Dev felt an odd smile breach his mask of sourness. This was the general he had seen in Velutio, who had stood up to the insane emperor. This was the man who could save and build empires. And Dev would follow General Cinna to the end of the world. Or in this case, away from it.
The riders cast one last glance at the doomed plain of Jalnapur as the paltry imperial forces gathered in an attempt to fight to the last while an endless torrent of ululating white riders poured over the hill and down upon them. Then the general and his men turned their mounts and rode away from the war for the last time.
But perhaps not all the gods were watching over them, for as the last blue-clad rider disappeared into the jungle, none of them saw a force of white-clad warriors split off from the huge army and race along the edge of the plain towards the scene of the recent skirmish and the departing guardsmen. And among that smaller white-clad torrent, the Sizhad himself rode, silent and grim.
With a purpose.
Chapter 21
I had been waiting for them. Somehow I knew the generals would come. In some way, I think I was hoping that my time of decision-making and command was coming to an end. With such illustrious leaders as they, I would surely be superfluous.
Aram digested the news from his pickets with a grim face. It was far from good news. Riders were coming to the monastery, but not just the ones he’d been hoping for. Yes, the lead group was a mix of imperial soldiers in blue and strange men in Inda clothing who could only be Jiang and his riders, but the other group…
Fortunately, Aram and his people had time to decide what to do, thanks to the new system of communication the pickets were using. It had been thought an unnecessary precaution, but with what seemed to be happening in the living world beyond the markers, Aram was happy to take every precaution that came up.
It was a number of miles from the monastery to the line of markers, and the paths that led between the two were ancient, winding this way and that according to terrain and vegetation. Aram’s men, though, included foresters and engineers, carpenters and masons. In the past weeks a new path had been driven through the jungle – a secret way that led in a straight line from the pickets’ position near the markers to the monastery gate. Rivulets and dips had been bridged with good timber, marshy areas lined with wooden boards or gravel, vegetation cut back to create a safe and open ride.
They had tested the results and even Aram had been impressed. A man riding a horse as fast as he dared along the winding jungle way from the ancient markers to the monastery could do so in six hours if he really pushed. A rider along the new secret line could do it in less than three. Sometimes even two.
Thus is was that the force of the two generals was still some distance from the monastery, unaware of their pursuers, while Aram, who waited for them tensely and nervously, knew already of the white-clad warriors following them.
‘What do we do?’ Mani asked quietly. The picket was still standing close by, wild-eyed and worried, but Aram had not yet made any of this public.
‘Keep his mouth shut. I don’t want word of this getting out to everyone until Cinna and Jiang get here. They are men used to dealing with military tactics and, while unarmed, they bring hundreds of trained soldiers with them. If the people here learn of enemies in the spirit lands, there could be panic.’
Especially armed ones.
How had that happened?
The worried-looking picket had been adamant about that. Aram had pressed him. ‘Are you sure? Absolutely certain?’ But the man had insisted. General Cinna and his small cavalry force had discarded their weapons at the markers, but the white-clad men came on armed. Aram could only hope that the ghosts were simply biding their time. But the knowledge that the monks all seemed to have gone offered a worrying possibility.
And Aram knew who the white-clad men were. Who they had to be. He had seen the strange mendicant priests and hermits who had shunned the Inda gods and followed the bright sun occasionally in his life and they uniformly wore white. Given what Dev and Cinna had said about the Sizhad, this had to be them.
Was it possible that a man’s faith could protect him from ghosts? The monks who had built the monastery certainly seemed to have believed that.
‘Mani, you’ve fought in battles plenty of times. Is it possible for an unarmed force to overcome an armed one?’
The soldier shrugged. ‘If they are strong enough and determined enough. Mostly it would come down to numbers. We would stop them but the death toll for our people would be horrifying. I suspect you would think it unacceptable, if that helps you make a decision.’
Aram simply grunted. What decision was there to make? That was why he needed Cinna and Jiang here to take control. The generals’ force had been estimated as somewhere between four and five hundred. The white-clad riders behind them numbered significantly more. Perhaps seven hundred. Perhaps more. Pickets generally did not stay around to count too closely.
Aram stood at the gate platform and fretted, his thoughts repeatedly circling through problems without ever reaching a conclusion, while Mani stood impassively, silent and strong. Bajaan was close by, drilling a dozen of the chosen defenders in the art of the open-handed punch, while Parmesh hovered by one of the granaries, ostensibly overseeing an inventory, though clearly also keeping a close eye on Aram and the men at the gate. In fact, Aram’s air of tense impatience was drawing the gaze of many of the population as they passed through the open ground.
He was grateful when the first horsemen emerged from the treeline. Wearing blue and white uniforms and gleaming silvered armour, the column thundered out into the open, between the fields and directly towards the monastery gate. Behind them came another group of riders in drab brown peasant clothing. As the horsemen closed on the gate, the faces of Jiang and Jai became clear, confirming Aram’s assumptions.
‘Aram of Initpur,’ Cinna greeted him with a face that displayed a mix of relief and sadness.
‘Generals. Dev. Jai.’
His sons nodded at him, smiling, though each upturned mouth was weighted down with the same sadness as the general’s. Clearly beyond having failed to stop the cataclysm at Jalnapur, something else had gone dreadfully awry, though now was probably not the time to pry.
‘We have come to beg your hospitality once more, Aram,’ the stocky westerner said with a touch of formality. ‘This time on a permanent basis.’
Aram nodded, though his brow was furrowed.
‘Trouble follows you, General.’
‘Trouble always follows us, but you have a place of safety here. We would join you if you will have us.’
Aram shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. Our safety is compromised. You bring peril with you. White riders follow you in the spirit lands.’
Jiang and Cinna and their two adjutants shared disbelieving looks.
‘We outran the Sizhad’s army and left them dealing with the survivors at Jalnapur.’
‘No, General Cinna. There are more than six hundred riders in white an hour behind you at most, and they are armed. Do not ask me how they managed it without being taken by the spirits, but they have. They are coming with gleaming blades.’
‘How do you know this?’ Jiang muttered.
‘We have good communication now. I have swift routes, and most approaches are monitored. Only the ones to the south are not, and they are prepared in case we have to seal them and keep the dead out.’
Cinna and Jiang looked at one another, thinking deeply.
‘Six hundred or more. Armed fanatics.’
Jiang nodded. ‘I would not feel confident standing our men against them unarmed, despite their experience, let alone farmers and artisans.’
Aram felt a weight lift from him despite the words being spoken. The military decision makers were here.
‘What do we do?’ he asked.
The two generals turned to him in surprise. ‘You are the leader here, Aram.’
‘No. I cannot command a battle. I am not a general.’
; The two men paused for a moment, still deep in thought.
‘The spirits have not taken them,’ Dev said suddenly.
‘That is true.’
‘Then that means the spirits are either powerless or they have gone. And you believe the monks have gone too.’
‘It has certainly appeared that way for some time,’ his father replied.
‘Then they have gone south. The line of markers both sides of the Nadu are neglected, the paths rarely trodden. You found this place empty. They clearly have not gone north. To east and west it appears to be the same story, and eventually there is the sea. So that leaves the south.’
‘The south?’ Parmesh suddenly snorted, drawing their attention. None of them had been aware of the old man’s approach. ‘The south is a killing land. Even the monks would never leave the borderlands and go south.’
‘That’s not strictly true,’ Aram pointed out. ‘The map in the monastery was created by people who have walked the paths of the south. But they were the monks. The chosen.’ He turned back to the generals. ‘He is right, though. The further south you go, the more dangerous the land becomes. That has always been known. The spirits become more jealous and harsh until finally you reach the Isle of the Dead, and no man in his right mind goes there on purpose. No one has ever been and returned. In fact, barring a few legends and ghost stories, no one has ever crossed the water at all.’
Cinna drummed the fingers of his left hand on his saddle horn, straightening in his saddle. ‘I will command any battle for you, Aram, but you are still the leader here. I can present you with only two choices: run or fight.’
Aram shivered at the thought of either. To abandon the safety and comfort of the monastery…
‘If you run, the only choice is south. To the north lies the end of the world by sword and fire. The sea bounds us to east and west. South holds only the unknown and legends of terror. But mark this: half a thousand armed fanatics will cut their way through us like a warmed knife in a block of butter. Even armed, my soldiers or Jiang’s Crimson Guard would be unable to stop them. Bare-handed? No. We have lost men on the journey. We have just over three hundred altogether. We could defeat them by sheer weight of numbers, but that would require committing the people of the monastery, and you would lose many men. If you are to create a hope for a future you need those men.’
‘But the spirits…’ Parmesh argued.
‘If the spirits have gone south…’ Aram said, noting that Cinna claimed a good hundred men fewer than his picket had estimated. Had the man been as wide of the mark with enemy numbers? ‘If the spirits have gone south and are not here to deal with these interlopers, then perhaps the south is the only place they can be defeated.’
‘This talk is madness.’
General Jiang shook his head. ‘Cinna and Aram are right, my friend. You are in awe and fear of the unknown. That is only natural. But when the known involves the death of thousands by the swords of howling fanatics, the unknown starts to look surprisingly palatable.’
Dev threw his arm out and pointed back along the path. ‘I have seen these men up close, seen what they can do. What they will do. No one will be safe. In the name of the living sun, they will burn and blind, kill and destroy. You cannot allow that to happen to our people. Father, we talked last time we were here. You told us how you had abandoned everything you ever knew and set off into the unknown to save the people of Initpur. All the generals are saying is that you need to do the same again. The danger is come upon us again, and we cannot hope to fight it without endless slaughter. You need to lead our people into the unknown again. You’ve done it once.’
Aram breathed slowly, eyeing his son with a tinge of pride. Dev had grown strong and sharp. And he was right. Damn him, but he was right. And so was Cinna. The unknown could be better than the known.
‘Mani? Parmesh? Bajaan? Sound the muster. We are leaving.’
‘No,’ Parmesh snapped. ‘You cannot be so stupid. To walk deeper into the dead lands? It is folly.’
‘We have no choice,’ shouted Aram, wheeling angrily on the ever-dissenting Parmesh. ‘We are going. Anyone who wants to stay with you will have that choice, but they will stay only to feed the blades of the sun-worshipping fanatics. Anyone who strives to live is leaving. Mani, sound the muster.’
Though his face was troubled, Mani stepped over to the bell and rang it wildly, the sound ringing out across the monastery, before pausing and then giving three short rings, pausing again, then three more, and continuing the rhythm for some time as men and women, children and even dogs came running out of buildings to the open square. As the people of the monastery began to assemble, General Jiang leaned forward. ‘How long do we have before the white riders get here?’
‘I cannot say for certain. It depends how recklessly they ride. Men who travel these paths do so carefully, as you know, General.’
‘These men will travel with less care,’ Dev replied. ‘They will come fast.’
‘Less than an hour, then, I would say.’
‘I have seen villages flee before,’ Jiang said. ‘It is not a speedy undertaking, even if people are desperate. They will need time to hook up beasts, load wagons and the like.’
‘We will never outrun them if we’re slowed by carts,’ Dev argued, and this brought a chorus of nods.
‘But without supplies the people might as well lie down here and await their fate, for starvation on the run is an unpleasant way to go,’ said Cinna. ‘We had supplies on our journey south, and we still felt the pangs of hunger as we hunted every last rabbit to supplement our meals. Now there will be thousands of us. They need to eat.’
‘And we have good supplies,’ Aram added. ‘Plenty for weeks of travel.’
‘All of which is precious use if they slow us down so much that the blades of the Faithful reach us first,’ Dev sighed.
‘Then the answer is simple,’ Jiang said. ‘We need to delay them to get a head start. How do we slow them, Aram? You know this land.’
Aram shook his head. He was no tactician. They had set up pickets and a few precautions, of course, but the latter were south of the monastery, to protect against whatever might come from there.
‘There is no easy way to slow anyone approaching from the north.’
Cinna gestured at Mani and Bajaan. Parmesh had gone, presumably to spread his poisonous ideas. ‘You two. You seem to be Aram’s most trusted men. Get everyone organised as fast as you can. Get the carts loaded now and ready to move.’
The two Inda looked to Aram for a moment, but at his nod they ran off and began to prepare.
‘You say “from the north”,’ Jiang noted. ‘You can slow an approach from the south? You said you could seal the route to keep the dead out.’
Aram nodded. Early in their time at the monastery, they had checked each approach to the place. The main southern route crossed a river – not wide or deep, but boggy-banked and difficult. Parmesh had been all for demolishing the crossing there and then, for fear of what lay beyond. Aram had decided against it, though he had prepared things should its sabotage be required at some point.
‘The southern route crosses a low trestle bridge. The river is not like the Nadu, but it will stop even horsemen for a while. The bridge has been prepared. Two horses and a dozen heartbeats and it will be little more than kindling in the water.’
‘There is our advantage,’ Jiang said with an air of satisfaction. ‘Once we cross that river, we can buy ourselves a good lead. I remember you showing me the map in the monastery last time we were here, Aram. The roads to the south cross and wind. With enough of a head start we can lose ourselves in it and leave the Sizhad’s men guessing where we are. Jai here is a master scout. He and his men could cover our tracks in mere moments, I am sure.’
Jai nodded and Aram scratched his head. ‘I have had copies made of the map. It seemed prudent. We can navigate the south, barring… unforeseen problems.’
‘Then we are in a strong position once we are across that
bridge. But that will take time.’
Already carts and animals were being brought out behind them. Cinna and Jiang exchanged a glance. ‘They need time.’
‘They do. We can buy them that time.’
Aram felt his blood chill at the realisation of what they were suggesting. ‘There has to be another way.’
‘There is not, Aram, and you know that,’ Cinna said. ‘Remember, I told you you were still the leader, but that I would command any battle for you. I shall do just that, along with Jiang here.’
‘Perhaps we could find weapons?’ Jai put in.
‘You are not coming with us,’ Jiang said flatly.
‘General—’
‘No. I will not allow you or your brother to throw your lives away buying time for your father.’
Dev straightened. ‘Neither of you can claim to command any longer. You are not generals any more. I serve you only because I wish to. You cannot command me to stay behind, and I will not.’ He looked at Jai, who nodded his agreement.
Aram again felt that chill. ‘You know we cannot wield weapons here,’ he said quietly.
‘Evidence suggests otherwise, Aram,’ Cinna replied, pointing at the line of jungle to the north. ‘Things have changed.’ He turned to the large crowd of riders. ‘The Crimson Guard need to remove this disguise and armour up. While you’re doing that, my men will search the monastery and find every axe, sickle, knife and sharp stick. We might not have swords, but we can at least give them a fight.’
The eastern guardsmen looked to their general, who translated the westerner’s words into his native tongue. As his men began to remove their turbans and dismount, fishing in their packs, Jiang turned to Aram. ‘We will hold them only as long as we have to. Once the last cart crosses the bridge, ring the bell loud and we will come. And be fast. We can’t hold them long.’
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