Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles)

by Melvin, Jim

  In a bizarre state of calmness, he thought, “This is what it feels like to fly. Makes me wish I was a dracool.”

  Then his momentary reverie was broken. Hands as large as shields plucked him from the air and laid him down on hard, black stone. Someone removed his helm. A diverse assortment of faces stared at him. A proud woman wiped his brow with a cool cloth, stunning Augustus with her gentleness. Water was offered. He drank, choked, then greedily drank more. But even as he did, his stomach burned. Something was wrong inside. He was damaged.

  “Your name, sir,” came a respectful voice. Augustus looked into the eyes of a handsome but elderly gentleman with ebony skin and long white hair.

  “Auh . . . Auh . . . gustus,” he managed through a haze of swollen pain.

  “Welcome to Nissaya,” the man said. “I am King Henepola the Tenth. With regret, I must report that you are our prisoner, but you will be treated with respect as long as you do not attempt to harm anyone within my walls.”

  “I . . . don’t understand,” Augustus mumbled.

  The king laughed. “Sir, we do not expect you to comprehend us. Perhaps one day you will come to see our methods. But I must ask you a few questions before you are taken to a place of comfort. Are you injured so badly that you cannot answer?”

  “I am . . . not sure. But I will try.”

  “Very good. Solve this mystery, then. Why are the golden soldiers being treated so poorly? What does Mala gain from this?”

  When Augustus chuckled, blood gurgled in his throat and spilled from the corners of his lips. “Your guess . . . is as good . . . as mine.”

  Without further warning, Augustus mercifully succumbed to darkness.

  3

  WHEN AYA AND the weary Tugars finally arrived at the oasis named Wuul, Rati and Kithar greeted them. By midnight, they and the other warriors had cleaned up, eaten, and gathered around several small fires, while the noble ones slept off to the side, under heavy guard.

  “What now, Asēkha?” Aya said, sipping from a skin of Beydoo wine. To the Tugar, the wine tasted watery but refreshing. “Including the noble ones, we number close to nine hundred. That’s a lot of mouths to feed.”

  Rati chuckled. “That shows you just how exhausted I am by my duties as escort. Normally I would be driven to learn our exact count, but I’m too tired right now to bother. Still, I don’t intend to make light of your concern. It appears we have only two choices: Remain here and wait for aid from Anna; or gather supplies and attempt the march.”

  “With most of our warriors divided between Nissaya and Jivita, there is food aplenty in Anna. In Wuul, we would have to share with many others, unless we forced them to leave, which is not our way.”

  “Neither is it our way to bow our heads and do as we are told. The Beydoos will do anything within their power to assist us. Most of the others are not so cooperative, but they owe us favors. Since it is likely Anna has already sent aid, I believe our wisest course will be to remain in Wuul for a few days, at least. I don’t think the noble ones could tolerate an immediate march. As we both know, a lot of sand lies between here and Anna.”

  Aya agreed. Then he lowered his head and grimaced. Rati was amazed to see tears on the warrior’s cheeks.

  “I lost fifteen.”

  Rati leaned over and placed his hand on Aya’s shoulder. “You did what you could. This is war, after all.”

  “If you had been with us, fewer would have fallen.”

  “Your sorrow is understandable, Aya. But your words lack merit. The plan was sound. And though fifteen fell, all the others were saved. Your warriors could not have fought much longer. You had no choice but to attempt the destruction of the pass.”

  Aya’s blue eyes glistened in the firelight.

  “If only The Torgon were here. He would have defeated the fiends all by himself. His strength is needed in Tējo, not in faraway lands.”

  “His people miss him. I miss him,” Rati agreed. “But as our Vasi masters like to say, we have to play with the cards we are dealt.”

  Aya grunted. “My master claims to have made that one up himself.”

  Whether out of mirth or just relief, both laughed so loud that several dozen Tugars woke from sound sleeps.

  TO ASSIST RATI and the noble ones, Asēkha-Dvipa allowed his son Appam to take ten warriors, one Vasi master, and thirty camels laden with supplies from Anna to Wuul. At the same time that Aya’s warriors were doing battle with the army of fiends, Appam and his small company journeyed southwest with as much water, wine, and food as the camels could manage. The overloaded beasts moved slowly, snorting and spitting as their hooves bit into the crusty sand.

  On the second night since departing the Tent City, the refugees began to appear, fleeing eastward from things born of their worst nightmares. Most approached the Tugars and begged for food and water. But there were too many. Eventually Appam was forced to refuse them even a sip, realizing he was sentencing some to death.

  “Go south to Wuul,” he told them, but many did not listen.

  Rumors of a fiend grown to titanic proportions had increasingly disturbed Appam. At first the warrior discounted these stories as panicked ramblings, but after a while he began to give them credence. Too many different people described the same thing: a hideous woman, more deadly than a Kojin, with a mouth large enough to swallow a grown man whole. Appam’s desire to learn the truth became obsessive.

  “Does this giant truly exist?” he said to the Vasi master during a predawn breakfast.

  “Of course it exists,” the master said, surprising the warrior with his casual response. “Even so, we are commanded to reach Rati and the noble ones as quickly as possible.”

  “That can still be achieved, if one short,” Appam said.

  “Who will you send?”

  “Myself, of course.”

  “Leaving me in charge? And to think I had hoped this venture would be relaxing. There’s no rest for the weary, I like to say.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “If you encounter the giant, what will you do?”

  “Kill it. Do you think me incapable?”

  “If you are incapable, then so are all but a few.”

  Though he felt guilty for abandoning his original assignment, Appam left the company and set out westward with two skins of water and a belt-packet of food. Along the way, he encountered hundreds of refugees. At first he asked many if they had seen the giant; only a few said yes, but enough to further convince him of its existence and whereabouts. But before, during, and after answering questions, the refugees begged for food and water. Eventually he found himself hiding to avoid their heart-wrenching pleas. He had enough provisions to last a few days, but only for himself.

  Near dawn of the following morning, he crossed over a dune and came face to face with a fiend, the first of its kind he had ever seen. But this was no female colossus. Instead, a man of ordinary size stumbled toward him, his left arm appearing to have been bitten off above the elbow. At the base of a dune, Appam studied the fiend for a spell, circling the monster while easily avoiding his lunges. When Appam felt he had learned enough about his enemy, he stepped forward with his right foot and made a lateral cut to the midsection. Steaming intestines, swarming with black, wiggly worms, spilled onto the sand. Though the monster was slowed, it kept on coming until Appam finally cut him clean in half with an even more powerful stroke.

  As if in response to the killing, Appam heard screaming beyond another tall dune. He trotted to its crest and stood slack-jawed. In the middle of a level area far beneath him, a monster as large as a Kojin was pursuing a lone woman. Despite its enormous size, the beast was fast, gaining ground on its prey with every stride. But the size and speed were not what stunned Appam; instead, it was the giant’s face that disturbed him. Though discolored and bloated, it remained barely recognizable as Sister Tathagata, whom the high-ranking warrior had guarded at the havens for several months.

  Having left Tathagata and Asēkha-Tāseti soon after reach
ing the mesa, Appam knew nothing of what had occurred to the High Nun and other noble ones. Now he stood on the crest of the dune and stared, unable to move, his mind racing through a myriad of possibilities. Had the fiend army somehow attacked Tāseti and the noble ones? That didn’t seem possible; it could not have traveled that far south that quickly. Were rogue individuals spread all over the Gray Plains? Appam could not fathom it. But when the terrified woman screamed and stumbled, Appam overcame his daze and started down the dune, shrieking as he ran in hopes of distracting the monster from its prey.

  This tactic saved the woman’s life, but not for the reason Appam might have imagined. Upon hearing his shouts, the fiend came to a halt just a pace from the woman, turned toward the Tugar, and smiled. Appam’s heart froze. The monster bizarrely resembled the smile of the one he so fondly remembered.

  Ignoring the woman, the giant strode toward him, fangs glistening. Appam drew his uttara and prepared for a fight.

  A quarter-mile farther west, a small group of what appeared to be more fiends stumbled toward them, but Appam paid these others little heed. If they died as easily as the first one he had encountered, they would present little problem. But the giant that approached was another matter. She was at least twice his height and four times his weight; yet despite her gargantuan size, she moved on the surface of the sand with eerie fluidity. As the sun crept above the horizon, a wave of heat rushed over the sands. Appam began to sweat profusely, though he wasn’t sure what was more to blame: the temperature or his horrific opponent.

  The giant came within ten ordinary paces—though only two of her own—and stopped. Thick strands of drool dangled from the corners of her bulbous lips. An odor, fouler than rotted flesh, caused Appam to gag. The giant smiled again, eerily resembling a blown-up version of the High Nun of Dibbu-Loka.

  “I do not fear you,” Appam said loudly, “but neither do I wish to harm you. Do you remember me, Perfect One? I am Appam of the Tugars, keeper of the havens. Often we spoke. Often we laughed. Always I respected you.”

  Within the more-obvious lust and anger, an expression of puzzlement emerged on the giant’s face. Without warning, she screamed so intensely that Appam took a step back. Then the fiend placed her huge hands against the sides of her skull and pressed with tremendous force. A grotesque assortment of growls, cackles, sobs, and shouts came from her mouth, as if more than one being resided inside her head. Then the cacophony abruptly stopped, and he shuddered as the monster whispered, “Appam . . . flee.”

  THE EAR CANAL was cramped, greasy, and wretched. The moth incarnation of Vedana felt right at home. To coerce the fiend into doing her bidding, the demon alternated sweet whispers with barked commands.

  Still, without Peta around to refresh her memory, Vedana was having a difficult time keeping track of the proper sequence of events. Appam’s appearance erased her doubts. Vedana remembered precisely that this desert warrior was to be the first Tugar victim. Once he was devoured, the evil that resided in Sister Tathagata’s flesh would grow irresistibly strong. After that, Vedana’s lone remaining duty would be to guide the giant to Anna. The fiend would take it from there.

  However, Vedana continued to find it disconcerting that Peta had remained uncertain about what would happen once Tathagata reached the Tent City. The Simōōn already would have been lowered, that much was clear, but once Anna was under assault, what then? There appeared to be several potential scenarios.

  “If you’re keeping the truth from me, there will be severe consequences,” Vedana had said to the ghost-child.

  “I’m not lying, I’m just unsure,” Peta had replied. “Lately, it’s happening more and more. Regardless, what does it really matter?”

  “I want the Tugars weakened . . . more than weakened . . . decimated! You know that as well as I. Why do you ask such stupid questions?”

  “Won’t what happens at Nissaya and Jivita be enough to satisfy you?”

  “I’ll say what’s enough!”

  Still, Peta had been correct when she said that the destruction of Anna was just an added bonus. And to be honest, Vedana was having fun. What could be better than a front-row seat to carnage? Like grandmother, like grandson, Vedana mused. Invictus would enjoy this too. Though the irony is, he’s so wrapped up in Bhayatupa and Mala, he’s unaware any of this is happening.

  Speaking of fun, Sister Tathagata’s constant nagging was anything but. No matter how hard Vedana tried, she couldn’t stop the High Nun from making occasional appearances. Everything Tathagata said from her hidey-hole deep inside the fiend’s splattered consciousness irritated Vedana.

  “If you do not care for others, who will take care of you?”

  “Shut up!”

  “If you harm another being, it is the same as harming yourself.”

  “Shut up!”

  Each time these inner debates occurred, the beast clenched her skull. But Vedana was not alone in her attempt to eliminate the remnants of Tathagata’s sanity. The collective will of the undines that swarmed within the High Nun’s flesh also wanted her to keep quiet, making it easier to tap into her mental library for their own benefit.

  And now, the means to silence Tathagata, once and for all, stood just a few paces away. Once Appam’s flesh was devoured, the fiend would be unstoppable. Despite all this, the annoying nun refused to relent.

  “Appam . . . flee!” she managed to force her mouth to say.

  Vedana could sense that, ironically, Tathagata was closer than ever to achieving enlightenment. But a maelstrom surrounded the High Nun, rendering her awareness impotent.

  Vedana found this hysterical. At times, existence could be so sweet.

  “I CANNOT,” APPAM said to the giant. “It is not in my nature to retreat from danger. Still, I will take no pleasure in being the instrument of your death—though perhaps I should, for your misery will be relieved.”

  The monster snarled. Whatever sanity had surfaced seemed to vanish. At that moment, Appam knew that he was in a life-or-death struggle in which neither side could afford to show mercy. With a short inhale and exhale, Appam calmed his mind. There was no fear in his stance, only a grudging respect for the might of the creature he was about to fight.

  With another snarl the fiend pounded forward, its massive hands outstretched. It closed the gap with amazing quickness. Appam was barely able to avoid its attack, moving sideways but delivering a slashing cut above the creature’s knee before sliding out of reach. Where the ultra-sharp blade met Tathagata’s distended flesh, an explosion of black ensued, as if a small portion of the Realm of the Undead was unleashed into the living world. Nocuous smoke billowed outward, a trace of it searing Appam’s eyes, temporarily blinding him.

  Now in a defensive mode, he sheathed his sword and cartwheeled across the sand, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the giant. When he finally stood, his vision remained blurred, but at least he could discern the outline of shapes.

  “Appam . . . flee!”

  He heard the words again, but this time they were said in a mocking tone. The giant approached again, heedless of the wound on its leg. Appam wiped at his eyes, attempting to clear his vision. Even without sight, he was formidable. When the fiend attacked again, he raised his uttara above his head, drove the point into the monster’s abdomen, twisted the blade, and ripped it out sideways.

  The giant howled, but another gout of smoke blew outward, knocking Appam off his feet and sending him tumbling head over heels. Now he truly was blind, and before he could stand, the monster leapt upon him, lifting him with hands far stronger than anything he had ever encountered. His arms were pinned to his sides, eliminating the threat of his uttara.

  Though his vision was gone, his other senses were on high alert. He felt the searing heat of Tathagata’s breath as the wicked mouth closed around his head, neck, and upper torso. He screamed as the fangs tore through his flesh.

  Appam’s last thought: A Tugar cannot be harmed like this.

  As hi
s upper body tore away, his karma leapt into the quiet of death.

  The warrior was no longer.

  To him, at least, it no longer mattered.

  OF ALL THE horrors Asēkha-Tāseti had experienced over the past several weeks, nothing disturbed her as much as this. She knelt in the sand and stared at the uttara in disbelief, tears dripping from her eyes and splashing on the shiny blade. Tugarian swords were never willingly abandoned. And the other signs were even worse: red stains and black worms in the sand, and the remnants of footprints as wide as her shoulders leading northeastward in the direction of Anna.

  Though uttaras were similar in appearance to the untrained eye, each was distinctive to a Tugar. This one had belonged to Appam, son of Asēkha-Dvipa.

  Other than the blood, nothing remained of the Tugarian warrior. Had he been lifted and carried away? Tāseti didn’t believe it. What she suspected caused her to wretch.

  “What is it, Tāseti?” Nimm asked worriedly from her perch on the camel’s back. “It’s just a sword. Why are you so sad?”

  Nimm’s innocence caused Tāseti further torment. In her long life, she had never felt such despair. To make matters worse, they were almost out of food and water. And the camel, which had not been in the greatest of shape to begin with, was nearing the end of its endurance. How ironic it would be if the three of them died in the desert without ever encountering the monster whose footsteps they had so dutifully followed?

  “What is it?” the little girl said again.

  The camel coughed, blood spraying from its nostrils. Tāseti began to sob.

  “Who is that?” she heard Nimm say, but Tāseti paid little attention. All she could concentrate on was the exquisite workmanship of the uttara’s handle.