Heir of Iron (The Powers of Amur Book 1)

by J. S. Bangs

  A stone tower hulked over the road, an outpost of the militia of Virnas. As they came within sight of it, a ram’s horn blew from its crown, and a few minutes later an answer sounded as a faint echo from the walls of Virnas. But no one sallied out from the tower, and they passed beneath it unharmed. Mandhi glanced up and saw the militiamen as silhouettes under the covered roof, watching them with their hands gripping the hafts of their spears.

  “What does the horn mean?” Navran whispered to her.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “We’ll find out.”

  It didn’t take long. Before they had walked beyond the sight of the tower a company of the Virnas militia issued from the north gate and marched towards them on the road.

  As soon as the foremost of the militia glimpsed, he called out, “Halt, Uluriya! Thudra-dar of Virnas has need of you.”

  Paidacha, Sumi, and their daughters walked a few paces ahead of Mandhi and Navran. They stopped in the road and glanced back at Mandhi and Navran. Paidacha raised his hand in a silent question.

  “I don’t know,” Mandhi said.

  “We go to them,” Navran said.

  “Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

  Navran smiled. “Hardly. But can we get past them to Virnas? Maybe Thudra-dar will be our ally.”

  They stood beside Paidacha and his family. The militia ahead of them advanced quickly. Mandhi glanced backwards and saw with a lurch of terror that the garrison of the tower had moved onto the road behind them and was closing the gap.

  “We should run,” she said so that everyone in their group could hear. “We scatter into the fields. They won’t find us.”

  “No,” Navran said. “I’m done running.”

  “They’ll capture us! We don’t know what they plan on doing.”

  “I’ve been captured before.” He shrugged and looked to the north. A fool, Mandhi thought. Where did he gather this insane confidence? Or perhaps he was so terrified of the threat of Ruyam and the Red Men that he disregarded every other danger. She tensed and nearly ran away on her own, but it was already too late. The militia surrounded them with a hedge of bronze spearheads, and their captain stepped forward to examine them.

  “Thudra-dar of Virnas has given us orders to capture all Uluriya coming to the city from the north,” the captain said. “You will be escorted directly to his palace.”

  “I hope he has a big palace,” Navran said. “Because there are another two thousand following behind us.”

  The captain snickered. “Not my problem. You were the first, and you’ll come to Thudra-dar.” He glanced up the road at the following line, which was now stuttering and halting at the sight of the soldiers on the road. “Are they all coming into the city?”

  “We hope so,” Mandhi said. “We would beg the sufferance of Thudra-dar—”

  “Leave it alone,” the captain said. “If you have things to say, tell it to the king himself when you get to him.”

  They marched Mandhi, Navran, and Paidacha’s family together towards Virnas with quick, military steps.

  Paidacha sidled up next to Mandhi carrying little Kalishni. “Are we in danger?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Paidacha’s shoulders slumped. “Ulaur save us. The Heir protect us.”

  Mandhi stifled a laugh. Navran wouldn’t protect anybody. He seemed mostly determined to march them into the maw of danger.

  As they ascended the stony hill to the city wall, Mandhi craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the tents in the valley. The soldiers to her left blocked the way and gave her no time to stop and stare, but she caught one glance of a green flag with a sea eagle blazoned on it. Sadja?

  But if Sadja were here, then he knew Navran was coming, which probably meant that Thudra knew as well. Did they already know what had transpired in Jaitha? And had Thudra captured them as friend or foe? Her heart raced. Sadja’s presence meant their chances of passing as innocent Uluriya commoners had vanished.

  They passed beneath the grim arch of the city’s gates and into the crowded streets. Mandhi felt a pang of homesickness upon reaching familiar streets again. There was an Uluriya silversmith, and there the weaver where she and Srithi shopped. They shot along the north street towards the palace, a dark green bulk built into the north wall of the city. The domes and leaf-shaped crenellations of the palace walls rose above the mud-brick homes, and the black-painted gates swallowed them.

  The interior of the palace was cool, with green marble underfoot and the symbols of Chaludra, Am, and Ashti carved into the walls. The sickle emblem of Thudra’s house was blazoned on banners that hung over the doors. Navran glanced at the stonework and the images painted on the walls with an expression of amused detachment.

  The smugness irritated her. “Don’t smile like a half-wit,” she hissed.

  “I was just thinking,” he said," that a year ago the palace of Virnas would have been the most beautiful and terrifying place on the earth for me. But now that I’ve lived in the Ushpanditya…." He shook his head.

  A set of silver-inlaid inner doors parted and admitted them to the throne room. It was a modest chamber, only a little larger than Mandhi’s bed-chamber at home, with padded cushions along the walls and a raised dais at the far end with a mahogany chair atop it. A few courtiers sat on the cushions or stood near the walls, while on the dais stood a young man with a thin mustache and a narrow, crooked nose, talking to a pair of courtiers in blue silks. The chatter around the chamber raised a notch in pitch as they entered the room. The militia leader rushed forward and bowed to the man standing on the dais, who raised his hand and quieted the courtiers talking to him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Thudra-dar, your will has been carried out,” the militia captain said.

  “And these are the Uluriya approaching from Jaitha?” He glanced across their little group with an expression of severity and distaste.

  “They are. They came at the head of a great column, as predicted.”

  Thudra’s lips pursed and he scratched at the corner of his mustache. “So they did. You and yours are dismissed.” He pointed to the militia captain and the blue-clad courtiers which had been supplicating him a moment earlier. “My personal guard will take the door.”

  The captain bowed and walked away, as did the men in blue with disappointed expressions on their faces. The doors closed behind them, shutting with a sound of finality that made Mandhi wince. Thudra stepped off the dais and raked his gaze across them, holding his nose aloft and narrowing his eyes with an expression of anger.

  “Which one of you is the Heir of Manjur?” he said after a moment.

  Mandhi suppressed her own gasp, and she heard Paidacha mince an oath. It must be a lucky guess. There was no way for him to know.

  “The Heir is not among us,” she said quickly, before any of the others could say something rasher.

  He paced around their group until he stood a foot away from Mandhi, where his gaze coldly evaluated her face and clothing. “A woman answers. Interesting. And what’s your name?”

  Could she use her real name? Could he have discovered that Cauratha was the Heir? “Mandhi daughter of Ghauna Aptu,” she said before she had time to rethink her lie.

  “Do you speak for this little band of yours that I’ve captured?”

  She hesitated just a moment. “Yes.”

  Thudra pointed at Navran and Paidacha. “What about them?”

  “She can speak for me,” Navran said. Paidacha just nodded.

  “Interesting that they defer to you. I was led to believe that the Heir was a man, but perhaps I should reconsider. Or perhaps something else is going on here.”

  She cleared her throat and bowed her head, then answered in a plaintive voice just at the edge of tears. Feminine fragility was always a good way to wreck a man. “Thudra-dar, why have you detained us? We are fleeing from the burning of Jaitha, coming to the nearest city where our kind is numerous. The Heir is not with us, nor do we know where
he is. And what quarrel have you with the Heir?”

  “What quarrel have I?” Thudra laughed. “What quarrel could I possibly have with a man who claims to be the rightful ruler of Virnas, and who commands the loyalty of a cult whose members are a third of my city? Especially when the city of Jaitha was burnt not many days ago for refusing to yield up these Uluriya.”

  “Ruyam,” Navran whispered.

  “Yes, Ruyam,” Thudra said. He sneered at Navran. “The news of the standoff reached me quickly, and the news of the city’s burning just before you arrived. Now I have no desire to join the king of Jaitha in resistance to the mad thikratta, and when he gets here with the imperial guard I intend to comply with his orders. I’ll either give him the Heir, or I’ll give him every Uluriya male in the city.”

  He gave Mandhi a steely glance then looked over Navran and Paidacha with contempt. “So what shall I tell Ruyam when he gets here? That I have one man intact, or that I turned the city into an abattoir looking for him? He’s not many days behind you, I suspect. Choose quickly.”

  “My lord and king,” Mandhi said, “what makes you assume that the Heir is among us? We know nothing of him.”

  Thudra looked at her and smirked. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  The thought resounded like a bolt of lightning in her mind: Sadja told him. Sadja was here in Virnas, she had seen his tents, and his farsight would have revealed the Heir’s approach—and he had betrayed them.

  “We know nothing,” Mandhi repeated.

  “In that case,” Thudra said with a grim smile, “I have a cell in the prison for all of you. You will remain there until I have an answer, and the rest of the Uluriya on the road will remain outside the city gates. I’m sure Ruyam will be kind to them when he gets here.”

  * * *

  The cell was a lightless room, four paces wide on each side, with a barred door and the stench of feces. “Light of Ulaur,” Mandhi swore, “I don’t even want to think of the debt of purity I’ll incur after we get out of here.”

  Navran leaned against the stone wall by the door and watched the little yellow square on the far wall, where the light from the entrance fell against the gray stones. Shadows crossed through the light, and the distant mutter of voices could be heard. “I’ve been in worse,” he said.

  She shuddered. Navran’s stories suddenly took on a revolting reality. Her skin crawled.

  “You assume,” Paidacha’s voice rose from the rear of the chamber, where the shadows nearly swallowed him and his family entire. “You assume that we are getting out of here.”

  “Of course we’re getting out,” Mandhi said. “Veshta, at least, will realize that we’ve come when he hears that all the Uluriya of Jaitha are at the gates, and he’ll petition Thudra for our release.”

  “You’re so sure,” Paidacha said with an air of despair. “How?”

  “Quiet, Paidacha,” said Sumi. “You’re upsetting Kalishni.”

  She would be more upset if she knew I was lying, Mandhi thought. Veshta might realize they had come and were imprisoned by Thudra, but he might not. And they might not have time before Ruyam came. “Sadja-dar,” she muttered.

  “What?” Navran said.

  “Sadja-dar of Davrakhanda,” she said a little more loudly. “I told you about him.”

  Navran nodded. “What about him?”

  “He’s here. They were his tents outside the city. He told Thudra we were coming, which is why we’re here.”

  Navran closed his eyes and brushed his chin. “Why would he do that? Didn’t he want to be an ally?”

  She snorted. “Clearly he changed his mind.”

  Navran grunted. He stayed watching through the bars over the door for a few more moments, then retreated into the darkness at the back of the room and spoke to Paidacha in low tones. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes, pattering below a volume at which she might hear it, until Navran’s steps approached her, and he emerged into the dim gloom at the front of the cell.

  He pounded on the grate and shouted, “I am here! Tell Thudra that the Heir will speak to him!”

  There was a flurry of motion up the stairs from them. Mandhi grabbed Navran’s arm and hissed, “What are you doing?”

  “Letting Paidacha and his family escape,” he said. Then he shouted, “Bring Thudra to me! I will speak to none but the king of Virnas!”

  The jailer appeared with an oil lamp at the top of the stairs and glanced down at Navran with a scowl. “Are you lying? It’s both of our hides if you are.”

  Navran pulled the iron ring from where it dangled on a chain and held it up in the light. “This is Manjur’s ring.” The jailer approached with his lamp, but Navran stepped back into the darkness and hid it beneath his shirt. “No, you don’t get to see it. Do you think I dangle Manjur’s ring in the air for common jailers? Bring me the king of Virnas.”

  The jailer curled his lips together and squinted at them, and nodded. “Fine.” He disappeared up the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” Mandhi shouted. Her blood roared in her ears, and her saliva seemed to boil in her mouth. “You’re giving yourself up to him?”

  “I’m not giving anyone up,” Navran said calmly.

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  Navran raised his hand and backed away quietly. “I have an idea.”

  “Care to tell me what it is?”

  “Not yet.”

  She spun and turned to the wall, leaning her forehead against the stone. She tasted bile on her tongue. Her fingers twitched with fury and despair.

  “Trust me,” Navran said.

  “Never,” she whispered. He didn’t hear.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened and Thudra came, flanked on either side by soldiers and retainers. “So the Heir wants to out himself and speak to me now?”

  Navran walked to the front of the cell and looked Thudra in the eye without bowing. He pulled the ring from beneath his shirt. “I am the Heir. If you want me, you may have me. But you’ll let Paidacha, Sumi, and Kalishni go. And the Uluriya on the road will be allowed into the city.”

  “How noble of you to trade yourself for them.” Thudra sneered. He leaned forward and examined the ring that Navran dangled before him. “Too dim to see it here. And what if this is a trick?” He pointed to Paidacha. “What if that one is the Heir, and you’re giving yourself up for him?”

  “Perhaps,” Navran said. “You should take his daughter as a surety. Keep myself, Mandhi, and Kalishni in your custody, but let Paidacha and Sumi go, and bring my people into the city where they will be safe.”

  Mandhi drew in her breath. She looked back to Paidacha, but his face, and his daughter’s, were hidden in the darkness.

  Thudra laughed. “I should be suspicious of such a clever offer. But perhaps you were counting on me being suspicious of your cleverness.”

  Navran looked at him blankly. “I am not clever.”

  “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.” He folded his arms across his chest then nodded. “But I’ll take your offer. The two in the back can go, and I’ll open the gates to allow the Uluriya peasants into the city before Ruyam catches them. You two and the girl will come with me. When Ruyam reaches us, we’ll all go to him together.”

  Navran

  The pavilion that Thudra mounted on the field north of Virnas kept the white smothering sunlight off of their heads. It did not help with the nervousness twisting in Navran’s gut. He stood very still and did not wring his hands, and he kept his expression stony and serious. So far, it seemed to have worked. Mandhi seemed to credit him with a goat-headed, stoic stubbornness, which didn’t make her treat him better, but it kept her anxious enough to not appear too confident before Thudra.

  Thudra stood on the north side of the pavilion, looking to the north and tugging at the corners of his mustache. Mandhi and Navran were guarded within a corner, separated from the militia captains and other advisors by a thin, transparent curtain. A lone soldier watched them. It was a man that Na
vran recognized from when he played dice. He filed this thought for later.

  A man in green approached from the east, surrounded by a coterie of soldiers. Thudra’s gaze flitted from the messenger to the empty road from the north. “What does Sadja want now?” he snapped at the advisor standing next to him.

  “I don’t know,” the advisor answered dryly.

  “I’m beginning to regret letting him camp on the east field,” Thudra glanced back at Navran and sniffed. “Well, the courier is almost here. And where is the response from Ruyam?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  The man bearing Sadja’s emblems bowed at the edge of the pavilion and was admitted with a gesture from Thudra. Navran glanced back at Mandhi, standing at the rear of the tent with Paidacha’s daughter Kalishni in her arms. She, too, watched Sadja’s messenger and gave Navran a sly glare. She hadn’t spoken to him since he had revealed himself to Thudra in the prison, which Navran guessed was for the best. She wouldn’t have liked his plan if she knew it.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t a very good plan. If Thudra had detained Paidacha in secret, or Paidacha hadn’t gotten his message to Sadja, or if Sadja hadn’t agreed to it, then the whole effort was lost.

  “Thudra-dar of Virnas,” the messenger began, “Sadja-dar of Davrakhanda sends his regards and his warnings. He has learned that you have seized the Heir of Manjur and intend to turn him over to Ruyam.”

  Thudra folded his arms and said nothing. The messenger went on. “Sadja-dar warns you, if you do these things then he will strike against you, destroy the militia of Virnas, and seize the city for himself.”

  At this, Thudra snorted and gestured for the emissary to be quiet. “How does Sadja-dar plan to do this? My militia still holds the city.”

  The emissary responded with a slight expression of apprehension, “Thudra-dar, forgive your servant, but Sadja-dar will not hesitate to strike against your pavilion directly and hold you for ransom against the city.”

  “Will Sadja-dar take on the imperial guard, too?” he asked. “Ruyam’s forces will be here within a few hours. I’ll simply retreat with them.”