by John Shors
“What failures?”
Boran walked onward, his mind drifting back to a distant time and place. “When I was young…I had a little brother.”
“No, you didn’t. Just sisters.”
“That’s what I told you, but it isn’t true. I had a baby brother. One day I was alone with him on the shore of the Great Lake. The wind was strong, and I was making a fishing spear. My thoughts…were occupied elsewhere…and when I finally looked up…he was in the water. He was gone.”
“Where did he go?”
Boran breathed deeply, trying to steady his voice. “I was responsible for him. And yet…I failed him. He drowned that day. He drowned because of me. And for a long, long time, I didn’t want to go back to the water, didn’t want to pray to Gods who had abandoned me. But then, when you and Prak were born, it felt right to go back. I felt that my brother had returned within you both, and I wanted to show him the lake, because he’d always enjoyed it.”
“You did?”
“And I’m so glad that I returned to the water. When I’m on it, when I see you smiling on it, I know that my brother is also smiling. He’s watching us pull in all those beautiful fish and he’s grinning from dawn to dusk.”
Vibol slowed down. “I can’t imagine…losing Prak.”
“I know. And that’s why I tried to hold you back, to protect you. I couldn’t endure the thought of letting another loved one die.”
Between two tree branches, a large gold and black butterfly struggled to free itself from a spider’s web. Vibol brought his gaze back to his father. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier about your brother?”
“Because I thought you were too young to hear about his death. Now I know that you’re old enough, brave enough. You walked straight into the camp of our enemy, and even though you were caught, you were brave, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“You are? You truly are?”
“Yes, my son,” Boran replied, putting his hand on Vibol’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Because it seems to me that bravery doesn’t lie in the outcome but in the doing. And your actions…they told me…they tell me that my boy has become a man.”
Vibol tried not to smile, but Boran saw the corners of his lips rise.
* * *
At the height of the dry season, when rain and cool breezes were distant memories, crowds of Khmers flocked to Angkor’s community bathing areas. The vast moat teemed with tens of thousands of people throughout the day. Children chased frogs in the shallows. Men lounged in the deeper waters. Women beat clothes against rocks, scrubbed themselves, and spoke in small groups. Chams had started to visit the moat as well, and warriors swam from side to side, racing one another as their officers shouted encouragement.
Standing shoulder deep in the water, Thida, Voisanne, and Chaya huddled together toward the middle of the moat. Nearby, a koi, presumably a gift to a Khmer official from a Chinese diplomat or trader, nibbled around the broad leaves of a lotus flower. As long as Thida’s arm, the koi was gold and white. The creature moved with the grace and dignity of a more revered species, at ease in the water in the same way that an eagle commands the sky.
Thida watched as Chaya climbed on Voisanne’s back, laughing at her older sister. Three weeks earlier, Voisanne had told Thida about Chaya, and Thida had grown used to the sight of the siblings frolicking together. A part of Thida enjoyed watching Voisanne and Chaya playing. Another part of her was jealous of their relationship. It wasn’t fair that Voisanne had Chaya and Asal in her life, two people she cared about.
Most of Thida’s nights were spent with Indravarman. And though he had never beaten her, she remained terrified of him. His inability to locate Jayavar was a constant source of rage, which could boil to the surface in a heartbeat. Thida tried to keep him happy by misleading him, either through her words or her actions. She applauded his wisdom, whispered endearments, and touched him as if he were the father of her children. Thankfully, she never had become pregnant. At least the Gods had been kind to her in that regard.
Indravarman had called for her earlier that day, which surprised her as he was almost always out in the field. She had gone to him, expecting the worst, and was startled to be greeted by a smile. He told her that his spies had discovered groups of Khmers to the north, near an ancient temple. The Khmers seemed to use the temple as a base. Indravarman’s plan was to lead a large contingent of his best warriors into the jungle. The warriors would be accompanied by cooks, blacksmiths, healers, priests, and women. Thida was expected to ride with them. Most Cham officers were taking their wives or concubines. Asal hadn’t asked Voisanne to join him, but, desperate to have her friend beside her, Thida had begged her to go. Voisanne was reluctant to leave her sister, though in the end she had agreed. The force would depart at dawn.
Thida hadn’t spent much time in the jungle and was worried about insects, snakes, scorpions, and predators. Even though she would be surrounded by warriors, the thought of sleeping in the open left her unsettled. She was also afraid that the Chams would find the Khmers and kill them in the manner that Indravarman had described to her—by sticking prisoners with hot spear points until the air reeked with the scent of burned flesh.
If Thida was forced to leave without Voisanne, she wasn’t certain she could face the jungle. But the prospect of having Voisanne beside her slowed the throbbing of her heart, the rasping of her lungs. Voisanne would protect her, would keep her fears at bay.
After Chaya leapt off Voisanne’s back and headed toward the koi, Thida reached for her friend’s hand. “You’re sure that it’s all right to leave Chaya behind?”
“She’s safe here and can attend to her duties. One of Asal’s men will look after her. I’ve met him twice and trust him.”
“How can you trust a Cham?”
Grinning, Voisanne turned away from one of Chaya’s splashes. “Because I trust Asal, and if he vouches for someone, then that’s good enough for me. Besides, I think it’s better to have Chaya here than out in the jungle. The Chams know that she’s his slave. None would dare harm her. And she has nothing to fear from Khmers.”
Thida nodded, squeezing Voisanne’s hand. “Thank you…for agreeing to come with me. I’ve never been deep in the jungle.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Nothing is beautiful…with Indravarman beside me.”
“But he won’t be beside you, Thida. He’ll be out looking for Khmers. I’ll be beside you and there’s nothing that we need fear.”
Thida looked away. “Nothing? You say that because you haven’t heard his boasts about the coming battle. You haven’t heard him say how he’ll capture and torture our people.”
Voisanne called out to Chaya, telling her not to swim too far away. She then turned her attention back to Thida. “What does he say?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me.”
Thida did as Voisanne asked, describing in detail Indravarman’s threats and promises. “He’ll kill them all,” Thida added. “Even the women and children. Because they have all defied him.”
Voisanne looked toward a group of children playing in the shallows. Their laughter carried over the water. “Then we’ll have to warn our countrymen,” she whispered. “I don’t know how, but there must be a way.”
“If Indravarman learns that we’ve—”
“Would you have us do nothing, Thida? When we could save them?”
Thida started to speak but stopped, unsure how to answer. She didn’t want to see her people tortured, but the thought of trying to outsmart Indravarman terrified her. “He has so many spies,” she said. “They tell him everything, and if we make a mistake he’ll skin us like animals. I’ve seen what he does to his enemies, and he’d do even worse to us.”
Voisanne nodded. “Somehow I’ll warn our countrymen. You needn’t worry about it. Pretend that I said nothing.”
“Maybe it’s better…if I don’t know. That way Indravarman won’t see through me.”
&nb
sp; “Fine. That’s just fine, Thida.”
“Thank you. You’re such a good friend. I really don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve to be happy. We all do. And I think that someday…we all will be. I don’t know much about the world, about war and kings. But I think that we’ll be happy again.”
Thida squeezed her friend’s hand again before releasing it. “Go play with your sister. She’s calling for you. I just want to stand here and watch you. Watching you two together makes everything feel normal.”
“I’ll be back.”
Smiling, Thida gazed at Voisanne as she swam into the deeper water. The sisters met, splashed each other, and for a moment Thida forgot about Indravarman.
Then a war elephant trumpeted and Thida’s thoughts darkened. What Voisanne didn’t understand, what she couldn’t fathom, was that no one ever really tricked Indravarman. He let them think that they had. He let Thida think that she had. But in the end, he understood everything. There was a reason why he was the master of two kingdoms, why men feared him and died for him.
Indravarman would find the Khmers. And he would find whoever betrayed him.
* * *
Within the Echo Chamber at Angkor Wat, the evening light was subdued, mostly shielded by the room’s thick walls. Unlike the vast majority of the temple, the Echo Chamber was unadorned with carvings. Simple sandstone blocks had been fitted together and formed a small, rectangular room with a ceiling twenty feet high. Doorways stood at the east and west sides of the room, providing glimpses of the surrounding temple.
Voisanne remembered when her father had taken her to the Echo Chamber and how he had explained its secrets. She smiled at the vision of him holding her, showing her just what to do. He had been a patient man, and it was no surprise to her that his favorite place in all of Angkor was this one.
Grateful that she could now smile at such memories instead of weep over them, Voisanne took Asal’s hand. In the month that had passed since he had freed Chaya, Voisanne had seen him every few days. His duties often carried him outside the city as more and more skirmishes with Khmer forces occurred. Yet when he returned, he always sent for her, and she came quickly to dress his wounds and tell him about her day.
Voisanne and Asal usually met in his room, but on the eve of their departure from Angkor alongside Indravarman’s army, she yearned to bring him somewhere special to her, somewhere that had been a part of her former life. She wouldn’t have wanted to come to the Echo Chamber alone, but with him at her side, she felt at ease. Of course, she still mourned the loss of her loved ones. Yet that loss no longer overwhelmed her. She had Chaya. She had Asal. And she had hope.
“What do you think?” she whispered, squeezing Asal’s hand and looking up to his face.
He studied the chamber. “The rest of Angkor Wat is so beautiful, so extraordinary. What’s so special about these unadorned stones?”
“This is the place where wishes come true. Where the Gods can hear you. And I think they should hear us before we leave their city.”
“How do wishes come true here?”
“Stand with your back pressed against the stone. Then strike your chest with your fist seven times and make your wish.”
Asal stepped back against the sandstone blocks. They were cool against his skin. He looked up at the high walls, which tapered slightly toward the center. His fist struck his chest again and again, producing a sound akin to a large bell ringing in the distance. The sound reverberated, traveling upward, encompassing them with its purity. Entranced by the noise, Asal forgot all about his wish. “It’s magic,” he whispered when the sound had finally faded.
“My father used to take me here,” she replied. “We would listen and wish.”
“How does it work?”
She shrugged. “How does the sun work? Or the stars?”
“And other Khmers? They come here to make wishes?”
“Every day. To wish. To pray. It’s here where we think the Gods can most easily hear us.”
“Then let them hear you, my lady.”
She smiled and then settled against the stonework, keeping her spine straight and shoulders back. After closing her eyes, she struck her chest seven times and listened to the sound of faraway bells. The sound traveled within her, lifting her up, carrying her into another time and place. She wished for peace. Not revenge or bloodshed, but simply peace. If the Chams would leave Angkor, life could be beautiful again.
The Echo Chamber quieted.
Asal shook his head in apparent wonder. “What if, my lady, we wish for something together? Will the Gods be even more likely to hear us?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Then let’s wish for the joy of our loved ones, that they’ve been reborn into better lives.”
Cham and Khmer beat their chests, listened, wished, and smiled.
“I could stand here all night with you, talking to the Gods,” Voisanne said, pleased that Asal was as enchanted as she was.
“You think they listen to us? That they care about us?” he asked.
“Sometimes. But right now…I don’t draw strength from them…but from you.”
“You’re the strong one, my lady, the noble one.”
She squeezed his hand. “When you call me that, I feel warm inside. I smile inside.”
“My lady, my lady, my lady.”
Laughing, she pulled him toward her. “May I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“When I was engaged…I longed for many things. For my lover, of course. But also for a home. And for foolish things like jewels and servants and power.”
“Most people covet such things.”
“But you don’t.”
“No.”
“And no longer do I.” She paused, her pulse quickening as she looked up into his eyes. “Instead…instead I long for you. I tell you that now, in this room, because I hope the Gods will grant me this wish.”
“They already have, my lady.”
She shook her head. “No. They tease me, is all. Because I don’t have you. As long as Indravarman is our master, I don’t have you.”
“But—”
“I want peace, Asal. With peace comes you.”
“He isn’t a man of peace. I’ve seen such hearts, but his bleeds with a darker blood.”
Leaning closer, she pressed her lips against his ear. “Then we shall have to run. When the time is right, we shall have to go.”
“He would hunt us.”
“So we’d live in fear?”
“Yes.”
She thought about an existence in the jungle far from Angkor. “I would rather,” she whispered, “live a short, beautiful life than a long, gray one. And with you, it would be beautiful. Chaya would be with us. We would laugh and touch and be so happy. And even Angkor, with all of its majesty, can’t offer me such things.”
“I would be a fugitive. We would be destitute.”
“It seems to me…that wealth doesn’t offer the joys that freedom does.”
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it. “Then we shall go, when the time is right. But please keep this between us and the Gods.”
Nodding, she started to leave but stopped herself. “Let me make one final wish,” she said, leaning against the wall once again. She struck her chest repeatedly, heard the bells, and silently begged her Gods to listen to her, to let her escape with this man she was growing to love.
The Call of Battle
he Cham force left Angkor shortly after dawn. Three hundred warriors rode on horseback at both the front and rear of the long column. Between them walked two thousand foot soldiers, as well as contingents of slaves, priests, and supply officers. Due to the narrow trails, war elephants weren’t used. Horses pulled carts laden with rice, salted fish, vegetables, weapons, and armor—items needed for the several-days’ journey and looming battle. Scores of wives, concubines, and high-ranking officials rode on carts thick with padding and pillows.
The army’s prese
nce was keenly felt in the jungle. The clink of shield against spear, the groan of wooden wheels announced the coming of men and mayhem. Deer and leopards hurried ahead of the Chams, and flocks of birds rose from nearby trees. Scents of sweat, dung, oiled leather, and perfume lingered.
Near the head of the column, on a massive white stallion, rode Indravarman. Though wisdom dictated that he would be safer in the center of the force, he had always led his men into battle. Behind him were his most trusted officers, each on horseback and dressed for war. Ahead of him were fifteen Cham warriors who hacked at the undergrowth along the trail with long blades, widening the path. The going was methodical, laborious, and yet progress was made. The army slithered forward, deeper into the jungle, heading north toward the Khmers.
Indravarman had informed his officers of his spies’ discovery—that groups of Khmers were gathering in the north near an old temple. These groups were believed to have been joining up for some time, indicating the possibility of a much larger assembly, one likely led by Jayavar. If indeed Jayavar was raising an army near this temple, Indravarman wanted to annihilate him without mercy, and so he marched from Angkor with a formidable force.
The Khmers would likely be slowed by children, as well as by the sick and old. Though the Cham army moved without haste, speed could be employed when necessary. Mounted warriors could charge forward at a moment’s notice. Large contingents of Khmers would lack such abilities, and the Chams were confident that heads would be taken. In fact, wagers were being made as to who would kill Jayavar and collect the bounty that Indravarman had placed upon him.
Asal had been on dozens of similar expeditions and was used to the way that men spoke about upcoming battles, with swagger and bravado. It was usually the youngest warriors who did the most bragging. And they would be the first to cringe and weep when blades opened bellies, when horses fell in thrashing, tangled messes of hooves and mud. In any real battle that pitted equal foes against one another, most of the young would die through their own rashness, timidity, or inexperience. A few would survive, and days or weeks or months later, when their next battle approached, most of these men would remain silent in anticipation of the slaughter and suffering to come.