Fire of Ages (The Powers of Amur Book 6)

by J. S. Bangs

  Vapathi’s eyes opened.

  The sky was bursting with stars. She had never seen such stars before—brilliant sprays of light that saturated the sky, starlight as bright as the dawn, bands of violet and green, yellows like ripe fields of rice, blues as deep as the sea. There was a noise that surrounded her, sweet and intoxicating. A hum, a chant, a hymn, a lullaby. The sound of a happiness she had never known but always remembered. The singing of the stars.

  She sat up. Around her she saw the dark shapes of the people she had laid down with: Kest, Glanod, Nakhur. Aryaji was gone. So was Mandhi. But off to the west there was a light, like a fire receding through the forest. She followed it.

  Through the forest, on the crooked village paths. In a few moments she emerged onto the plain surrounding Virnas, and in few more steps she crossed the field and entered through the gate.

  There were no Devoured in the city, no people at all as far as Vapathi could see. The stars grew brighter as she passed beneath the gate. The paths through the city’s streets were numerous, but her feet knew which way to go. The light ahead was not a torch, but a bonfire of sorts. A pillar of light rose from the place where it burned. The air was full of a sweet-smelling smoke.

  Here was the place: the House of the Ruin, where she had been captive with Mandhi and the others. Where she had spoken to Kirshta. The door was open, and light came from within.

  Through the door and into the courtyard. A stairway was open at the end of the courtyard, descending to the ancient altar. Not a narrow, soot-blackened tunnel, but wide steps of clean white stone, going down to the place that was old and holy. The roof of white stone closed over her, but it did not reduce the light of the stars. The heavens burned through the stone, purified, shining like jewels set into the marbled ceiling.

  A fire burned at the base of the stairs. Three women sat around the fire.

  When Vapathi reached the bottom step she saw Aryaji and Mandhi with a third woman Vapathi had never seen before. The third woman looked at Vapathi with alarm.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “How did you get here?”

  “I am Vapathi. I don’t know why I’m here.”

  The woman looked at Aryaji. “Did you call for her?”

  “No,” Aryaji said, “but she must have come for a reason. You found me in my dream, and we called for Mandhi together. If she has been called as well….”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “She is Vapathi,” Aryaji said. “She already told you.”

  “And why is she here?”

  “She travels with us. She is the sister of the Mouth of the Devourer.”

  The third woman gasped. She looked at Vapathi suspiciously for a moment, then her suspicion melted. “I see she is not here to betray us.”

  “She is here to save her brother, I think,” Mandhi said. She raised her hand to Vapathi. Manjur’s iron ring blazed on her finger, and Vapathi realized the pillar of light she had seen outside emanated from Mandhi’s ring. It was not the fire that gave off the light around them, but the burning band of iron, yet it caused Mandhi no pain. “Isn’t that right?”

  They all looked at Vapathi. Vapathi stammered in bewilderment. Where was this place? She was aware, dimly, that she couldn’t possibly have reached Virnas this quickly, and the House of the Ruin had not looked like this when she was there. But Mandhi’s words rang like a copper bell. “I’m here to save my brother,” she said at last. “If he can be saved.”

  “Then sit down,” the unknown woman said. “My name is Srithi. I called Aryaji into this dream, and Aryaji called for Mandhi, and you have come as well, by the will of the Powers. You are welcome here.”

  Vapathi took a seat around the fire at Srithi’s gesture. The heat of the fire and the ring made her face warm, and it smelled like a gentle incense.

  “Now continue,” Aryaji said to Srithi. “You said you had to warn us.”

  Srithi nodded, her face serious and serene. “I bring a warning and a blessing. She Who Devours will be destroyed, but Amur will perish with her. You must leave. You must find another place.”

  “We had planned on leaving,” Mandhi said. “Glanod said the fleet of Davrakhanda is waiting to sail. We want to return to Kalignas.”

  “Then you’re ready,” Srithi said in relief. “Sail as soon as possible—”

  “Wait,” Mandhi said, raising her hand with its burning ring. “We still have to reach the sea. We’re camped a day outside of Virnas now, and we have to get to Uskhanda.”

  “Uskhanda,” Srithi said with disappointment. “That’s quite a ways from Virnas.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  Srithi’s face fell. “Three days. At moonrise on the day of the full moon Navran-dar, Bhudman, and Daladham-dhu will perform the sacrifice.”

  Mandhi looked alarmed. “What sacrifice? What are Navran-dar and Bhudman doing?”

  Srithi hesitated a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t explain it all. We’ve discovered the secret rite of Ulaur, which Manjur performed on the day Ulaur smote the serpent, a rite which only the Heir of Manjur may perform. And when he does, the lance of heaven which pierced the serpent in the days of Manjur will strike the earth again. We will do it before She Who Devours takes flesh, to save a greater remnant than was saved the last time the serpent rose. Amur will be burned—”

  “—but the seed will be scattered,” Aryaji said. “And so we must fly.”

  “You understand,” Srithi said. She gave a bittersweet smile. “Sail away, and your seed might grow in another place.”

  “There’s is a problem,” Vapathi said. She felt timid and cautious speaking with these other women, but she wouldn’t help them by keeping silent. “My brother prepares to give flesh to She Who Devours even now.”

  Srithi’s eyes grew wide. “Is that true?” she asked.

  “We saw them,” Aryaji said. “Uluriya captives, and the altar prepared to slay them.”

  “The blood of hundreds,” Mandhi said bitterly. “He’s going to sacrifice every living human he finds to give flesh to the serpent.”

  “Has he begun?”

  “He said he would finish at the full moon,” Mandhi said.

  “The same day that Navran-dar will perform the sacrifice.”

  For a moment all four of them were silent. Grim glances passed from face to face. The yellow firelight mingled with the silver and violet tones of the stars burning above, the brilliant light seeming suddenly ominous.

  “I could delay him,” Vapathi said. “To give Navran-dar time to finish.”

  The other three looked at her with surprise. Her hands shook, and she felt their gazes like knives on her skin.

  “How?” Aryaji asked.

  “I could return to Virnas. Release the Uluriya. Fight my way into the Ruin.”

  “And the rest of us would flee to Uskhanda?” Mandhi said.

  Aryaji shook her head. “By yourself, there’s nothing you could do.”

  Vapathi cast her gaze down. “I could try. Maybe the Devoured will still obey me.”

  “For you to try, by yourself, would be throwing your life away. There are thousands of Devoured, and the Empress, and your brother himself.”

  “Even if all six of us went,” Mandhi said, “we could hardly do anything against the hordes of Devoured. Three of us are women, and we have no weapons—”

  “Wait,” Srithi said, lifting her head. “Aryaji, didn’t you say your uncle had come?”

  “Yes,” Aryaji answered.

  “Then you have a better weapon than any other you would find in Amur. You have the tincture of blood and milk.”

  “What?” Mandhi said.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Vapathi said timidly.

  Srithi took a deep breath. She rested her hands on the cold ground in front of her and looked at Vapathi. “The tincture of blood and milk is the sacred drink which we make from the sacrifice of the ram. It is holy thing by which the Uluriya are sanctified. And it is a weapon against th
e Devoured.”

  “How?”

  “Sprinkle it on them. They flee. Not forever—it doesn’t kill them, but it causes them some pain. It has kept the Devoured at bay while we’ve been under siege here in Patakshar.”

  Mandhi looked disturbed. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “When we approached the Amsadhu,” Vapathi said, “my brother killed the Uluriya he found. He hated them, more than he hated anything else. The others he would turn into Devoured, but the Uluriya he always destroyed.”

  “He was afraid,” Aryaji said. Her eyes gleamed in the light of the blazing fire, and she looked at Vapathi with a smile.

  “And you think—” Mandhi began.

  “I’ll do it,” Vapathi said. “If you have this weapon and give it to me, I’ll take it into Virnas by myself and use it drive away the Devoured. And if I can reach my brother, I’ll use it against him.”

  “Not by yourself,” Aryaji said. “We will all go with you. And we will give the cup to Kirshta to drink.”

  When she said the words the air chilled for a moment, and the crackling of the fire stilled. A dense, pregnant expectancy hung among them, and Vapathi’s gaze darted from Srithi to Aryaji to Mandhi.

  “It is holy,” Mandhi said in a whisper. “We do not give holy things to the cursed.”

  “It is a weapon of purity,” Aryaji said. “We use it to purify that which has been defiled.”

  Mandhi bowed her head. “So if we give it to the Mouth of the Devourer to drink, it will deliver him?”

  “It won’t destroy She Who Devours,” Srithi cautioned. “Only the lance of heaven will do that.”

  Vapathi nodded. “But it will give Navran-dar the time he needs.”

  “The sacrifice must happen on the full moon,” Srithi said, “the fourth night after this. That’s all the time you’ll have.”

  “You know you won’t save him,” Aryaji said. “Even if we succeed, we’ll only live long enough to see Ulaur’s spear.”

  Vapathi laughed. “I gave up on saving my brother months ago. The best gift I can give him is the peace of death.”

  For a moment all four of them watched the fire in silence. The humming of the stars overhead seemed to dim.

  Srithi rose and walked around the circle to Vapathi. She took Vapathi’s hand and kissed the top of her head. “You do a great thing, Vapathi. Greater, because no one will remember you for it. When the story of this age is written, someone may recall that the Heir of Manjur called down the lance of heaven to destroy the serpent. No one will tell the tale of a woman who went bearing the sacred drink to save her brother.”

  Vapathi’s heart twisted. She closed her eyes, and her lids burned with tears.

  “Then the stars upon you,” Srithi said. “Nonetheless, I will remember you. And Mandhi….”

  She let go of Vapathi’s hand and pulled Mandhi into an embrace. Tears on Mandhi’s face glittered in the firelight, as bright as the rainbow-hued stars overhead.

  “I’ll miss you,” Mandhi said.

  “I’ll miss you too, Mandhi,” said the other. She pulled away from Mandhi’s embrace and kissed her on the cheeks. Mandhi kissed Srithi back.

  “I think it’s time to wake up,” Aryaji said. “We don’t have much longer.”

  Then, to Vapathi’s surprise, Mandhi walked over and pulled her to her feet. “Stand with us,” Mandhi said. “You of all people deserve to stand.”

  Mandhi and Aryaji clasped Vapathi’s hands. The light of the stars overhead grew stronger, their colors deeper, their singing louder. As they burned, Srithi turned and began to walk up the stairs. She waved goodbye to Mandhi again. The fire blazed, and the stars dimmed.

  Vapathi was on the ground. She opened her eyes. The blaze of the fire was the cool light of dawn, and the stars overhead were dim pinpricks in a hazy sky. But Mandhi and Aryaji were next to her, and their hands clasped hers.

  Aryaji’s eyes opened. She sat up, and gave Vapathi a shy smile. A moment later Mandhi sat up as well.

  The three of them looked at the campsite. Kest had not yet stirred, and Nakhur crouched near the fire. Glanod rummaged through the brush at the edge of the camp.

  “Well,” Mandhi said, “I guess we have to tell them.”

  Mandhi

  The men looked at Mandhi with varying expressions of dismay and disbelief. Kest paced to Mandhi’s left. Nakhur stood across from her with his arms folded over his chest. Glanod sat on a tree trunk and pulled strips of bark off of it.

  “We just got out of Virnas,” Kest said, rumbling a few feet away from Mandhi. “The Devoured are still looking for us. And you want us to return?”

  “If we don’t, our escape will be for nothing,” Aryaji said calmly. She sat on a bed of dry palm leaves. She watched her uncle Nakhur with calm equanimity. Vapathi sat behind her, her head bowed and her hands covering her face.

  “I understand,” Nakhur said. He sighed heavily. “She Who Devours will take flesh. I have read the Law.”

  “But if we go back,” Kest said angrily, “what are we going to do? Drive out thousands of the Devoured with our bare hands?”

  “Your hands seem up to the task,” Mandhi said. “I saw you fighting yesterday.”

  Kest shook his head. “Flattery doesn’t get us anywhere, Mandhi.”

  “It wasn’t really flattery,” Mandhi said. “Maybe a little exaggeration. But as Srithi said, we will have a weapon. The tincture of ram’s blood.”

  “I heard that part,” Nakhur muttered. He wet his lips and looked into the west, toward Virnas, hidden from them by the forest and the morning haze. “The blessing of Ulaur drives them back.”

  “But it doesn’t kill them,” Glanod said. He rose from where he had been sitting atop a log and brushed the fibers of shredded bark from his hands. “The weapon might not help us as much as you think.”

  “Your arguments are useless,” Aryaji said. “Say we run to Uskhanda. If She Who Devours takes flesh before Navran-dar strikes her, then she will rise and nothing will save us from her. Or else Navran-dar will tell Ulaur to strike the earth with enough force to destroy her even when enfleshed, in which case we will perish in the blast—as will most of the rest of the earth. There is no other choice.”

  Kest stopped his pacing. He came to stand next to Nakhur, looking into the west at the unseen city of Virnas.

  “And where will we find a ram?” Nakhur said softly. “I have to imagine they’ve all been eaten or killed.”

  Vapathi spoke up for the first time. “My brother has food for his prisoners. Maybe there’s a ram somewhere among them.”

  “There’s no way to know that without sneaking into the city,” Glanod said. “And then we might not find anything.”

  “And remember,” Nakhur said, “the sacrifice itself takes several hours. Do you imagine I can do it in the middle of the occupied city without anyone finding us?”

  “Chances are small,” Vapathi said. Her voice was flat and despairing.

  “A small chance is better than no chance,” Aryaji said. She put her hand on Vapathi’s cheek. They stood there for a moment, then Vapathi lifted her own hand and clasped Aryaji’s.

  Nakhur was quiet for a long time, looking away to the hazy horizon in the west. His brow crumbled into a frown. He bowed his head and rubbed his temples.

  “I would speak to my niece and to Glanod,” he said.

  Aryaji and Glanod rose. Mandhi took to her feet, but Nakhur raised a finger and waved Mandhi away. “You and Kest stay here. Please.”

  Mandhi hesitated, then decided this was no time to argue with the saghada. “Fine.”

  She watched them retreat down a footpath into the forest and out of sight. Kest stood with his arms crossed and his foot stamping at the edge of the banked fire. He kicked a stone into the ashes.

  “We should go to Virnas,” he said. “I don’t know why they’re talking without us. I would convince them—”

  “I’m going back no matter what,” Vapathi said, her voice flat and empty of emoti
on. “Even if I have nothing to do except give myself to him and the Empress, I’m still going.”

  “That won’t happen,” Mandhi said. She felt oddly calm. Struggle and argument had come to an end; it was time for action, and whether they lived or died was out of their hands. She touched Kest’s forearm, and he clasped her hand.

  Nakhur, Glanod, and Aryaji returned from the forest. The two men took up positions across from Kest and Mandhi and crossed their arms.

  “We have decided,” Glanod said. “We are going to Virnas.”

  “That’s what I wanted,” Kest said. “I don’t know why you needed to—”

  Glanod cleared his throat. He glanced at Nakhur on Mandhi’s left, who nodded. “But you and Mandhi are going to Uskhanda.”

  Kest laughed. “What are you talking about? Didn’t we just agree that we are going to Virnas?”

  “Yes, we are. Me and Nakhur and Aryaji and Vapathi. But you and Mandhi are returning.”

  Kest let go of Mandhi’s hand and turned to face his cousin. He leaned in close, speaking with a stony voice. “Why? I volunteer to defeat She Who Devours as much as you do.”

  “Because,” Glanod said firmly, “the os Dramab need you.”

  “How can you—”

  “Think,” Nakhur said. “I must stay, because only I can perform the sacrifice. Vapathi wishes to give her brother peace. And we’ll need Glanod to capture the ram—”

  “I can help with that—” Kest began.

  “But we don’t need you,” Nakhur said. “Aryaji should go back with you as well.”

  “You need me,” Aryaji said bluntly. “Trust me.”

  Nakhur gave his niece a long, grave stare, then he nodded. “But you two… you should go back.”

  “I don’t want—” Kest started again.

  Mandhi put her hand on his arm. “Listen,” she said.

  He closed his mouth and turned to face her. His eyes were stormy and fierce, his lips pressed together in a white line. His hands turned into fists.

  “I think they’re right,” she said.

  “I am not a coward to turn away from this duty.”

  “Who called you a coward? You’re patriarch of the os Dramab and the father of the Heir of Manjur. Hrenge and Jhumitu are waiting for us in Uskhanda. And I have Manjur’s ring on my finger. I must return to give Jhumitu his inheritance.”