The Broken Winds: Divided Sultanate: Book 3

by Baloch, Fuad

  “Get into formation!” Salar Ihagra boomed and Shoki jerked his head toward him. Years melted away from the old salar’s face as he grinned at the men and women he had been tasked to lead. It didn't matter where the soldiers had been trained, or whether they were magi or inquisitors who’d never held a sword before. They all looked up at the salar. Salar Ihagra righted his brass helmet, took out his sword, and kissed the sharp edge. The air rang out with the sound of metal as other soldiers followed suit.

  Salar Ihagra had never been one for grandiose speeches or other such displays. He raised his sword, then barked, “March!”

  And just like that, seven thousand horses and infantrymen broke into a determined march, breaking into columns of three as they took the narrow road that led through wetland and marshes and the Zakhanan border to Sehlour.

  Shoki stood there for a long moment, watching his army depart. He had a fast mare, and once he took to road, he’d catch up with the main host easily enough. But like the ship’s captain staying on until everyone else had disembarked first—one more lesson he had learned from the Kur’shi merchants in the Mercantile Quarter in his past life—he’d be the last one to leave.

  Two score men were taking down the last of the tents, the train of a dozen mules and squat horses already packed up and ready for the march. Two of the men stood outside a tent that hadn't been taken down yet. They were arguing, unable to get through the ravishing woman who blocked their way.

  Smiling, Shoki shuffled over. “Men, leave Jiza alone. If she wishes to stay, she’d most welcome to do so.”

  “Oh, I’m coming,” Jiza snapped right back, then waved a pointed finger at the men. “Give him a minute.”

  “Him?” Shoki inquired, furrowing his brows.

  The curtain flap rose, and a tall figure shambled out. Shoki felt his eye widen as Kafayos, the djinn who had been his captor in Nainwa, blinked under the strengthening sunlight, his bare torso covered in bloody bandages, his long hair tied back in an unruly ponytail.

  “Kafayos…” Shoki whispered.

  Somehow, Kafayos heard him, despite the cacophony. “You!”

  The two stepped toward each other, but then Jiza was between them, both hands raised as if to keep them back. “Halt, both of you.”

  Shoki stopped, then blinked. “What happened to you?”

  “Your wretched world did this to me.”

  “Kafayos fought with the ghouls,” Jiza said. “He gained consciousness half an hour ago and just finished giving us an account of how his battle with them went.” Kafayos dropped his gaze.

  “They… did that to you?” Shoki asked, feeling a stab of panic rising within him.

  Kafayos didn't respond.

  “Shoki, the ghouls aren’t going to be easy to push back. Kafayos also saw a woman magus there. By his description, she could be Naila.”

  “Naila,” Shoki repeated slowly. He didn’t like what he was hearing. If Naila was at the castle, then they had to re-evaluate their tactics. Not that they could face one Ajeeb magus as it was anyway. He turned around, waving his arm about to call for a guard to send after Salar Ihagra.

  “I’m coming with, Jiza,” Kafayos growled behind him. “I’m not finished yet.”

  “But—” she tried objecting.

  “Shoki, I ride with you.”

  Without turning around to face the djinn, Shoki nodded slowly.

  Chapter 40

  Nuraya

  Ghouls spread out as far as her eyes could see. Nuraya blinked, taking a reflexive step back to take refuge behind the trees. She stopped, forcing herself to stand tall and proud. She’d faced them before, even if their numbers had been lesser then, even if they hadn’t been carrying tall broadswords and maces like they did now.

  Anyway, she was downwind, close enough to breathe in their stink. So long as she kept out of sight, they wouldn't see her.

  Nuraya inclined her chin at the castle, the pain in her blistering feet forgotten for the moment. She had spent many nights in the castle, trying and failing to break free. When she’d finally fled the castle with the aid of the djinn, the castle had looked a dark specter in night, looming even as she put distance between them, its maw threatening to suck her back in.

  In broad daylight, it was a common enough castle. Turrets and towers crisscrossed the breadth of the battlements looking down from stone walls fifteen yards tall. Instead of the minarets that were a hallmark of the Istani architecture, the four towers that stood at opposite ends of the keep were short and squat, ringed with more perches for archers. An old Zakhanan style that had lost favor even in Yom.

  The walls were crumbling though, and she could see through into the inner courtyard. Was that always the case, or was it because of the manner in which the djinn had smashed their way into the castle?

  What did it matter?

  Concentrate. Nuraya turned her gaze about. Hundreds of ghouls lumbered along the castle perimeter. When she’d looked down at the barren patch of land around the castle from her dungeon, it had been bereft of either living or nonliving things. Now, at places, the press of ghouls was so thick she couldn't even see the ground.

  What were they doing? More importantly, did that signify that the man she sought was inside?

  Nuraya felt a flicker of fear. A long time ago, she had willingly walked into the trap that the magus had set for her along with her brother, never realizing she was doing exactly what the magus had wanted. Was she doing the same here as well? Meeting the magus’s objectives? He had needed her for some blood ritual. She had managed to escape before he could carry that out.

  Now, though, she was back.

  No, she swore. She might be back here, but instead of falling back into the lap of her enemy, she was here to snuff out whatever unholy form of existence he was living at the moment. Wasn’t that what Mara felt too? Well, he could hesitate all he wanted. She would take care of matters on her own.

  And what if it all goes wrong? What if you get caught?

  Nuraya exhaled, touching the dagger she had shoved within her peshwaz. If that were to happen, then she would do what she’d done to the other children of the Iron Sultan. Never again would she be taken a captive. Not so long as she breathed.

  What had happened to Vhali? Was she still within the castle at this moment? Had her master punished her, taken her to task for failing to stop Nuraya from escaping? She recalled the Zakhanan maid pointing at the corridor that led out when she had tried to escape. Nuraya hadn’t listened to her, instead taking a different route.

  More thoughts flooded through her. What was that artifact she had grabbed? Nuraya shook her head. She was tarrying, allowing the passage of time to weaken her resolve. It didn’t matter how she got her power—just that she had it.

  Her eyes fell on the ghouls once more. What were the chances that the ghoul she had attacked was out there in this crowd as well? Would it recognize her?

  I will kill all of you!

  These ghouls were a curse she wouldn't tolerate, not even on Zakhanan soil. By the Unseen God, she was Nuraya Istan, the rightful Keeper of the Divide. It was her duty to ensure that monstrosities like these never got to roam the lands that Rabb had promised them all.

  Nuraya stepped back into the trees and closed her eyes. She could feel the presence beyond the walls growing stronger as she did so, almost as if it knew that she was trying to seize her jadu that could sever its well and still urging her on.

  Why would that be? Surely, that made no—

  Her power rushed into her, setting her body tingling.

  Nuraya grinned, then opened her eyes. She had no idea if other magi felt the same as she did when draped in this glow, or if there were other ways of better calling and controlling these powers. It didn't matter. She was a magus. Just as she had always thought.

  Afrasiab, you’re going to pay for your sins!

  She reached out toward the ghouls, toward the vile abominations that had no right to live. She encountered… nothing. Like running one’s f
ingers through thin air. Again and again, she tried to reach whatever powered these beings and failed.

  Doesn’t matter.

  Nuraya extended her reach, feeling for the walls, then allowing herself to permeate them and into the castle proper. She had no idea how she did that, only that she willed it and the jadu responded instinctively. That too, felt wrong. If she had powers similar to the inquisitors, wouldn’t that have required her to have proximity?

  She found the magus within. Or rather the well surrounding, binding him.

  Nuraya balked at what she faced.

  She had found the well, that much was true, but that wasn’t quite the right term to make sense of it. An ocean, so huge and vast that her mind failed to comprehend it. Currents ran under currents under currents, all smashing into each other, changing direction so fast she couldn’t focus. Lightning crackled within in a riot of bright colors, blinding her if she concentrated.

  Fear crept into her. How did one capture an entire ocean in a bottle? When she had reached out to Kafayos, it had been like grasping the beating heart of a beast. Slippery, hard, but something she could deal with. What faced her here was surely beyond anyone’s ability.

  Her control slipped, her thoughts drifting, the spots of darkness closing in.

  “No!” She tried once more. The enormity of what she faced dwarfed her strength. Shaking her head, summoning her fortitude, she tried once more, this time not letting the fear take over her resolve.

  She dipped her fingers into the raging ocean.

  Nothing happened at first, her reach like an owl flying in the dark of a silent night.

  Then, the dark spots howled, breaking into a feverish dance. She screamed as pain pounded at her temples, her knees buckling under her weight. A hydra of myths, the sea creature with a thousand heads, thrashed within her brain.

  She persisted.

  The spots became an ocean, boiling, evaporating. Then, it rose, a massive tidal surge rising and rising until it covered her vision in a dark blanket of lightning and thunder. It towered for a breath.

  Then, it smashed into her.

  Jadu leaked from her.

  Whimpering, Nuraya fell on her knees. She tried reaching for her jadu once more but failed. Have I… burned myself out? She shook her head. There was another alternative, of course. Maybe, she had reached her limits and had to replenish herself for the meantime.

  She had no idea what that rest needed to look like. She didn’t care. She had all the time in the world. Once more, she wondered about the nature of magic that had been surrounding the magus. Surrounding the magus. Not within the magus. What did that mean?

  Hearing a buzz in the air, she tensed. A din was growing to her right. She cocked her head to the side, waiting with bated breath. Were these phantom sensations? One of those setbacks that afflicted magi who had burned themselves out temporarily?

  No, those weren't figments of her imagination.

  Voices. Snorts of horses mixing with braying camels and asses. The clatter of metal. Trumpets.

  An army was approaching. Fast.

  Her heart beating fast, Nuraya turned to her right and began running toward it. She cast her head over once to look at the ghouls. If they could hear what she did, they didn't seem bothered in the least. Not something that surprised her. What was dead already didn’t fear the warnings of death.

  When the voices grew loud enough that she couldn't hear her own muttering, she stopped and looked around. Then, she began climbing the neem tree to her left. Not particularly tall, but easier to climb than the trees she’d practiced on as a girl in the Shahi Qilla.

  Holding onto the slippery trunk with her right hand, the left grabbing the branch overhead for balance, she turned toward the voices.

  She was right about the army. A teeming mill of thousands of riders on horsebacks and camels. They wore differing armors and their lines lacked the discipline she’d seen in forces who had fought together for a while. But they looked disciplined enough, marching in a vanguard formation she’d seen her Istani siphsalars use a hundred times before.

  Her eyes fell on the pennant the soldiers in the front were waving. The same sigil she’d seen from a distance before.

  She knew the sigil. She’d seen it in history texts.

  Sigil of the Malik kings.

  She felt her blood boil.

  Shoki was here.

  Shoki Malik.

  Chapter 41

  Shoki

  “We are ready,” Salar Ihagra reported when Shoki rode up to join him at the front. “The ghouls don’t seem particular worried by our approach, but that could change soon enough.”

  Shoki bit his lower lip. “If Kafayos is right, then this won’t be easy.”

  “No battle is ever easy.”

  That much was true, and Shoki didn't dispute it. “We need to rethink tactics.”

  Salar Ihagra grunted. “Based on what the scouts report, the ground on the other three sides is still muddy from the sodding eastern rains. If we try to fight there, we’d be digging the graves of our men and horses.” He looked up at the sky. “The good weather might hold for a few more hours. Yes, this is where we marshal our forces.”

  “What are you thinking, Salar?”

  Salar Ihagra scratched his cheek. Despite the hard march, he hadn't seemed to lose any of his alertness, nor did the specter of battle seemed to rattle him as much as it did Shoki. “The ghouls like sticking close to the castle. If what your… djinn friend says is correct, then the closer they remain to the castle, the easier they are to marshal.”

  “Ah,” said Shoki. “You intend to draw them out?”

  “That would give us several advantages. Spread them about, bring our archers into the mix, and ensure we get a good idea of how they operate before we commit our forces to the mix.”

  Shoki nodded, then turned his head around. The soldiers of his army grinned when their eyes met his. They weren't really his soldiers if one discounted the mere thousand pledged by Chahar Rahane in his name, but for the moment, they obeyed his commands, looked up at him to bear the burden of their command.

  A heavy burden, indeed.

  Shoki swept his gaze. The horses were exhausted, their necks lathered with sweat, but the riders all seemed restless, their swords unsheathed already, their lips curled into sneers. He caught sight of Jiza and Kafayos standing to the side of the main host, along with the two little parties of inquisitors and magi. Both djinn were talking to each other, unaware that Shoki was watching them. He felt a pang in his heart, seeing in Kafayos’s manner toward Jiza a bit of what he had felt for Nuraya. Did Jiza know? Did she have any idea of how he felt toward her?

  Had Nuraya ever known the depth of his feelings for her?

  “Battles are nasty business,” Salar Ihagra was muttering. “Easy enough to plan, and start, but when they break out, impossible to control. I need a command post.” He turned around in his saddle, then shook his head. “Damned cursed wetlands. Not a single hill in sight. That’s alright. A dozen relay men should take care of the fog of war. Imperative that we do it right…”

  Shoki let the words wash over him, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He was here. After all these weeks of cajoling and planning, he was finally here. He turned his gaze toward the castle’s towers that jutted out above the trees. Was Afrasiab there, this very moment? Was he expecting them? Of course he was! Even if he didn’t have any scouts or spies of his own, something Shoki very much doubted, the magus seemed to have the ability to penetrate his dreams and—

  Shouting had broken out. Blinking, Shoki whipped his head around.

  “Stop them!” Salar Ihagra bellowed. “This very moment!”

  The men behind them roared. More ripples of shouting spread, then everyone was screaming.

  “What’s going on?” Shoki demanded, turning around left and right, but not quite seeing what the problem was. His eye found the pennant flying his sigil in front. Moving away! “They’ve broken ranks.”

&nb
sp; “Cursed Nikhtun bastards. Never patient for anything,” Salar Ihagra snarled. “Stay back!” He whipped his horse and galloped forward, shouting at the top of his voice for the men to return, to wait for his order.

  The men were thundering all around. Those behind Shoki began riding forward, their swords unleashed, their eyes determined.

  “No!” Shoki shouted, waving his arm. “Step back! Wait for the call!”

  “For honor!” shouted one of the dark-skinned soldiers, wearing the mark of a patedar from the Eastern Realm and dressed in the uniform of the ameer of Nishapa, his loud voice cutting through the din.

  “For honor!” roared the men.

  “For the realm!” he shouted once more.

  “For the realm!” the men shouted, now surging past Shoki, his meek protestations making no difference. Shoki slapped his thigh in disgust. The salar had warned against this very thing. They had one advantage, starting out the battle on their own terms, but it seemed like even that had been squandered.

  “For the Malik king!” roared the patedar once more.

  “For the Malik king!” the men replied.

  Shoki blinked, taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the voices. They weren't his men, something he’d understood well enough. Mercenaries and loaned men who would return to their masters once this battle was done. Men that he would have to fight for afterward. But in that moment, it seemed that the press of the battle, the weight of the moment had forged them into a singular body. Dimly, he wondered whether Chahar Rahane had anticipated this, using the summit to cement Shoki’s claim for the Peacock Throne.

  He shook his head. None of that mattered.

  They were here. And the battle had begun.

  He turned his head toward the magi and inquisitors. They, too, were marching ahead, keeping behind the soldiers. Inquisitor Aboor stayed in front, marshaling both inquisitors and magi. The inquisitor had been a patedar once as well, Shoki recalled. First through the breach at Kohkam. He had a bad leg, but the inquisitor didn't seem in the least bogged down by it.