Destroyer of Worlds

by Larry Correia

  “I can still fight!” Ajinkya shouted, even as his companion dragged him through the grass by the strap on the back of his armor.

  “I would prefer to spend as few Protector lives as possible today,” Devedas snapped. “Stand back and wait for the Heart to heal you.” He waited until Ajinkya wasn’t going to be stepped on. “Continue.”

  It was a blur of movement, as each of them used the power of the Heart to attack faster than a normal man could even dream of. In the blink of an eye, dozens of blows were exchanged. Ashok moved back and forth along the bank, jumping across the ditch when he needed to, trying to stay ahead of his former brothers. He had fought five demons once. This was worse.

  The Protectors took turns trying to kill him, but there was no real pattern to the deadly dance now. They were too smart to become predictable.

  Glaive, sword, and spear, Ashok was cut. Mace and hammer he was bludgeoned. Like him, the older Protectors had been taught by Master Ratul, and he recognized most of the techniques they tried against him, and he defeated each in rapid succession. What the younger lacked in skill, they made up for in strength and enthusiasm.

  Body drenched in sweat, breath becoming ragged, Ashok fought on. For each assault he turned aside, there were two more aimed at him before he could punish the first. It took everything he had to survive. The sword he had been using, chipped from countless impacts that day, snapped as he struck Usman Thao across the helmet with all his might. The Protector dropped, his bell rung, but Broker immediately took advantage of that opening and smashed his mace into Ashok’s side, lifting him off the ground.

  Gasping, wheezing, Ashok tossed the Vadal blade to his strong hand and barely managed to turn aside Broker’s next strike. Except Rathod brought his sword down on Ashok’s shoulder. The plate stopped the cut, but the impact drove Ashok to his knees. Jamari promptly snap-kicked him in the face.

  Spitting blood on the inside of his facemask, Ashok spun his sword overhead, driving the Protectors back as he regained his feet.

  Dazed Usman was crawling away. Ajinkya was standing, but focused on stopping the bleeding. And poor Kushal was gone. That was three out. Seven remained. Ashok knew he would run out of blood pressure before they ran out of Protectors.

  Then…a whisper.

  In his mind he saw what was coming next. In his chest, he felt a black-steel fire.

  Angruvadal.

  Ashok heeded the warning, and reached back, unseeing, to catch the haft of the speeding pole arm in his palm. The shock of the hit traveled up the bones of his arm, but it was better than letting the heavy blade break his pelvis. There was no way he should have known that was coming.

  Hello, old friend.

  Still latched onto the glaive, Ashok stepped into that swing, collided with the Protector, and smoothly rolled him over his hip.

  Ranvir landed hard on his back. Ashok struck downward.

  This time Lord Protector Devedas himself parried the killing blow.

  Now, here was the true opponent. His equal had joined the fray.

  Devedas launched into a flurry of attacks. His southern sword was heavier, which in the hands of a lesser man would have made it slower, but in the hands of Devedas, it was swift as the blizzard winds which had made him. Ashok outfought the storm.

  The onslaught went on and on. For a moment the other Protectors were frozen, amazed, as the two best swordsmen in the world collided. Their wonder did not last long before they jumped back in.

  Jamari’s sword struck him in the back. Ashok lurched forward. The curved blade of Devedas sliced a groove across his plate. Broker’s mace crashed into his upraised arm. Ashok cut him with the other. As he stumbled away, Angruvadal warned him again, and Ashok barely had time to pull back before another chakram flew past his throat.

  All the Protectors were right on top of him. The ring of steel was closing in.

  Ashok fought and fought, crashing into Protectors, rebounding, and then striking in another direction. He gave them the fight of their lives. He injured many but each time was injured himself in turn. His real heart was pounding. His limbs aching. Bleeding from a dozen cuts and swelling from a multitude of bruises, the pain was becoming too much. He needed to use the Heart of the Mountain to control his injuries, but to slow even a bit meant death.

  Angruvadal told him that Tanhaji was spinning another chakram around his gauntlet, just waiting for the right moment. Rathod was coming up his blind side to try and stab him. He saw a way out, and without hesitation, took it. When Tanhaji threw, Ashok caught it with his gauntlet, and spun with the momentum, releasing the heavy metal disk a foot from Rathod’s face. The whistling steel was driven through the front of Rathod’s helm and embedded itself in the Protector’s skull.

  Rathod dropped, but Jamari and Devedas used Ashok’s overextension to strike as one. A Vadal straight blade pierced deep into his side, as the curved sword of Dev smashed into his head. Ashok’s helmet went flying. The world twisted. Somehow Ashok shoved them both back, before falling to his knees.

  His skull was cracked. He couldn’t see out one eye. It felt like his liver had been pierced. Ashok had no choice but to call upon the Heart to stop the bleeding or he would have immediately blacked out. The instant the Heart changed focus his arms and legs felt like molten lead. His useless muscles burned. The skin beneath his armor was spreading black and blue. Blood and snot were running from his nose and down his chin.

  The Protectors knew it was over. Ashok was crippled. Everyone stopped to catch their breath.

  “How are you even still alive?” Devedas asked in wonder. “You should only have the skill of one man now, not forty generations of bearer, except you still fought like you had Angruvadal with you.”

  “I do.” The wizard Sikasso had called Ashok a hybrid, but not of man and demon, but of man and black steel. Ashok didn’t know if this was true or just another of the assassin’s lies, but there was no doubt now that some part of Angruvadal survived with him. He put one shaking hand over his heart. “In here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I, brother. Neither do I.”

  He was severely injured, but Ashok turned the Heart away from his hurt for just a moment in order to sharpen his hearing. Only one ear was working. The other was filled with blood. The battle still raged. Men were dying. His men were dying. But a great many of the Akershani warriors were quiet, eyes upon this scene, knowing that they were watching a historic moment, so they could one day tell their children and grandchildren about how they were there when the infamous criminal Ashok Vadal had finally been put down like a man-eating tiger that had been terrorizing a village.

  But that wasn’t what Ashok was listening for…It took him a moment—and even that was enough to make him swoon from the blood loss—to pick out the sounds he was looking for.

  The word. Ready. And then a long series of metallic clicks.

  Devedas knelt in front of him. “I want you to know that was most impressive. You truly were the best of us…Well, second best.” Devedas smiled, but it was forced and sad, yet for a moment it was almost as if they were just two old friends at the end of a very long journey.

  Ashok laughed. “It was a good battle.”

  Aim.

  “Truly. You are a legend. It took ten Protectors to defeat you!”

  “Forgive me, Devedas…but I’m not defeated yet.”

  Ashok toppled backward into the ditch.

  As the Sons of the Black Sword made their battle plans he had told Gupta what to watch for, to wait until the Protectors were totally focused upon him, and the gunner risaldar had done as commanded. From their new position up the ashen hill, they had a clear view of Ashok’s defeat. The Protectors were all near, standing close around Ashok to hear his last words.

  Fire.

  Sixty lead balls flew through the tight-packed group of Protectors.

  Chapter 42

  Flesh and bone were no match for the storm gods’ wrath. The dense projectiles rippe
d jagged holes through plate to smash into the flesh beneath. Keta had spoken of a roar like lions, but from where Ashok was hugging the bloody ground, it sounded more like a swarm of angry hornets buzzing past, only these hornets hit like the spiked end of a war hammer.

  A body fell on top of him, gushing hot blood. It was Jamari, who had been struck several times. The Protector cried out as Ashok rolled him aside. To his credit, Jamari tried to draw his dagger to keep fighting, but Ashok plucked it from his weak grasp, and left him in the ditch as he climbed out to survey the damage.

  Only a couple of the Protectors were still standing, though they too had been hit. The rest had been struck down. A few were obviously dead, with multiple ghastly wounds inflicted upon their bodies. Others were groaning, calling upon the Heart, trying to stop the bleeding. Tanhaji was looking in disbelief at the jagged bone sticking out of his leg. Broker Harban had been shot through the helm, and as he ripped it off, revealed that one eye socket had been completely obliterated.

  Devedas was among those still upright, but he had one hand pressed against his ribs. When he took his bloody hand away, the hole began to leak profusely. He’d been pierced through the lung. When Devedas realized the sorry state his men were in a look of pure anguish came over his face. “What have you done?”

  “What I had to,” Ashok said as he picked up the sword Jamari Vadal had dropped.

  The Akershani warriors had been watching the spectacle, expecting to witness the end of Ashok. Instead they had seen the mightiest group of Law enforcers any of them had ever seen assembled, instantly and brutally cut down by nothing more than a casteless mob. They’d already taken heavy losses. Powder bombs were exploding in their midst. Their friends had been ripped apart by terrible magic too fast to see. The damnable rebels refused to budge. And after all that, the Protectors, the unstoppable force of the all-seeing Law, who they had expected to help them…gone.

  That was the end for them. Warriors began to scatter. The direction didn’t even matter. Just as long as it was away from the gunners. Some officers tried to rally their troops, but that simply drew the arrows of Toramana’s hunters. Word spread quickly. Warriors who hadn’t even seen the carnage were told about slaughtered Protectors and became afraid. Risaldars called for retreat.

  Ashok and Devedas both had been in so many battles they could read the situation well. The phontho’s wishes no longer mattered. He had lost control of his army. Fear and disorder had claimed them. The rebels were now in control. Once their leader realized that, the horn would blow, signaling their retreat.

  Despite the punctured lung, Devedas started toward him.

  “Wait, Devedas. Think. My army is still in one piece. The battle is already lost. Get your wounded out of here. Enough Protectors have died today.”

  Furious, Devedas glanced down at his men, and hesitated as he realized that at least half of them could be saved. “You know we can’t just abandon this place to criminals!”

  “I’m not trying to capture this land. I’m trying to defend its people from you.”

  “They’re not real people. They don’t matter!”

  “They do to me!” Ashok bellowed.

  Devedas took another step, then hesitated. “I can’t return to the Capitol saying I let the Black Heart win! I’ve got to return triumphant or not at all.”

  They were so few in number as it was, losing so many at once would be a terrible blow to their already disgraced Order. Yet it still saddened Ashok that he seemed to care more about the fate of the men who had just been trying to kill him, than the man who commanded them. He had expected better of his old friend. Ashok had been calm before, but a cold rage began to build. Much of that anger was directed inward, at himself, at the knowledge of what he was and had been, for he knew he had been just as devoted to the Law, and just as willing to let his people die in pursuit of its defense.

  “Then I will make you an offer, Devedas. As I give your men mercy, I will also grant you your wish. I’ll allow them to leave the field. Those who can walk can carry those who can’t. The Heart will save who it wants, and they can live to defend the Law another day. But you and I…We stay and we finish this.”

  “A duel then.”

  They were both hurt. Neither would be able to use the Heart for anything beyond sustaining their lives. Ashok would not accept Angruvadal’s help. That would not be honorable. It would be a test of skill and character.

  “You order your Protectors off the field and I will do the same for my army. You have my word.”

  “What good is the word of a criminal?”

  “It is all I can offer. Accept it, or all of you can go beneath the hooves of my cavalry.”

  Devedas recognized he was trapped. All his men could do was lie there and try not to die. “Just the two of us, just like before.”

  “We’re not children anymore.”

  “I don’t think either of us ever really were, Ashok. I accept your offer.”

  ✧ ✧ ✧

  The wounded had been gathered. The battlefield cleared.

  “What will they do with all the dead, do you think?” Devedas asked.

  “The Garo will probably throw them all in the river and let them be carried out to sea,” Ashok answered. It seemed practical, but very disrespectful. “The ocean’s rather near.”

  Devedas snorted. “No wonder these people were always whining to my father about their demon troubles.”

  The two of them sat on the farmer’s wooden fence, watching the storm roll in. The winds had picked up, causing ripples through the grass. At least the grass that hadn’t been trampled by boots. Parts of the hillside still burned. The coming rain would probably put it out.

  They had both taken off their armor. Devedas at first, because he’d needed to stitch shut the gaping hole through his chest so the Heart could do its work. Then Ashok had removed his as well, to keep things fair. The pieces were piled next to each other on the ground, lamellar plates, chain, and leather, one set silver, one set black, both filthy.

  Keta had called Ashok a lunatic for holding this duel. He’d argued they had nothing to gain. They had the upper hand. The Sons could have easily finished off all the powerful servants of the Law, and maybe such a loss would even be enough to finally convince the Capitol to leave them be. Only Ashok had known that was nothing but a dream. The Capitol would never ever stop, especially not now. The Law required absolute obedience. It could not tolerate even the tiniest deviation, for to do so would be to set a standard that would cause their entire edifice to crumble.

  The Keeper of Names had been right about one thing though. Ashok had nothing to gain by dueling Devedas, and everything to lose…Except that didn’t matter. This wasn’t about logic or any grand strategy. Ashok didn’t know what it was really, except necessary.

  It had been hours since they’d soaked the Garo’s fields in blood. The Protectors had gone east with the defeated Akershani. The Sons had headed back up into the mountains. At first Devedas had been furious with him. Eventually anger had subsided into resignation. What was done was done. They both recognized the inevitability of this moment. Emotions would only make them easier to beat. So they had sat together and waited to heal.

  Now it was only the two of them and the dead.

  Devedas took a long drink from the wine skin that the Sons had left for them. “Ah. That’s much finer than the stuff we had last time we drank together.” He tossed the skin to Ashok, who caught it, and then took a drink himself.

  Perhaps he was very thirsty, or just needed to wash the taste of Fortress smoke from his mouth, but it really was good. Shekar had probably stolen it from a Garo farmhouse. “When was that?”

  “Gujara…When I delivered the message summoning you back to the Capitol, and found you digging a grave for some random casteless.”

  That seemed like a very long time ago. “I think that was when this all really began.”

  Devedas chuckled. “Hardly. This travesty began when a little casteless boy picked
up a priceless ancestor blade and for some baffling reason it didn’t immediately slice his hands off for the insult.”

  “Overall, that is true. I meant that it was upon that beach, jungle on one side and hell on the other, when the first cracks appeared in my then perfect obedience.” He passed the wineskin back.

  “You’ve never been given to introspection. That’s damned near poetic by your standards.” Devedas took another drink. “They took a casteless brat, wiped the slate clean, and made you into the ideal servant of the Law. It stuck for twenty years. That’s impressive. Those Vadal wizards do good work.”

  “I suppose we were both created by the circumstances of our past.”

  Devedas was quiet for a long time. “I suppose.” Then he shook his head, as if such thoughts left him bitter. “I came from everything and received nothing. You had nothing and received everything.”

  “When we spoke in my prison cell, you were going to punish all of the conspirators who made me. How did that work out?”

  The Lord Protector shrugged. “Politics got in the way.”

  Not unexpected, but unfortunate. “Harta Vadal deserves to die for his part in this.”

  “I know. And to think of how bitter I was when I believed Mindarin was summoning you back to give you my current office. I was so very jealous. Little did I realize he was calling you back to ruin your life in a vain attempt to assuage his guilt. Besides, most of being Lord Protector is getting pushed about as a piece in the games of worthless know-nothing judges.”

  “No one should be untouchable, not even judges,” Ashok muttered. “An important man can break the Law with impunity, but a low-status man who just wants to be left in peace is hounded to the ends of the world. A Law applied unevenly is no Law at all.”

  “Agreed,” Devedas said. “That’s why after I’m done here, I intend to fix it.”

  “How?”