Lions of Istan

by Fuad Baloch

  A breach.

  Fighting was at its strongest there, most ferocious. Sooner or later, the men that continued in vain to plug the breach would falter. Kinas’s men would pour through. The battle wasn't over yet, but already from her vantage position, she could tell time wasn't on the side that lingered too long.

  She wasn't one to linger.

  If she waited this moment out, she’d lose the chance Rabb had given her to seize control of this great nation and reforge it.

  With a grunt, Nuraya let her hand drop, turned toward the anxious faces gathered in a semicircle around her. A hundred yards behind them, the jawans of her forces were preparing for battle. They polished their weapons, shouted crude war cries, hurled insults at the enemy they hadn't even seen yet.

  Most of them would die before she was finished. Something the mercenary salars knew as surely as she did. Her mother was right that good mercenaries were distinguished on the basis of how many battles they survived instead of won. She didn't care much for whether these men survived or not, but she had to make the best use of them.

  Much like how Kinas had brought elephants to gain an edge, the time had come to make use of all weapons in her arsenal.

  Her eyes fell upon Maharis, the magus struggling to stand straight. He was still conserving his energy, gathering it for when she commanded.

  Time had come to attack without restraint. To unleash the full wrath and fury she possessed, instead of going at it half-hearted.

  Time to wipe out all divides until she stood victorious.

  No matter the cost.

  Wasn’t that what Abba would have done in her place as well?

  She dithered though, doubts racing through her mind.

  No, she decided. Her final option could wait. First, she had to try the conventional way, see if she could inspire her men to a victory without tainting it.

  And if she failed… then, she’d have no other choice left.

  Chapter 37

  Shoki

  Two days of riding after the day he had spied the lights, Shoki found himself standing on a little hill looking out onto a village. The houses were constructed in a manner he assumed was fashionable in northern Kohkam—little wooden huts with walls of different heights, wind breakers angling toward the east. Quaint things from this height. Despite the fact they were all slightly different, they still gave the impression of rigid uniformity.

  Shoki blinked, his bones weary, his mind fatigued by all the experiments he had been carrying out on the road. He was no better at wielding his magic, but at least he could hold on to the raging power longer now. Anything after that, trying to wield it in any useful way was where everything went wrong. A child that could start a fire but had no way of stopping it from getting out of hand.

  His horse snorted, breaking his reverie. A rider was tramping up the hill, his long hair and loose robes flowing out behind him. Shoki would have fled had it not been for the fact that the rider seemed in no hurry to accost him and carried no visible weapons.

  “Greetings of the day upon you,” called out the rider when he was around twenty yards away, his voice imbued with a musical lilt Shoki couldn't quite place.

  “Top of the morning to you too,” replied Shoki, his own voice wary, his one good eye scanning the trees around him in case this was yet another ambush.

  “It’s been some time since we had a visitor.”

  “Oh?” replied Shoki, unsure on how to respond to that.

  “Our humble village is famous for the manner in which we treat our guests.” The man smiled and pointed at the pretty houses down in the valley below. “You look tired. Why don’t you give us a chance to look after you for a bit?”

  Shoki opened his jaw. A thousand good reasons came to his mind on why he shouldn't just walk into a village he knew nothing about. What was the place even called? True the man’s face looked honest, unlined, smooth, the kind young priests often had before they’d spent too much time in service to their gods, yet something within Shoki urged him to flee.

  The smooth-faced man continued to grin, the knowing smile of one who knew his offer of rest would be accepted by the weary traveler. Shoki couldn’t contradict him either. He licked his lips, his stomach cramping in anticipation of a steaming bowl of stew.

  “Some food would be good.”

  The man nodded. “Aye! And a hot bath to go with it.”

  Again, the alarm bells sounded in his mind. Shoki grunted. “That sounds lovely. Positively grand.”

  “Our teas are world famous,” said the man conversationally, the pleasant smile still plastered on his face, his gray horse so still it might have been carved of stone.

  His mouth watering, the mind found it impossible to think right. Even before the disastrous... liaison with the sultana in the middle of the night, he hadn’t had the chance to eat fully. Still, the urge to follow the forms reared its ugly, inconvenient head. Clearing his throat as if he was seriously considering turning down the offer, Shoki took the opportunity to spy their surroundings.

  A most silly thing, really. In the condition he was in, his emotions running wild, his body weary from being on the road for so long without adequate rest, this magic that continued to slip from his grasp almost all the time, he wouldn't have a spied a rabbit out of place, wouldn’t have been able to fend off a ten-year-old boy armed with a broomstick.

  “What’re we waiting for?” Shoki said, clenching his teeth, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake.

  “Follow me, visitor.” The handsome man turned about, his horse trotting smoothly as Shoki’s horse fell into step. Nervous energy bounded through his body at the anticipation of entering the village that lay ahead. A dense weight settled in and grew with each passing second as they entered the village.

  Hooves clapped on the pebbled road, lined with houses that looked just as strange as they had from a distance. The locals all turned to watch them, their smooth, ageless faces split in wide grins as the two rode past. The men wore colorful turbans in a style Shoki hadn't seen before, the folds too voluminous to stay afloat without serious discomfort to the wearer. The women... Shoki felt himself redden as his eyes caught a young maiden’s, the green peshwaz so tight over her ample and most appealing bosom it appeared to have been sewn over her.

  “Greetings,” the men called out in their musical accents. The women waved their pretty, long arms.

  “Top of the morning to you too,” Shoki shouted back. None of them replied, their smiles never wavering for a second. Shoki didn't mind it too much. The inquisitor might have turned him into a disfigured monster, but somehow these people didn’t find it that repulsive.

  They continued to trot deeper into the village proper. Finally, his host pulled in his reins beside the tallest building Shoki had seen so far in the village. A tavern?

  “We stop here,” said his host, pointing at the building. He clicked his heels and rode closer toward the entrance.

  Shoki clicked his own heels. The mare snorted, didn't move. “Oh, come on!” Shoki tried once more, then frustrated, kicked the cursed horse in the belly with all his might.

  “Something the matter?”

  Startled, Shoki looked up. The young man was peering back at him, his lips still peeled back in a grin.

  “Um...” Shoki stammered, desperately trying to think of something, anything to not have one more place where he ended up making a spectacle of himself. “Nothing. Not at all. Just... erm... I think my horse is wearier than me.” He forced an awkward laugh. “You ride them all day, and then forget they too can grow tired.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” said the rider, the unwavering smile growing even wider. “Perhaps, it’s a great coincidence you’ve decided to visit us at this time. We’ve an issue we have been struggling to resolve for quite some time. Perhaps, we can call on your wisdom to offer a way?”

  “My… wisdom?” Shoki laughed. The host grinned right back. Feeling trapped, yet unable to climb his way out of the abyss he could feel but no
t see, he clenched his jaw shut. “Erm... sure.”

  “But first,” said the rider, jumping off his horse just as one of the villagers approached Shoki’s horse, “it’s time for food.”

  Shoki clambered off, ignoring the horse’s neighing. “Time for food,” he agreed happily.

  “...and then we found the lady’s secret thief was none other than the mistress the ameer had been secreting in and out all along!” Shoki laughed, slapping his thigh with the right hand.

  The dozen or so villagers sitting around him laughed. Shoki smiled. What perfect little laughs they had. How easy they were to please. What great company they made.

  He raised another drumstick to his mouth, the juice dripping on his breeches as he bit into it.

  “Love can be a complicated thing, can’t it?” noted one of the men sitting to his right. A most unremarkable face on the surface, yet perfectly symmetrical like the rider he had encountered. Shoki squinted. Could it be they were all distant relatives?

  “Aye,” he said, wincing at the memory of the sultana who had spurned him. “It can be.”

  Two women sitting down on the carpet in front of him exchanged glances. Shoki felt himself blush. Like the men, they too were perfect. Their faces were unlined, skins smooth like babies, their voices soft and sensuous, their bodies well-proportioned, their bosoms heaving as they shifted.

  Shoki reached for the pitcher on the table. Not alcohol, thankfully—for that would be something he might have struggled to hold in—but a red sherbet of sorts, cool in the mouth, pleasantly warm when swallowed.

  Outside, the horses neighed. Shaking his head, Shoki stared out the windows at the dark night. Had he really been sitting all these hours in the tavern eating and drinking and laughing? Then again, when the company was this enjoyable, and the food and drink this light and fluffy, what need did a man have to worry about the passage of time?

  Except, he was meant to worry.

  The sultana was counting on him. More than likely, knowing his history of failures, she would have dispatched more messengers this time around instead of relying just on him, but still he was duty-bound to carry out the mission he had been entrusted with.

  His eyes fell on the brunette with the large brown eyes. Noticing his gaze, she batted her eyelashes at him, and all worries and concerns melted away.

  Shoki exhaled and took another bite from the drumstick. All his life, he had been worried over well, pretty much everything. The past few weeks had been beyond terrifying. There was nothing wrong in taking a break. Anything that took his attention from the deaths of his parents, his eye, the civil war tearing apart the sultanate, the sultana who he both loved and feared in equal measures, was a good thing. A welcome distraction. And the way he looked at it, there was little chance he was going to get another opportunity quite like what was on offer anytime soon.

  If this moment of contentment could be frozen, what more would a man feel the need for?

  The sultana.

  The suddenness of the answer took his breath away. He coughed, threw up bits of chicken he had been chewing for some time.

  No one stirred, none expressed any concern at the sudden outburst.

  Shoki leaned forward, reaching for the sherbet. He drained the glass in one long swallow. Once more, the fit of coughing came over him and he sprayed the girls sitting directly ahead.

  Aghast, he raised a hand. “S-sorry. I am so... sorry.” Tears were gathering in his eyes as he patted his own clothes, his heart thudding in the chest. The time had come where they finally threw him out, realizing he wasn't even capable of controlling his own body.

  His clothes were dry to the touch as if the liquid had somehow missed them. His hosts continue to smile good-naturedly at him, the girls unperturbed by his outburst.

  Oh gods, what is happening to me? Where am I?

  Worry that had been building for some time now resurfaced with a ferocity he could no longer ignore. Something about these surroundings and these people was off. After all, who in their right mind indulged the likes of him who had nothing to offer, and held no station in life?

  He closed his eye. Instead of the blessed darkness he sought, once more he saw Nuraya. Not the sultana she had become, but the carefree princess laughing as she sat surrounded by her friends and the row of eunuchs.

  So much had happened since that eventful day at the diwan-e-aam. What would have happened had he not turned up for duty that day? Or if Salar Ihagra had decided to station him at the main gates as he often did instead of assigning him to the court?

  He shook his head, feeling the ground give a slight shudder underneath him. Whether or not the sherbet felt alcoholic, there had to be some sort of intoxication in the fruity liquid.

  He opened his eye, startled at all the faces looking up at him. Swallowing, he leaned forward. “I... erm... thank you for all your hospitality. You’ve indeed been great hosts!”

  “Our pleasure,” said the rider who had met him outside the village.

  “You know, I don't even know your name,” said Shoki.

  The rider exchanged a glance with a man who could have been his brother. “Doesn't matter. It suffices that you’re our guest and we’re your hosts. There need not be anything more than that.”

  “T-that’s very... gracious of you,” said Shoki. The phantom eye beneath the eye patch twitched, itching like hell. His other eye felt heavy, the eyelid beginning to droop. Again, he shook his head, forcing his mind to remain sharp.

  “We were wondering if you might be able to help us out with the little matter I mentioned on our way in.”

  Shoki nodded. “That little dispute? Sure. Absolutely. Though I must confess I find it hard to believe a people so peaceful as yourselves can ever have a conflict.”

  Again, his hosts exchanged glances, their perfect faces glowing in the flickering lamp lights. Something crawled underneath Shoki’s skin. An inexplicable, terrifying sense of wrongness he still couldn't translate to words.

  He put down the pitcher, the fog in his mind beginning to clear. “How... did you guys escape all the fighting that’s broken out in the province?”

  “We’re hard to find,” replied the rider, the smile back on his face.

  “Are you?” asked Shoki, swallowing. Whatever in the world had he gotten himself into?

  “Do you want to hear our dispute?”

  “Y-yes.”

  The handsome man gestured, and as one, they all rose. Shoki blinked at the suddenness of their movement. The women stepped away, clearing a path toward the center of the tavern he hadn’t been able to see before. A large, dark, smooth stone sat on the wooden floor.

  “This is Hejar, a holy stone for our people,” said the man. “For some time, a long time, it has sat here,” then he pointed to the room to his side, “waiting to be moved there.”

  Shoki cleared his throat, scratched his chin. “Um... why not just pick it up and move it?”

  The man leaned forward, the smile finally fading as if a mask was being pulled off. “Believe it or not, it’s the one thing we can’t agree on. Any one person who picks it up, dishonors the rest.”

  “So... let me get that right. This stone,” said Shoki, pointing at the smooth rock, his words slurring, “needs to go to the other room. But all of you want to pick it up at the same time?”

  “Aye.”

  Shoki leaned back. His skin crawled, the unease an almost palpable stench in the perfect air. He wasn't seeing something quite right. “Um... I don’t know what I can do?”

  The man shook his head. “That’s a shame.”

  “Wait!” Shoki sat upright, feeling the air shift. He looked around again. The perfect faces stared back without hint of emotion, aglow under the light of lamps placed at precise spots. He felt his eyes widen, finally realizing what had been bothering him all along.

  Everything was too perfect. Too precise. The village with its buildings that seemed to serve no purpose. These perfect faces that seemed to do little except smile.


  Not real. None of this was real. No matter what his eye thought it saw, deep within, his heart had been seeing beyond the constraints of vision.

  His breath catching, Shoki looked around him again. Who were these people? Where was he? And... if he failed to do whatever it was they wanted him to do, what would that mean for him?

  “Well?” asked the perfect man.

  Shoki rose, his knees shaking. He reached for the force he’d been feeling, the torrent of power. Nothing. Panicked, he tried again. Failed once more. The woman in front cocked her head to the side, a knowing smile spreading on the beautiful face. Had they done something to him?

  “How about...” Shoki raised a hand, waved at the room, his fingers pointing longingly at the open window offering a view of the outside world.

  “Yes?”

  “The...” Shoki squinted. Something itched in his mind. An intuition. If only he could reach it, grasp it. He jumped. “Aha!” He tramped over to the window, then grabbing the curtain with one hand, yanked it toward him.

  It came down with a ripping noise.

  Shoki cast one forlorn look at the dark world beyond, then walked over to the stone. Placing the curtain flat on the floor, he rested his hands on the stone, tried to lift it.

  The stone was light, cool to the touch, its surface smooth as if a million hands had worn down its coarseness over time. Shoki raised it, then gently placed it in the center of the curtain.

  He turned, beads of sweat flowing down his forehead. “Alright, come over here.” When they’d all formed a circle around him, he stepped out, exhaled. “Each of you grab the fabric, and when I say heave, lift it.”

  “As you say,” replied the perfect man who wasn't really a man.

  Shoki closed his eye, swallowed. “Heave!”

  As one, the villagers lifted the fabric, holding it taut, the stone laid out flat.

  “Follow me,” said Shoki, then trudged toward the other room, just as large and creepy as the one he’d been in. He walked over to the table laid out in the center of the room. When the villagers brought the stone over, he licked his lips, leaned forward, and grabbed the stone.