by Samit Basu
‘Do they have to die?’
‘It is but a matter of time.’
‘Then as a last request from a former servant, Zivran, let them live. Let them return to the world and spend their last troubled days there.’
‘Are You sure You would not prefer Me to turn them into something symbolic? A tree? We could always use a new kind of tree. Or a giant rock in some ocean.’
‘Let them be. Let them live. And let them remember the unwaba that was, that betrayed them before the end. And let them not trust in gods again.’
‘I do not think there is much danger of that happening. Very well. They may live.’
‘They will think all this was just a trick I played on them to bring me to you.’
‘And whether they will be right is something I need not know, and You will soon not remember.’
‘They will try and stop the Game.’
‘Let them try. No one will believe their accounts of what they have seen and heard here. When they ate the eggs of the safat, they lost their minds.’
The lights died in Kirin’s and Maya’s eyes, and the room began to dissolve around them. The unwaba looked at them with what might have been an expression of infinite regret. It is difficult to read the face of a chameleon.
Chapter Two
From the war journals of Eridon the ravian
- I write this in the middle of Danh-Gem’s Wasteland, a stinking, foul place I should never have had to set foot on. King Zibeb renamed it the Fields of Hope Renewed after today’s victory; there was an interminable council meeting where all our beloved heroes got to brag about how many rakshases they had gutted. I looked suitably thrilled, so they had no idea how much trouble I went through to conceal my disdain as I looked at their faces, so grave, so noble, so terribly annoying, and wondered if I could pass the time by tearing my head off and trying to balance it on my fingertips.
- I should really destroy this journal; if they find it, they will execute me on the spot. But I can’t help myself; I do need someone to talk to since Agegi died, and I cannot trust anyone here.
- I am exhausted; I suppose battles tend to have that effect on those participating in them. Even though I spent most of my time on the field making sure I looked like a hero and then stepping back, usually to let Satorin or some other lout do the actual work, I feel more than a little fatigued. A warrior’s life is so tiresome. The sweating, the persistent bodily odours, the endless shouting and jumping. I was simply not born for this.
- Or perhaps I was. Nenses the Seer told me my stars show I will rise to be a great hero, that I will be among those who topple the Dark Tower. Of course, what Lady Nenses really wants to See is more of me; she is just looking for a way to make Zibeb jealous. I don’t blame her. We all expected him to marry her eventually, and his wedding to the human shocked everyone.
- My men are singing songs of hope and victory outside. For ravians, they are remarkably stupid. I suppose they will be very brave and resolute when asked to participate in the next stage of this war.
- I have to admit that I was very impressed by the sight of all Zibeb’s champions united on the battlefield. This was, after all, my first real battle; teasing rakshases in the woods for Satorin to kill does not really count. Satorin did me great honour today, apparently: He said we could ‘draw our swords together’ for the next battle. I’m not entirely sure what that involves.
- I like Dark Lord Kirin. He kept Zibeb waiting for a really long time before turning up. The leaders of House Aegos claim he is half ravian, the son of Danh-Gem and Isara, which sounds like an outrageous lie. Or perhaps this Dark Lord slew Narak’s son and assumed his form; whatever the truth is, everything about his manner and bearing screamed rakshas today. House Aegos will, of course, say anything to make Esmi look bad. Zibeb will regret this in time; his army is weakened considerably by the defection of the Esmi and Hanash leaders.
- Not that we are short of heroes. I am, I hear, one of them, and will have to work my way up a tediously long list. It is a good thing, however, that I am beginning my political career in a time of war, as many future opponents will be disposed of even without my direct intervention.
- A fairly large number of heroes, of course, are already accounted for. Myrdak, Peori and Behrim are dead, and so are Zibeb’s Riders, slain by dragons over Kol. It is fitting that they met so dramatic an end; all their lives, the air around them had been distressingly full of exclamation marks. The archer Ikoche of Hanash, Peori’s friend, had decided not to join her clan in exile, but must have changed her mind or been devoured by rakshases at some point, because she is no longer with us.
- I might as well make a list of the champions who rank higher than me at this point. If this journal is found and I lose my swollen head for treason, they might as well know what I, Eridon the Brave, Dashing Young Hope of New Asroye, thought of them. These, then, are New Asroye’s most important names. I hope to scratch them out, one by one.
King Zibeb. House Aegos. Very, very clever. Completely ruthless. I do not know how he can be overthrown, and it will take me years, but there is no need to hurry. Perhaps the Dark Lord will do the honours for me.
Nenses the Seer. House Aegos. They say she outshines even Lady Isara of old, but then they also say, now, that Isara destroyed the old Dark Tower out of guilt. Be that as it may, Nenses is our most powerful mage. Watching her remove the red rakshas mist and bring in a new dawn was quite exciting. She has her eye on me already, and is lonely. This is an opportunity. She will not leave Zibeb easily, though. Let us see what can be done about that.
Satorin. House Akked, my own beloved house. Satorin the Invincible. Satorin the Lone Wolf. Satorin promised my father he would guard me all his life. He will make a useful ally, because he is easily the most skilled warrior we have. Some say he is better than Myrdak ever was and did not achieve that much prominence because he never sought power. More fool him, then. Still, he is discreet, reliable, and likes travelling too much to want a seat of power. And he loves me as the son he never had, the son he would have had if he had not spent so much of his time ‘training’ strong young ravian men in the arts of war.
Dalmaan, House Nergol, mage-priest of the Black Star, trickster, politician, strategist, rogue. Deadly on the battlefield and in the war councils. Has a sense of humour, and is not afraid to use it. If we lose this war, Dalmaan will find a way to escape, to rebuild the ravian nation and ensure its eventual victory. If I am ever to seize power, I will have go through him; a sobering thought. I cannot risk his displeasure now, and he will suspect me if I let even a tiny part of my ambition show. Dangerous. I am sure he will make a bid for power after this war. Perhaps I should help him.
- How fortunate we are to be long-lived! We can change allegiances whenever we want.
- The fact that I am much more handsome than Dalmaan does console me slightly.
Orro ‘Earthshaker’. House Nergol. Dalmaan’s cousin. They have nothing whatsoever in common. Orro is widely seen as Myrdak’s successor as Zibeb’s greatest champion on the field. He is fifth on my list, though, because he has no brain. This helps him tremendously on the battlefield, but renders him remarkably easy to manipulate outside it. Carries an enchanted warhammer that weighs more than I do. Uses it to shake the earth, and I wonder whether that has anything to do with his nickname. He is gruff and reticent in the beginning, but on closer acquaintance one might discover that he is also uncouth, violent and unhygienic. He is sometimes useful, though: I once teased a rakshas when Orro was nearby, and watched the resulting brawl from the relative safety of a tree. The rakshas was named Akab and was quite famous, as rakshases go. I was hoping he and Orro would eliminate each other and I could gain some fame out of the affair, but Orro rather pig-headedly refused to die even when the rakshas had torn half his face off. Instead, he reached inside Akab’s chest, pulled out his heart and ate it. A charming sight. Satorin is the only one among us who has any chance of overcoming him in a fight. I have tried to put this theory to t
he test a few times, but Satorin has always stayed out of Orro’s way.
- There are others on the list, not as worthy as these five, but included mostly because it would be discourteous to exclude them.
Tekdash the healer. House Aegos. Coarse, jovial axeman, always ready with a quick, unfunny quip guaranteed to raise morale, and a quick, utterly humourless double-handed axe-swing guaranteed to lower enemy morale. Claims to save as many as he slays, which does not make much sense. There is much I could learn from him - he knows the herbs and power-stones of this land better than any other. He seems to be a genuinely pleasant fellow, but I will not hold that against him. If he survives this war, he may govern a province or two under my command.
Lord Degin. House Hanash. Sailor, swordsman and statesman, who chose to fight under the Aegos banner to avenge the death of his daughter, Peori. Trusted adviser to the king. He thinks I have a bright future, and has told me several times that his daughter had said she was fond of me. I am aware of this; Peori was very fond of me at least thrice a week during our first year at the Academy, before Myrdak came to teach us swordplay and distracted her.
Ashnen the Wise. House Akked. Veteran of many ages and countless wars, was among those who built the original Asroye and fought in all its wars. Universally respected and loved, and protected on the battlefield by Tekdash or Dalmaan. Loves me as a son or grandson. It is amazing that he is still alive; I give him two or three more battles at most. He drools in his sleep and breaks wind constantly.
General Froyan. House Akked. Why is King Zibeb’s right hand so low on the list? Because he is stodgy and inconsequential, and owes his position to the fact that he threatens no one. I see no reason to remove him from his post; he is an excellent administrator and has a very attractive daughter.
- I cannot be bothered to add more names to the list. I hope to have crossed out at least three names here by the time the Dark Tower falls.
- I suppose I should provide some form of record of today’s battle for posterity’s sake. King Zibeb said our victory marked the dawn of a New Age for Obiyalis. He also said this when he entered the portal, when he married the human Maya and when he captured the akashraths. No doubt he will say it again when the Dark Tower falls.
- Speaking of Maya, she looked most fetching today in red armour. We were all looking at Zibeb with suitably sympathetic expressions when she appeared, and I am sure I was not the only one present who had to suppress a strong urge to guffaw. If I had had the misfortune to have ‘fallen in love’ with a woman who not only ran away an hour after our wedding but then consorted with my deadliest enemy, I would have encouraged my armies to capture her and then killed her in interesting ways. But King Zibeb, it seems, is prepared to love with Obiyalis with all its imperfections and seemed to have extended the same philosophy to his troubled bride. Queen Maya has officially been placed under some dark enchantment that makes her forget who she is.
- Looking back, I find I have not written about the royal wedding; I had not started this journal then, of course. I should note, however, that I was one of the last people to see our new queen before she escaped from Asroye, leaving the bodies of blameless soldiers and the poor dear king’s broken heart behind her.
- I still do not know the story of their courtship; no one in New Asroye discusses it. From what little I know, it seems that the noble Myrdak had persuaded Lady Maya to come with him to Asroye, probably using a fine mixture of deception and violence, and had left her there before starting out on what would, luckily for all of us, be his final journey. Be that as it may, I arrived in New Asroye on the day of the wedding itself, and spent most of the day trying to buy dress robes of suitable magnificence; I had nothing to wear to a royal wedding, and neither did most of New Asroye’s newly arrived nobles – no one had expected this wedding, of course, and it is safe to say that the happiest people in the city at the time were the tailors.
- The bride was demure and silent all through the ceremony, a face that was appreciated by all present. The king’s decision to marry a human was always going to matter enough for heated debate. I had heard that human women were vulgar and odorous; on meeting the Lady Maya I realized that was true, and inexplicably addictive. I myself have ‘gone native’ several times since then, taking care to leave no evidence.
- The grandeur of the occasion had overcome Maya slightly, I remember thinking; her face was gaunt and pale, and her eyes slightly clouded over. She swayed slightly as she stood at the altar. Perhaps the priests had placed some calming enchantments on her to ensure she did not embarrass the king in any way during the ceremony. Immediately after the exchange of vows and rings and the sealing of the marriage, she had asked to be excused; the wine, she said, was stronger than what she was accustomed to and her human body had reacted to it in unfortunate ways. I suspected immediately that something was afoot.
- Truth be told, I had no idea anything was afoot, because I was busy gnashing my teeth in appreciation at Zibeb’s low cunning. Not only had he freed himself from the ordeal of waking up next to Nenses, but now humans, and specifically magicians, would no longer have any reason to oppose ravian rule. Not that they could have prevented it had they expressed violent opposition, but a lot of time and lives would be saved this way, which Zibeb seemed to see as a good thing.
- I realized in a while that my sense of general disquiet had been supplemented by a feeling of physical discomfort – a little nausea is common among those who are not used to portal travel – so I excused myself as well. On the way to the privy, I began to feel a sense of nearby danger that had nothing to do with my churning innards, so I walked faster, and as I opened the door to the central privy I saw a most interesting scenario. The two nurses who had been assigned to help Queen Maya in all matters feminine were sprawled out on the stone floor, their necks broken, their faces severely burned. There was a horrible stench of singed flesh and hair in the room. And the queen was nowhere to be seen.
- Sensing an escape attempt, and roundly delighted at this turn of events, I raced out of the privy, to see the queen perched in a most undignified manner on a windowsill at the far end of the corridor. Our eyes met, and she threw me an enraged, hurt, bewildered look I found most thrilling. She was probably trying to come up with some sort of foolish plan to injure me, but I stopped her with a wink and a finger to the lips, and pointed out a nearby door that would give her access to the stables. She was charmingly confused by this, and I took the opportunity to inform her that the price for my assistance would be a little queenly affection. She responded with fiery passion. In the form of a large and inconvenient ball of fire that narrowly missed me, and an air-based explosive spell that did not. When I recovered, I learned that she had killed at least three royal guards on her way out.
- I tried to catch her eye today; I was right in front on the right flank, and I think she saw me, but she didn’t seem to recognize me. If Zibeb manages to win her back, things should be interesting. She didn’t seem very responsive to him today, it must be said. When Zibeb asked Kirin to return his wife, the Dark Couple looked very disconcerted, but chose to deprive us of further entertainment by teleporting – a power that Maya seems to have acquired recently, and one that would have helped her considerably in new Asroye – and promptly beginning the battle.
- There were no dragons. I wonder why that is. Has Kol bought them? It is not that I particularly wanted to meet them on the battlefield, but this means that all those tedious weeks we spent devising psychic harpoons have gone to waste. Perhaps they await us at the Dark Tower, because Kirin clearly did not send his elite troops into battle today. But a force as mobile and effective as a dragon army should not be left idle at any stage. If the dragons do not turn up to fight us, however, our relief will greatly exceed our disappointment at not knowing why.
- King Zibeb had instructed us, in many interminable councils held in New Asroye and Vrihataranya, that it was essential that we conceal our tactics from the Dark Lord as long as possible. This left m
e somewhat puzzled, as I fail to see the point of developing better ways of fighting wars if we do not use them in wars. And Orro Earthshaker, of all people, voiced this concern. We had two hundred years’ advantage over the rakshases when it came to fighting experience, Zibeb said, and he wanted to make sure we used our more advanced manouevres at times when we were sure their impact would be deadliest, so that the rakshases would not have any time to prepare counter-tactics. Fair enough. They were bound to know that we had at least one Ravian Star with us that could destroy the Dark Tower; what they could not imagine was that we had seven. Orro was in favour of using at least one Ravian Star at our first encounter, but the king and Froyan rejected his proposal, possibly on the grounds that it was Orro’s idea, and Orro, lacking a brain, was in no position to have ideas.
- Zibeb’s tactical brilliance did not stop there. He was actually open to the possibility that the rakshases might have spent a few minutes thinking up new battle plans over the last two centuries. The first encounter, he said, was our best chance to assess the extent of Kirin’s tactical abilities, and that was why we had acquired the churls along the way, for the warriors of Imokoi to display their skills on. And here I was thinking they were just there to hang things on. General Froyan added that the first army we met would mostly consist of asurs and other dispensable fighters, and would be used, in turn, by the Dark Lord to assess our battle strategies. This was why we had fought the rakshases of Vrihataranya the old-fashioned way, and would not help our humans while they were butchered in Imokoi. Which meant that both sides were bringing large numbers of warriors to sacrifice in the hope of learning tactics they knew would not be revealed. Perhaps this would make sense if I were drunk.