by Allan Cole
All were weary from the mad dash, but Luka gave them no time for respite. He quickly found a likely campsite for his father's army. It was nestled among gentle hills and centered at what had once been Badawi's farm. There was nothing remaining of that farm, thanks to Sarn and his bandit horde, except a few charred timbers and a half-a-dozen caved-in roasting pits where Badawi's family and livestock had been cooked and eaten.
Luka sent out patrols to scout the region, but other than a few ragged families huddled in homes made of sun dried mud bricks, there were no human groups of any significance to be found. Partly this was because few dared to settle so close to the Forbidden Desert. Mostly it was because Sarn had gone about his duties enthusiastically, wiping out any of the small settlements he'd found. Luka didn't know this and so he concluded it was superstition alone that had done the work.
Several weeks passed and there was still no sign of Manacia and the main army. Luka pressed a few trusted human slaves into service, sending them deeper into the humanlands to spy out and map the region. Before they'd left he'd promised them rich rewards for success and reminded them he had their families back in Zanzair as hostages if they betrayed him.
"I'll flay every babe you call your own, he warned. I'll rip off the limbs of your women and stake out their still-living bodies on ant mounds."
They took his words to heart and by the time the first elements of Manacia's gigantic army hove into view, Luka had maps and detailed intelligence covering hundreds of square miles.
"You certainly took a lot on yourself, Manacia grumbled when Luka showed him the fruits of his efforts.
The king was tired and dirty from his long ordeal. The slowness of the pace, the constant bawling of the animals and the absence of certain creature comforts vital to a king's well-being had made his anger swell like a boil. Luka was careful not to prick it.
Luka apologized profusely, saying, I'm sorry, Majesty. There's no excuse for my behavior. I promise I won't let it happen again."
Manacia was soothed, although he complained the time would have been better spent making the royal camp more comfortable. When he'd grumbled himself out he took a closer look at the maps and reports his son had gathered.
"I suppose these will be of some use to us, he allowed. One of the maps he was studying was a rough eagle's view of all the major hamlets and towns from the Forbidden Desert clear to the great human city called Caspan. I'll have the scribes make copies and pass them out to my generals. I doubt we can rely on them too greatly, but there's no sense wasting effort well-meant."
"Yes, Majesty. You are too kind, Majesty, Luka murmured.
Meanwhile, he was thinking, You misbegotten still-birth of a camel, I've just given you the keys to the whole damned thing. But you won't admit it, you old fraud. Getting praise from you is like pulling fangs. Well, keep your praise. It's your throne I want.
You'd better watch your back, you foul old fiend, because I fully intend to take that crown away from you and mount your head on the gates of Zanzair.
****
The demon juggernaut swept along the Gods Divide, ravaging any force that dared stand in its way.
Mostly the humans were stricken with such terror at the sight of the demon hordes they surrendered on the spot. Believing the gods had abandoned them, they gave themselves up meekly, accepting any terms King Manacia demanded.
Some he slew, some he enslaved, but mostly he followed the practices that had won him a demon empire. If the humans threw down their arms without a fight he tended to be merciful. He let the rulers keep their posts and made them swear fealty to him, recognizing him as the one true monarchthe King of KingsMaster of Esmir; lord of all humans and demons alike.
He sealed them to their oath by requiring them to sign documents in their own blood, telling them the documents would always be by his side and if they betrayed him he would cast a spell that would let loose a voracious worm in their guts.
Manacia left only a small garrison force at each place he took, relying on fear and sorcery to keep his human subjects contrite.
First he sent his sniffers out to find and kill any human with magical talent.
Then he had small temples erected at the key cities and hamlets, with a demon wizard in charge of each edifice. Portable spell machines were installed in the temples, spewing out spells by the hour meant to keep the populace fearful and humble and strike terror in the hearts of any outside enemy who might attempt to retake the city.
Once he'd secured the spine of the humanlandsthe great mountain range called the Gods Dividehe struck toward Caspan.
That region proved more difficult. The cities were much larger as were the armies who defended them. He also no longer had the element of surprise. The human monarchs and generals he encountered swallowed their terror and fought grimly to halt the demon invasion.
The enemy generals conscripted everyone of fighting age, hurling the ragged, weeping hordes before Manacia's forces. Most of the humans died, but in dying they slowed Manacia's drive enough so the professionals could attack the weak points. True, ten humans might fall for every demon. But Manacia had no way of replacing his losses.
Manacia began losing fiends at an alarming rate. Of the half-a-million he started with, less than four hundred thousand remained when he approached the gates of Caspan.
Crown Prince Luka's shock troops had suffered the most. When the human hordes charged out to meet him he had only five thousand mounted fiends to meet that charge.
"This is it, Luka thought as he led his fiends into the battle. This is when I die."
The humans were horrid things, ugly as the devils from the Hells. Flat faces, piggy little eyes and filthy little mouths that screamed hate and fury as they fought.
They had good armor, sturdy weapons and were mounted on huge mailed warhorses that reared up to fight the demon steeds with iron-tipped feet. It was hoof against claw, talon against hand, swords and axes flailing about at close quarters, blood spraying everywhere.
Archers and slingmen sent shower after shower of missiles into the melee, not caring who fellfriend or foeso long as the demons were kept from the gates.
Two horsemen crowded Luka from either side. A pikeman reared up in front of him. His mount slashed at the pikeman, disemboweling him. But as he died he plunged forward, burying his pike into the beast's shoulder. The animal screamed in pain, but kept its feet. Luka swung left, sword biting through human mail and finding flesh. His opponent toppled from his horse, but before Luka could turn to meet the other he felt a sharp pain in his side.
The human had struck first.
Howling in agony, Luka slashed at the man with sword. In a haze he saw blood gout, feared it was his own, then he saw the human fall and felt relief rush in to dull his pain.
His mount staggered and Luka leaped off moments before it crashed to the ground. Now he was standing in the middle of plunging horses and demon beasts, dodging blows from every side. He saw one of his fiends topple from his mount and Luka vaulted into the saddle and grabbed the reins.
"Victory! he bellowed. For the gods and the king!"
His cry rallied his soldiers and they returned his shout"Victory! For the gods and the king!"
They charged the humans with spirits renewed, smashing and slashing them down.
Finally, the humans broke, fleeing through the gates.
Luka and his fiends pursued them, hacking their way through the gates defenders.
Suddenly there was no one to kill anymore. Luka and his soldiers found themselves in a large square, panting and heaving and bleeding from many wounds.
Behind him he heard trumpets sound.
His father's trumpets.
Then there was a great roar of demon voices and a sea of Manacia's soldiers poured through the gates.
Rising out their midst was his father's royal elephant. The huge animal moved smoothly across the square to Luka.
Manacia grinned down at him from the howdah, fangs displayed in full gleam.
Luka bowed, fighting not to show pain.
"Caspan is yours, Majesty! he cried. It is my gift to you, and demon history!"
And he thought, this was for you, Mother, for you!
And Manacia thought, how dare he make a gift of what is already mine? Then he remembered the day when he'd said something similar to his own father.
The next time Luka falls, he thought, I must make certain he doesn't rise again.
Manacia was a dutiful king, a hard working king, and he had at least twenty other sons to take Luka's place.
I'd best choose the youngest to succeed him as heir to my throne, Manacia thought. Princes grow up so quickly these days.
Why, I was nearly thirty winters old before I slew my father.
****
"Coralean is desolate, the caravan master said. He is a coin clipped of its worth. A sway-backed camel with more fleas than spirit.
"It seems it is Coralean's fate that each time he greets you, my king, whom I dare call friend, that he drags demons, or news of demons, into your highness august presence."
"Come now, Coralean, Iraj protested, I'm not one of those city-bred despots who forgets his friends soon as he wins the throne. And I'm certainly not one to harm the messenger who brings ill tidings.
"Isn't that right, Safar?"
Safar stirred in his seata smaller version of Iraj's traveling throne.
"Actually, he deadpanned, Iraj had his royal torturers put out the eyes and slit the tongue of the last fellow who was in here babbling about demons."
Iraj frowned. What a thing to say, Safar, he protested, I gave the man a purse of gold. Don't you re he broke off, laughing. You're joking again, he said.
Then, to the caravan master, You see how it is, Coralean? My friends are always making jests at my expense!"
"King Protarus speaks the truth, Safar said. You'll notice I still have both my eyes and a whole tongue, and yet I bring him bad news daily."
He gestured at the empty main room of the command tent. Why, our king is so grand a monarch he even permits his friends to use his common name in private.
"Isn't that so, Iraj?"
More laughter from the king. Don't pay any attention to him, Coralean, he advised. Safar is just punishing me for ignoring his advice."
He leaned out from his throne. I had to let my men sack the last city we took, he said. I was short of gold and they hadn't been paid all winter. Safar was opposed to the sacking. He said it was bad business."
Coralean's merchant smile lit the dim room. An honest dispute among right-thinking men, he said. One looks at future profits. The other at more immediate concerns. There is no right or wrong in such a disagreement."
He bowed his craggy head in Iraj's direction, saying, The pity should go to the master, who must torment himself for being forced to ignore his advisors and act according to his best judgment."
The look of pleasure on Iraj's face made Safar fully appreciate why Coralean had been so successful in his long and dangerous career. Despite his common man pretense, Iraj had proven to be a prickly monarch. His dark moods had made the winter long. Then spring had brought the first news of the demon invasion and had plunged him deeper into depression. Iraj had allowed the first city he'd taken to be sacked not to please his men, but to vent his rage.
"What a lucky man I am to have two such loyal friends, Iraj said. One uses wise and well-put phrases to guide me, the other amusing barbswhich also serve to remind me I am only human."
Don't forget money and magic, Safar thought. We bring you that as well.
Safar had created and cast his first battle spell to help Iraj take the city he later sacked. Coralean, that canny old merchant, had funded Iraj's ambitions from the start. He'd been handsomely rewarded with exclusive trading contracts.
You haven't done so badly either, Safar chided himself. In the short time he'd been at Iraj's side Safar had become a wealthy man by anyone's measurement. As Grand Wazier he had been given vast tracts of land and chests of rare gems and metals.
"So tell us your news, my friend, Iraj said to Coralean. Don't spare my feelings. I'm braced for the worst."
"Caspan has fallen, Coralean said.
Coming from such a normally loquacious man, his brevity was a shock. Iraj flinched, then tried to cover his concern.
Fingers rapping on the arm of his throne gave him away. I see. Well, we were expecting that. Weren't we Safar?"
Safar nodded. They'd heard rumors of Manacia's drive toward Caspan and he'd made a castings that did not bode well for the city's defenders.
"Coralean barely escaped with his life, the caravan master said. I sent my wives into hiding and fled the city just in time."
He went on to describe the series of battles that led to the taking of Caspan. Trying to add a note of cheer he went into some detail on the great losses Manacia had suffered in the campaign.
But Iraj kept rapping his fingers against wood. So few, he murmured. I'd hoped he would have suffered more."
He looked up at Coralean. I suppose it won't be long before he comes over the mountains, he said.
"I fear so, Coralean said. The last I heard he was preparing his army and searching for the route to Kyrania."
The mention of Kyrania was a heavy spear aimed at Safar's heart. Intentional or not, Safar bent a closer ear to what Coralean had to say.
"A caravan master's life isn't worth a copper on that side of the Gods Divide, Coralean said. Many of my brother merchants have been seized and tortured for the information. Luckily the demons know so little of human affairs they keep seizing the wrong men.
"But they only need one success and Manacia's army will be on the march to Kyrania."
Iraj was silent for a time; fingers rap, rap, rapping. Then he said to Coralean, voice so low he could barely be heard, Leave us for a time, my friend. I must speak with my brother."
The caravan master bowed, murmured a few kind words and departed.
Soon as he was gone Iraj turned to Safar, face full of anguish. You said I would be king of kings! he cried.
"And you will, Safar replied.
"Are you certain your talent isn't playing you false? Iraj demanded. Am I a fool, bound to a fool's vision?"
"Let me speak plainly, Safar said. There's no question that you are a fool. Who else but a fool would want to be king of Esmir? But fool or not, that is your destiny."
"Beware! Iraj snapped. I'm in no mood for insults, friendly though they may be."
"If you don't want to hear the truth, Safar said, then command my silence."
"I've given you power, Iraj said.
"Take it back, Safar replied. It's more of a burden than I care to shoulder."
"I've made you rich, Iraj pointed out.
"In Kyrania, Safar said, wealth is a bountiful harvest that all share.
Iraj grew angry. Are you saying that in your view all I've given you is worthless?"
Taking a lesson from Coralean, Safar replied, Not your friendship. I value that most highly, Iraj Protarus."
Iraj was mollified. His finger rapping ceased. What should I do, brother? he asked. How do I achieve what your vision foretold?"
"Why don't we look at the problem a different way? Safar said. Why don't we turn it about and see if luck's barren goat will still give milk?"
"I'm listening, Iraj said.
"When you started out your greatest difficulty was a family feud, Safar said. An uncle opposed your rightful claim to leadership. A few of your kin were greedy enough to support that uncle. But mostout of long family feelings and traditionsupported you."
"True enough, Iraj said. Although it was more complicated than that."
"To counter that natural feeling, Safar continued, your uncle went to an outsider. A man hated by all in your family."
"It gave him a temporary advantage, Iraj said, but in the end it was a help to me. After a few
successes, my family rallied to me."
"So your uncle's alliance with an enemy, Safar said, was his downfall."
Iraj thought for a moment, then nodded. Yes. That is so."
"There you have it, Safar said. The presence of a hated outsider gave you power to rally your clan. Afterwards, you put clan together with clan to take to the road as a conqueror.
"But to those people you were the outsider. The barbarian from the Plains of Jaspar.
"They opposed you, fought you, dared to call you a greedy upstart, instead of as the savior of all Esmir. Which is how you see yourself."
"But I am, Iraj said. You saw it in the vision."
Safar didn't say he'd never seen such a thing. In the vision Iraj had been a conquering king perched on a white elephant, leading his army toward Zanzair. Whether he was a savior or not was another matter.
"Good, Safar said. I'm glad you believe that. Because that is how you will defeat Manacia."
Iraj's expression was puzzled. He didn't understand.
"The whole human world fears the demons, Safar said. Use that fear against Manacia. Raise your standard, claim all humankind as your clan… and strike him down.
"Before winter set in you faced the prospect of many years of battle to claim Caspan as your realm. Manacia has done your work in less than a season.
"Defeat him and you have the north."
Iraj brightened. And the demonlands, he pointed out. I'll have them as well."
"First we have to cross the Forbidden Desert, Safar cautioned.
Iraj gave a cheery wave. You mean the curse? Hells, I was never worried about that. You'll figure it out when we get there.
"Besides, if Manacia can do it, so can you."
"I'm glad you still have confidence in me, Safar said, again taking a lesson from Coralean and letting a measure of humility leak through.
"As I see it, Safar continued, our greatest danger will be Manacia's magic. It's well know that demons are much more powerful sorcerers than humans."