The ten riders were on powerful Akershani steeds, and they made excellent time up the winding trail. Horse was so aggressive he naturally wanted to charge them, to demonstrate who was the strongest, but Ashok wouldn’t let him. Instead they stopped in a field where he would be easy to spot, and Horse angrily ate grass while they waited.
Eight of the riders halted. Two of their number slowed to a walk but continued their approach. Their armor appeared to be of excellent quality. One wore a wolf’s skull over his helm, and the other, older man wore a purple sash that marked him as someone of rank and status. They were armed with the forward-curving swords of the southern style, designed for chopping. That style was very familiar to Ashok, mostly because he had sparred against one like it many times in the hands of Devedas.
Ashok has also donned his Protector armor. What had once been silver was now stained black. The Sons had told him he made an imposing figure, and it must have been true, because the two emissaries seemed nervous. Ashok reached up and removed his helmet so they could see his face.
They stopped, twenty paces between them.
“Welcome to Garo lands, newcomer,” said the one with the sash. He was about sixty, but still possessed a strong voice, a commander’s voice. “I am Ranjan Garo, phontho of this garrison.”
Such an important man didn’t ride out to collect taxes or stamp traveling papers.
“I am Ashok Vadal, criminal.” He gave a polite bow.
“As suspected.” Then he turned to the rider next to him. “Your guess was correct, my son.”
“The Akershan have certainly been waiting for him.” That one took off the wolf helm, revealing a face that was vaguely familiar. “Well met again, Ashok Vadal.”
“Do I know you?”
“It’s no surprise you don’t recognize me. The last time we met my face was black and blue from the beating I received from Akershani pig dogs, and I was covered in mud and blood from where they left me on the plains to die with an arrow in my back.”
“Ah…” Last he’d heard Thera had left the wounded man behind because he’d not wanted to continue on with their gang of refugees. “It is the warrior who did not like massacring casteless.”
“It wasn’t an obligation any honorable man would aspire to.”
“Honorable men do not often get much of a say, even when theirs are the vilest orders,” Ashok said. “That is the Law.”
The young warrior looked pointedly up the hillside to where Ashok’s army was hidden. Somehow their position had been given away. The Garo’s scouts were better than expected.
“You seem to have a bit of an issue with following the Law yourself, Ashok Vadal.”
“I do not claim to be honorable. Not anymore at least.”
“You’ve already met my youngest son, Rane Garo,” the phontho said. “It was because of the nature of that meeting that we are speaking politely now, rather than me having my men hound you from our valley.”
“You could try.” They obviously knew he had brought a significant force, but that didn’t mean they knew how strong the Sons were. Ashok glanced down at the waiting armies. Neither force was mobilizing. The Garo knew the Sons were here, but they had not yet passed that intelligence on to their masters. That was telling. “However, I think this polite method benefits us both.”
“What brings you to Garo lands, Black Heart?”
The name was not meant to give offense. Everyone in Lok had heard of the fearsome Ashok Vadal by now. It was simply another title, no more, no less. “I have declared the casteless to be under my protection. I was informed the warriors are killing them again.”
“This is true. Our cattle go unfed and peat undug as our non-people hide terrified in their shacks, awaiting their doom.”
“And we can’t even protect our own property. This nonsense supposedly comes all the way from the Capitol,” Rane snapped. “This valley turns into a frozen bog seven months of the year. It’s a fight just to survive. We can’t hardly do that with half our laborers dead. House Dev never would’ve agreed to such wasteful stupidity.”
“Enough.” The phontho held up one gloved hand. “We do not need to speak of our house’s internal problems with outsiders. Return to the bodyguard and wait. I will be along in a moment.”
“Apologies, Father.” Chastised, Rane put his wolf helmet back on. Surprisingly, he gave Ashok a respectful salute, and then rode away.
The father watched him go, before speaking again. “Like many of our young warriors, he’s hotheaded and impetuous. If not for you, he would’ve died in a ditch, and he knows it. My greatest regret is allowing our Thakoor to draft some of my men to aid in this asinine extermination. It has brought us nothing but mourning, as several of our defiant youth were killed for disobeying those shameful orders. We hold no hate in our hearts for the non-people here. Because you saved his life, my son begged me to talk with you rather than simply attack. My superiors would not like this.”
The tone told Ashok much. “Does your Thakoor know that we speak now?”
“Heh. You’ll learn there are two kinds of vassals, Black Heart. Those who retain their pride, and those who are happy to lick the boots of their conquerors. Our Thakoor will know only two things today, this conversation never happened, and the taste of Akershani shoe leather. Your saving the life of my son gave me the excuse I needed to come out here and warn you away, but honestly, my people gain nothing by fighting you.”
Such talk was treasonous. Legally, this was not for the vassal house to decide. No wonder he had sent the only other witness away. “What do you propose then?”
“No one can fault a warrior for falling back inside his fortifications, to protect his city from a deadly invader. Especially when his more powerful masters are already on the field with a far superior force. You two will fight. I will watch. You are not my friend, but you are also not my enemy. Come not against the walls of Garo, and it will remain that way.”
“I’ve no desire to raise my sword against anyone other than those who would harm the people I’ve vowed to protect.”
“Then we have an understanding, Black Heart. Do what you must, then leave this place. Against Akershan, you may win, or you may lose. Either way their warriors will be too busy to murder all the casteless I need kept alive to fill my storehouse. There is no benefit in sending my men to die on behalf of a house who despises us, fighting for the cause of starving ourselves quicker. Whether it is the corpses of rebels or occupiers floating down the river at the end of the day, Garo will be content.”
“Acceptable,” Ashok agreed. Though the phontho’s ignoring the Law still galled him, he was coming to understand the pragmatic necessity of such low behavior. “Surely someone will find out that the two of us spoke here beforehand.”
“I will say that I simply rode out here to warn away a trespasser.”
“Trespass will be the least of my crimes today, Garo.”
“I will say I tried, yet sadly the criminal did not listen.” He shrugged. “Be warned though, there are Protectors nearby, waiting.”
“I figured there would be. How many?”
“I do not know. But among them is Devedas.”
Ashok had suspected his former brother would be here, but the news still saddened him. One of them would more than likely die today. “I know him well.”
“I only know him by reputation. But when I was Rane’s age, I served his father, who was the greatest war leader the south lands have ever known, a man of pure determination, who had no equal on the battlefield, with or without his ancestor blade. When that sword broke, it didn’t just break him, it broke our people. I was there when, unable to accept his failure, he cast himself into the sea. The fall is worse the higher you are. If the son is even half the man his father was…”
“He is more.” Devedas’ father had given up. Devedas was not capable of giving up.
“Then good luck to you, Black Heart. You will need it. Try not to destroy too much of our property in the process. Oh, about
that, the fields of oil grass—that’s the plant with the purple sheen—should it catch, it burns fierce hot and spreads faster than a man can run this time of year. My people have a saying in this valley, only a fool marches through the oil grass when there’s lightning in the sky…Unfortunately for the occupiers they are not my people, so they’ve not heard this saying.”
“Noted.”
The phontho rode back to his bodyguard. Ashok returned to his army.
Chapter 39
From a barn loft on the side of the valley, Devedas and a few of his Protectors watched as the rebel force moved into the open.
“A few hundred is a good showing for criminals,” said Broker Harban. “Should we go help?”
“Let the warriors handle it,” Devedas muttered. “We’re here for Ashok. Nothing else matters.”
The rebels seemed better organized than expected. In the rare time you caught them in a group, fanatics fought like rabble. Nothing more than a gang. These lines were orderly. That should not have surprised him. Ashok had that sort of influence on people. By presence alone he made everyone else work harder to be better.
A horn sounded. Their enemy spotted, the Akershani army sprang into action. Hundreds of men ran to saddle their horses, and hundreds more took up their spears.
“They should have spotted them much sooner,” Jamari Vadal muttered. “They should have already had flankers in position.”
“Indeed,” said Devedas. “Except I suspect the masters delegated that responsibility to the locals. This is their home ground after all.” Curiously, the Garo army was moving too, but not toward the riverbank to where it made sense to engage and hold the invaders, but rather toward their own gate. “They’re retreating behind their walls.”
“Never trust a vassal house,” Jamari snarled. “Cowards.”
Devedas knew that assessment was wrong. These lands had once belonged to his family. The Garo had earned a bad reputation in polite circles. They loved drunkenness and promiscuity. They were conniving and prone to violence…But in all the times he had heard his father speak of the Garo, he had never once questioned their courage. In fact, quite the opposite. They were reckless and always eager to fight. Or at least they had been for Great House Dev.
“No, Jamari. A careless master is rewarded with disobedient servants. That’s the lesson here.”
Devedas would not have been a weak master. It was curious to think that this place should have belonged to him. It was a poor land, but it was a paradise compared to the unforgiving frozen wasteland where he’d been born. Those banners flying over the walls? They should have been his family sign. That army? Should have been answering to his commands.
Well…All of Lok would obey him soon enough. The only thing standing in his way was Ashok.
With ten Protectors at his disposal this humble barn had briefly turned into the strongest fortification in Lok. They had an excellent vantage point to see the armies were in motion. There was quite the distance between them still, and they would both be looking for advantageous ground. It might be hours before they actually engaged. The Protectors were tense. They’d waited a long time for this opportunity, and it was difficult knowing their great nemesis was this close.
“Patience, lads. Ashok’s the only target we care about today. Without him, these criminals are dust. Don’t worry. It won’t be long now. He’s never been content to wait in the back. Battle is in his blood. Whether it was the wizards who built him, the sword who made him that way, or maybe he’s just the most combative casteless ever born, Ashok won’t be able to resist its call. Once we see him, we strike.”
The barn was quiet except for the constant creaking caused by the growing wind. The sky was gray for a summer day, but dark clouds were gathering over the mountains. There was a distant flash of lightning.
As the rebels got closer, Devedas called upon the Heart to sharpen his vision. It was still difficult to tell at such a great distance, but they seemed remarkably confident. They weren’t moving like men condemned to be slaughtered by the professional warriors who outnumbered them. They actually thought they had a chance. Religious fanaticism caused delusions like unto the strongest drug.
The criminals had no uniform. Some of them wore bits and pieces of armor. The majority of them were armed with spears. Then Devedas noted that most of those still on horseback seemed better armed and equipped. Their colors were faded, but he saw colors that had to be from Kharsawan, Thao, and even Akershan. It appeared the rebels had collected some real warriors after all.
Where are you, Ashok?
He would be easy enough to pick out once battle was joined. Wherever the carnage was greatest, that would be their former brother’s doing.
They may have had some warriors but apparently none of them were experienced tacticians, because the position the rebels were taking made no sense. They were moving toward the low ground. They had the fierce river with tall, steep banks on their right flank, wide open fields ahead of them—where the superior Akershani cavalry could maneuver and rain down arrows on them with impunity—and their entire left flank was unprotected hillside. Already, Devedas saw that the Akershani phontho had dispatched a paltan of heavy cavalry and two of infantry to claim that high ground. They were unopposed. Once the main body made contact in the front, those three units would be able to charge downhill directly into the rebels’ vulnerable side or sweep around into the rear. Pinned between that and the water, it wouldn’t take long for untrained casteless to break and run. Then the cavalry could ride down the survivors at their leisure.
“They’re going to shove them right into the river,” Jamari said.
Devedas drummed his fingers against the wooden door frame he was leaning against. It made no sense. Ashok was smarter than that. Had living without the Law driven him completely mad? Did he want this rebellion to fail? Was this some elaborate attempt at a glorious suicide?
Or far worse, what if Devedas had gotten it all wrong and Ashok hadn’t been drawn out at all? What if he’d remained in hiding, and the Protectors were wasting their time on these foolish criminals while the real prize was hundreds of miles away?
The phontho who had lost at Dhakhantar had been a doddering senile fool. The one in charge today appeared to know his business. His infantry was marching across the farmland, taking their time, conserving their energy. He had twice as many spearmen as the entire rebel force combined.
The Akershani cavalry was arguably the best in Lok. Second best if you were debating that point with someone from Zarger. They were ranging ahead of their spearmen, readying their bows. Devedas had seen them in action before. They would ride back and forth, harassing the enemy with a constant rain of arrows, while being too fast to get hit back easily. And then once they saw an opportunity, or their infantry created an opportunity for them, they would exploit it. One good charge would gut the enemy.
What are you doing, Ashok?
✧ ✧ ✧
Much of the afternoon passed as the enemy took their time maneuvering into position. The Sons were ready. The Keeper of Names—who had insisted on accompanying them for some baffling reason—was moving up and down their lines, chanting, and pronouncing blessings upon the faithful. Ashok had found that annoying, but the men had seemed to like it, so he had allowed Keta his rituals.
Most of the men were afraid, but not all. The true Sons, the ones who had already been tested and found worthy, were confident, or at least they acted that way for the others. After all, they had fought a demon and won. What were mortal foes compared to the spawn of the sea?
So they’d taken up their position, and then waited, eating their rations, sharpening their swords, some of them even napping. There were dark clouds over the mountains to the north, indicating there would be harsh summer rains later, but for now it remained a warm and windy day. Those who were wearing armor sweated beneath it. Horses’ tails flicked to keep away the biting flies. The warriors understood that the worst part was the wait, but they were used to it. For
the workers and casteless, the painful anxiety was a new discovery.
Though unorthodox, Ashok had found no terrible flaw in their plan. They would let the enemy think they were some mere gang of criminals…Until it was too late.
As the Akershani moved toward them, Ashok’s army made ready.
The time had come.
✧ ✧ ✧
“Lord Protector, there’s something amiss,” Usman Thao said. “Note how the rebel troops are divided.”
They were spreading out to defend the indefensible. That wasn’t odd enough? “What is it, Usman?”
“The rebels in their middle. Their formation is different. The first rank kneels. The second half stands behind them.”
Maybe they thought to present more spears toward the enemy? Though surely the Akershani wouldn’t be stupid enough to let their cavalry charge yet. They’d seed terror by planting arrows in flesh first, let that fear grow, then reap the harvest.
Except Usman was right. Something felt wrong about the enemy center. The rebels’ equipment was a haphazard collection of battlefield pickups. They had no standardized load out. Even those he’d been thinking of as spearmen were armed with a variety of spears, pole arms, long pikes, and their second rank had axes and hammers…But the odd group in the middle, their weapons were all of uniform length, which was a bit too short.
Those aren’t spears.
That realization came far too late.
✧ ✧ ✧
Ashok watched as the cavalry approached, galloping across the Garo’s fields. He could feel the vibration of hooves. The ground was firm, throwing up dust rather than mud.
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