there see the Faithful in all their power and glory and flee before our might, carrying word of the glory to come.’
PART FOUR – A WORLD OF GHOSTS
Chapter 19
The rose and the snow lotus grow proud
Garden and mountain-doting parents
Separate and lone
Yet together in glory
Ong Dynasty, author unknown
Jai watched the scout coming back across the hillside as he bit the side of his tongue in anticipation. They had travelled through the low moorlands and up into the foothills of that range of mountains imperial geographers knew as the Spine of the World, all the time staying ahead of trouble, if only just. In their rabid thirst for violent victory, the enemy had pursued and harried the shattered eastern army with the tenacity of terriers, the scent of blood in their nostrils.
Inevitably, news reached the small party as they moved, despite their urgent pace, for rumour travels faster than any animal in the world. According to word from the south, already the central plains and hills of the Inda Diamond were becoming subjugated, and the victorious imperial force had been split into smaller armies to control, conquer and chastise. If rumour was to be believed, no quarter was being offered to the fleeing eastern soldiers. When they were found they were executed publicly, the result of western soldiers taking out their frustration over such a long and corrosive campaign. Whatever the reason for such savagery, the news boded badly for the defeated men of the Jade Empire, and already word of the missing commanders had spread. A bounty had been offered for the head of the former general Xeng Shu Jiang and his Inda adjutant, as well as a number of other senior officers. Jai had been simply staggered by the sum offered for the general, or even for tidings of him, and had been oddly pleased at the impressive figure attached to his own name. It seemed he was worth hunting.
They had lived with that danger all the way from
Jalnapur, and it was a clear and ever-present peril, for a tall, impressive easterner in the company of an Inda male, both well dressed and well-armoured and riding with a guard of two hundred men in red demon masks, were hardly inconspicuous. Even if Jai and the general had disguised themselves, the guard would give them away, and there was no way in this climate any of them were going to surrender their weapons and armour for the sake of anonymity.
Yet despite the potential reward, no one had sold them out. No one had made an attempt on them during the night and, seemingly, no one had even passed on information as to their whereabouts, or at least not soon enough to lead to their capture. If Jiang’s policy of being as fair and reasonable with the Inda as was possible had not won him the land, it had at least gained him a level of respect. With word that the westerners were imposing harsh rule upon the lands they took, as the small party passed, the natives treated them with care and deference, feeding and aiding them where they could, almost as though Jiang and his men were Inda themselves. Certainly the eastern invaders that had seemed so unpalatable earlier in the year were being cast in a new light by these westerners.
And so they had reached the north without a run-in with imperial troops. Jai travelled with the constant worry of pursuit, as was natural, though their objective also plagued him with sleeplessness and concern. It had become clear as they travelled that there could be only one destination for them. Unless they planned to hide in a mountain village for the rest of their life, they would have to seek a place with the one strong force that did not yet want them dead. And Dev had made his feelings about this Sizhad quite clear: the man was a lunatic and his army a frenzied force of zealots. Jai could not see sanctuary with such a group being any more palatable than being on the run. Still, there was not a great deal of choice. Neither empire would welcome them while they breathed, the horse clans of the north would simply enslave them, and the Inda were all but gone.
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