Fire of Ages (The Powers of Amur Book 6)

by J. S. Bangs

  “It’ll protect the entrance,” he said. “Slow them down a little bit.”

  A moment later the jar was empty, the stones wet with blessed water. Bhudman bowed his head for a moment.

  “Let’s go,” one of the soldiers said, grabbing him by the arm. They marched across the bridge.

  They crossed the bridge and pushed through the gates. “Light the fires and break the dams,” he heard the lieutenant say.

  On the other side of the gate, the inner city was a swarming riot not much less chaotic than the outer. The soldiers pushed through, making their way to the towers of the palace within the inner city. The soldiers elbowed aside men and women, old merchants and young mothers, forcing a path to bring Daladham and Bhudman back to their home. At the gate, the soldiers formed up into a wall and pushed Daladham and Bhudman against the doors.

  “Open!” the lieutenant shouted. There was a moment’s hesitation, shouting that Daladham couldn’t understand, then the doors began to creak open.

  Shadows of movement within the courtyard garden just beyond the gate. A few soldiers moved aside. A woman advanced through a crack in the gate. One of the men attempted to stop her, placing a hand on her arm, but she shook herself free of him and walked up to Daladham.

  “Fool!” the woman shouted.

  It was Srithi. Her eyes were wide, and her voice echoed across the stones of the entranceway. Her hair was untied, and it flowed down her shoulders and into her face like a black curtain. Daladham stepped back.

  “Fool!” she shouted again. “She Who Devours is born from the birthplace of iron, and you recoil from the words of deliverance.”

  “What are you—” he started to say, but Srithi did not give him any chance to respond.

  She strode forward and seized his beard in both hands. Her eyes gleamed like fires were lit within them. She pulled Daladham’s face close to hers. “Do not be afraid. Have pity on the many and slay the few.”

  He fell silent. He could feel the eyes of Bhudman and the rest of the soldiers on his skin like the pricks of needles.

  “You have singed the fingers of the devourer,” she said, “but you have not thrust at the heart. You have crushed the leaves on the tree but you have not pierced the root. Fool! Coward! Speak the forgotten name, hold the forbidden feast.”

  The words echoed unbidden in his mind.

  Kisyama Varuru janit.

  Daratham janit.

  Smoke began to rise over the inner walls. The fires the lieutenant had ordered set—they were burning the outer city, to leave less for the Devoured to take. The space behind him was filling with soldiers, the last of those who had retreated before the Devoured.

  “My daughter!” a man cried, his voice rising above the din. “She was just a few feet behind me! Wait!”

  The doors continued to close. Horns blew at the east and west ends of the inner city, and a roaring sound grumbled beneath the din of the mob. The crash of splintering wood. Daladham glanced back: they had pulled away the supports of the bridge, letting the planks fall into the empty moat and cutting off the last access between the inner city and the outer.

  Srithi came closer to Daladham. Her voice dropped to a whisper, but it vibrated with power and fury.

  “Fool,” she said. “Coward. Do not draw back.”

  The roaring reached a crescendo as the seawater rushing in from both ends of the moat met in the center, sending up a muddy splash. Roiling waves of water drowned the channel, turning the inner city into an island. Wails of dismay from those left in the outer city reached his ears.

  “What would you have me do?” Daladham asked.

  “Weep for your salvation and bless the hour of your death,” Srithi said. “Burn the field and scatter the seed.”

  The gates of the inner city closed with a crash.

  * * *

  The sun had set, and darkness swallowed the guarded inner city. Daladham’s room was lit with a pair of lamps that hung from chains on the ceiling, casting inconstant light over the low table between him, Bhudman, and Navran.

  Daladham pressed his hands together and bowed his head. “It is not just a ritual,” he whispered. “It is the rite itself. The sacrifice which Manjur performed to bring down the lance of heaven against the serpent.”

  Srithi stood against the wall some distance behind them, twisting the ends of her unbound hair in her hands. The wild, spirit-mad look with which she had greeted Daladham had disappeared, but she looked no happier. She stared at Navran with fierce disapproval and whispered, “The forgotten name. The forbidden feast.”

  “But that…” Navran said, “that will ruin us worse than She Who Devours.”

  “That is not true,” Srithi said.

  Navran looked at Daladham in bewilderment and anger. “Are you sure that’s what the book contains?”

  “I am sure,” Daladham said softly. “A few days ago I began to suspect it. There is no title, no explanation of what the rite is supposed to do, so it wasn’t obvious. But the prayers themselves gradually made it clear. You understand I had to be very, very careful. I know we cannot do this lightly.”

  “We are not doing anything lightly,” Navran said. His fingers twitched with impatience. “Because we are not doing it at all.”

  Bhudman spoke softly. “My lord and king, the knowledge of Kushma Ulaur—”

  Navran eyes darted to Srithi. “Quiet. Does she know?”

  “I know,” Srithi said softly. “The amashi revealed it to me this morning, and Daladham confirmed it.”

  “As I was saying,” Bhudman went on, “the knowledge of Kushma Ulaur has not come to us for no reason. We have received the secret name of Ulaur, and if Daladham is right, the final pages of the book contain the rite which will move him to smite the earth again. We have no other way to destroy She Who Devours.”

  “There must be another way,” Navran said. He pushed himself away from the table and rose to pace. Daladham picked up his teacup and ran his nail over the lid, hoping to dispel some of the energy. “Read….” Navran said. " Daladham, read the portion from the book."

  “I will not read the ritual aloud.”

  “No, not that. Read the portion that describes the effects of Ulaur’s destruction of the serpent.”

  “Ah.” Daladham reached and found the thikratta book where it lay in its case beside the table. The bamboo reed which marked his place was still there. Back a few pages. He had grown deft enough with the script and the archaic grammar that he was able to translate it into the common speech as he read. “And when his lance struck the earth, the whole world shook with a great earthquake, and the mountains were cast down and new mountains rose up, and nine tenths of the population of the world was killed by the earthquake and the upheaval of the earth. Then clouds of smoke rose up from the earth and blotted out the sun, and the mountains belched fire, and nine tenths of the remnant of the earth was consumed by fire or by smoke. And the seas were moved from their places, and the rivers dried up, and new rivers poured out of the dry places and the stones, and nine tenths of the remnant of the earth was destroyed by the movement of the waters.”

  “It is quite similar to the Law,” Bhudman said softly.

  “The dhorsha accounts have corresponding passages, as well,” Daladham said.

  “Yes,” Navran said. “So if we rouse Kushma Ulaur to strike the serpent we will perish. Us and nearly every other creature on the face of the earth.”

  “Burn the fields, scatter the seed,” Srithi hissed. “Weep for your salvation and bless the hour of your death.”

  “I am not going to destroy the land I am trying to save.”

  “My lord and king,” Daladham said, “Do we have any choice? We have Srithi’s word as a prophetess.”

  “I do not care for Srithi’s word,” the king said. “I care for the people of Amur, and I am not going to doom them.”

  “They are already doomed,” Srithi said.

  “No,” Navran said. He whirled and pointed at Daladham and Bhudman. “
I tasked you with finding the secrets of the thikratta book to save Amur, not with destroying the last of it. We may scald the Devoured with the name of Kushma Ulaur, and we may defend Patakshar from them. In time, we may drive back the Mouth of the Devourer. The Devoured are not infinite. Cut off enough of their hands, and they can no longer hurt us.”

  “You speak fantasies,” Daladham said. “My lord and king.”

  “No.” Navran pounded his fist against the table, making their clay cups rattle. “I am not going to ruin Amur.”

  For a moment he stared at Daladham and Srithi with a narrow, burning glare. Srithi let out a long sigh and looked down.

  “I concur,” Bhudman said. “We have not received any sign from Ulaur that we should do this. There is still hope for us here. We have weapons which wound the Devoured, even if they don’t kill them—”

  “Strike now and you may save many,” Srithi said abruptly. “Strike later and you may save a few.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As of yet,” Srithi said, “She Who Devours is not yet fully born.”

  “Not yet born?” He looked at her in horror. “What do you call this affliction if the serpent is not yet born?”

  Bhudman spoke softly. “In those days the serpent clothed herself in a body of flesh…. We have seen great afflictions, but She Who Devours herself has not yet appeared.”

  “Isn’t the Mouth of the Devourer her vessel of flesh?”

  “The Mouth of the Devourer is a mouth,” Bhudman said. “There may be a greater horror yet to come.”

  “Greater.” Navran swore. He paced. “But the world will be ruined.”

  “If Ulaur strikes now, the ruin will be less than it would be,” Srithi said. “Prevent She Who Devours from being clothed in flesh, and we end her with a lesser blow than would be otherwise required.”

  Navran shook. “Still, no. What does it gain me to save foreign lands if my own kingdom passes away into dust?”

  “The seed may find purchase in ready soil. And in the last resort…” Srithi fell quiet for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper, and she trembled. “We speak of dark things. Kushma Ulaur will not suffer the whole world to be consumed by She Who Devours. If the Heirs of Manjur fail in the duty which Ulaur has given to them, then he will find another to be his priest of destruction. But woe to the Heirs and to all the people of the world if it comes to that.”

  For a moment she stared at Navran. Then she slipped around the table and out of the room.

  Daladham watched her go. Navran slowly lowered himself onto the cushion across from Bhudman. His hand closed around the cup of tea in front of him, and he stared into its depths.

  “I will speak to Bidhra-dar,” he said softly. “There is… we will hold out. Tell me if you have any other idea—”

  “I have given you my idea,” Daladham said, his heart equal parts weariness and anger.

  “Anything else. Anything but that.”

  He looked up and stared at Daladham and Bhudman. He suddenly seemed very sad and very tired. Daladham felt a surge of pity for him.

  “Anything but that,” he whispered again.

  Mandhi

  “Mandhi,” Kest whispered. “You should see this.”

  Mandhi sat on a cushion in the corner of her room, their prison, speaking to Aryaji. Vapathi sat by herself in the far corner, staring quietly into the darkness. Kest motioned Mandhi to the window.

  The line of Devoured below their window was still there, but Kest ignored them and pointed out over the city to the east, beyond the walls.

  “Do you see it?” he asked.

  At first she didn’t know what he was pointing at. A horizon empty of clouds, shadows growing long in the afternoon, empty fields and shriveled trees scarred with fires.

  “Smoke,” Kest said. He pointed to the place with a subtle gesture, so the Devoured below wouldn’t see.

  She spotted it. “That’s not a surprise,” she said. “The Devoured set fires in the villages all the time.”

  “That is not a burning village. It’s a single column of smoke in a copse of trees. Almost hidden, but not quite”

  Mandhi paused. She saw what he meant. The fires that the Devoured set burned recklessly. Wide swathes of dry forests and abandoned fields converted to ash. “What do you think it is?”

  Kest stepped back from the window and spoke softly. “I think it’s someone looking for us.”

  “Kest, it could be any number of things.”

  “No, it couldn’t. Watch.”

  The smoke drifted lazily into the air. Suddenly, the smoke at the base stopped rising, cut off from it’s source for three breaths, then it began again.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a signal,” Kest said. “When we needed to call the shepherds down from the high pastures in the Dramab, we’d light a fire in the clan lodge and use a hide to make gaps in the smoke. Could see it for miles. That’s obviously what this is.”

  “Would they really have been that stupid?” She felt herself getting angry at the thought of the Uluriya and the os Dramab risking themselves for the four of them. Jhumitu was safe with Hrenge, and those who had been captured could fend for themselves.

  “You came all the way to Kalignas in order to rescue your child.”

  “That was my only son, and the future Heir of Manjur. We don’t have anyone’s child with us.”

  “What about Aryaji?”

  Mandhi paused. “Nakhur is her uncle, not her father,” she said slowly, but that seemed like a feeble reason. Nakhur certainly treated her like a daughter. “You don’t think Nakhur would really have come all this way….”

  Kest snickered. “I left those voles for a reason.”

  Mandhi drummed her finger on the railing of the window. “Well, what then? They’ll never get to the House of the Ruin safely. And we can’t get out to them.”

  “Can’t we?” Kest gave her a clever smile. “You said you know dozens of ways out.”

  “I do,” Mandhi said with disappointment. “But they have the whole house surrounded by the Devoured. My escape routes assume not every stone outside the walls is being watched.”

  “Perhaps I can help you with a plan.” He put a hand on Mandhi’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I’ve been watching. Didn’t want to move until we had to. Or until we had a reason to try and get away.”

  “And what did you see?”

  He pointed to the rear of the house, at the narrow alley with a gutter running through the middle of it which ran between the broad stone-fenced estates of this district. “They are watching the front of the house and the street between this estate and the next. But the rear is unguarded.”

  “That doesn’t help,” Mandhi hissed. “There are men right beneath our window, and if we climb down and try to get to the rear alley they’ll see us immediately.”

  “I know,” Kest said. “But this is where I depend on you.”

  “I don’t know how to get past them any better than you, Kest.”

  “But you know the house.”

  He looked at her with a cold, imploring stare. She stepped back from the window, sat herself on the ground, and rested her chin in her hand. “Ah.”

  “Do you—” Kest began.

  Mandhi raised a finger. “I have one idea. It will probably fail.”

  “This is our only chance.”

  She sighed and crossed the room to where Aryaji and Vapathi were waiting. Aryaji seemed to be asleep under a thin cotton sheet, but Vapathi sat against the stone wall with her eyes open, staring vacantly. She had been watching Kest and Mandhi silently.

  Mandhi crouched beside her. “I need you to try to kill yourself.”

  Vapathi gave a hollow, black laugh. “Finally tired of me?”

  “Not at all,” Mandhi said, smiling grimly. “But I need the attention of the Empress of the Devoured, and I need her to be frightened. Your brother wants you alive, right?”

  “I suppose.”

 
; “Then pretend. Will you trust me?”

  Her eyebrows twitched at Mandhi’s last words. She took a deep breath. Then with a violent jerk of movement she tore away the sheet that was covering Aryaji and twisted it into a cable. She wrapped the fabric around her neck and squeezed.

  Mandhi screamed. She scrambled to the door and shouted, “Vapathi! The Queen of Slaves! She’s strangling herself!”

  The Devoured below in the courtyard stared up at her for a moment, then they scurried into action. Mandhi glanced back and saw Vapathi kicking, her face growing dark for lack of blood. Kest squirmed with her—enough to look like he was trying, but not enough to actually disarm her. Aryaji screamed and screamed.

  Three Devoured charged down the passage toward Mandhi’s chamber. In a moment they shoved Mandhi aside and descended upon Vapathi. She kicked and struggled for a moment, her voice tapering off into a choked scream. Kest cried out. Mandhi crawled forward on her hands and knees and found herself in the middle of a huddle of Devoured, pinning Vapathi down by her limbs.

  Vapathi kicked and spat. “Let me go,” she shouted. “Let me die!”

  She pretends so very well. Mandhi wondered how close this behavior came to her true desire.

  “Don’t let her go,” she said. “We have to keep her safe. The Empress said—”

  “We can watch her,” the Devoured man said.

  “No,” Mandhi said, “still not safe. She could throw herself out the window. She could—move us to another room! Where there are no sheets and no windows.”

  The Devoured man grumbled. “I don’t know any such room.”

  “There is a storeroom,” Mandhi said. “Near the kitchens, in the back of the house. No windows, only one door. A better prison than this one, please. I don’t want to have to be watching her constantly—”

  “Spoiled brat,” Vapathi spat. “Uluriya bitch. Just let me die with the rest—”

  Kest calmly put his hand over Vapathi’s mouth. She jerked away and looked at him with wild, furious eyes.