Lions of Istan

by Fuad Baloch

  Nuraya grinned, feeling the thrill of all this power within her.

  “Call them off,” said Shoki once more.

  “Shut up!”

  When, finally, Maharis stepped away, having gifted strength he had been accumulating for a long time, the other two magi stepped forward.

  The other two magi, Zyadi both, leaned in. The magus with the affinity for metal touched the giant’s sword. It grew to the height of two horses, sparkling so bright it might have been carved of the sun itself. The last magus, one with an affinity for weather pointed his finger casually at the distant ramparts still flying Ahasan’s standard.

  In the distance, dark clouds formed over the city walls. Lightning crackled, followed by a deep, rolling rumble. Horses behind her whinnied.

  She stood tall, relishing the sudden chill running down her spine.

  A roar went up from the men she had readied to rain down on the enemy. The giant thumped his chest, bellowed, the sound so loud it could have been heard all the way in Buzdar. He turned around and began to trudge toward the city wall, into the killing fields.

  Her soldiers shouted, their spirits restored seeing the divine favor, rearing to be loosened.

  She raised her hand, then let it drop.

  A lieutenant shouted at the men and as one they advanced toward Algaria, toward the breach, crying her name.

  Chapter 41

  Shoki

  Shoki stood atop the hill, his eye gazing out at the men still fighting in the distance.

  Hard to believe it had been one whole day and night already since Nuraya gave in to the magi and used them to aid her in battle. More than twenty-four hours of intense fighting as mercenaries of the Sultana’s Hands continued to toil in the killing fields, almost getting through to the breach at one point before being pushed back.

  They had an invincible monster fighting beside them, the never-ending rain atop the ramparts making the enemy’s arrows slick with wet, and still Ahasan had managed to keep both them and Kinas’s men out of the city.

  How was that possible? It was almost like once the enemy forces had gotten past their initial fear of the magically imbued warrior, he’d been downgraded as a fearsome force, one to be avoided, but not enough to break their ranks for.

  Shoki ran a hand through his hair, ignored the wails of a wounded man being dragged back from the battlefield, one hand straining to stop his entrails from spilling out. The other hand rose shakily toward Shoki. “Water... s-someone bring me water.”

  Though he wanted to help, Shoki ignored him, knowing the futility of the gesture.

  His gut knew they were doomed. All of them. The voices were louder, chattering constantly in his mind. No matter her intentions, Nuraya had unleashed monsters worse than those fighting ahead.

  He turned to the left, scanning for the eyeglass. Liaman looked up, whetstone in one hand, then turned away before their eyes could meet. Shoki pursed his lips. Whatever he might have been to these men before, they all feared him now. The one-eyed magus, they called him. A hideous abomination, worthy of fear.

  He scoffed. If he was a magus, he was a pathetic one. One who didn’t understand his power, didn’t know how to use it. And if he was still the city guard, he was an even terrible one, watching his city attacked without moving a muscle.

  Spying the eyeglass, he bent, picking it up with a shaky hand, then lifted it to his eye. He panned over to the breach. Towering above the soldiers gathered from all corners of Istan, the giant with the preternatural strength raised his massive broadsword, brought it down with a force that would have rent a mountain. The arm rose again, this time turning into a whirling tornado that showed no signs of letting up, a never-ending barrage that tore apart limbs and swords and armor.

  A shiver crept into Shoki’s hands and he lowered the eyeglass. Was it him or had the morning breeze whipping against his robes suddenly turned chilly?

  His heart ached with the desire to see Nuraya again, to be in her presence, to remain within her periphery. No good would come from it though. Something had changed within him, his constituent parts shifting, re-ordering. He had defied her already in a way by not walking up to her and offering her help.

  But her orders would be coming in sooner than later.

  Another flash of intuition.

  Would he have the strength to defy her?

  Again, his thoughts drifted to her. She had been up all night, just like him, her shouts clearly audible outside the command tent as members of her council tried to placate her. She had played her trump card, had expected the magi to win her both the battle and the war, but things hadn’t gone the way she had expected.

  Maharis had been inside too, squeaking in his shrill voice punctuated by more shouting, most of the words unintelligible to Shoki listening from a distance.

  Nuraya was fully committed now. After what she’d done, there would be no turning back.

  Shoki closed his eye. Power, pure and cold, coursed through his veins. He trembled, letting the rush wash over him. He still didn't know how to use this source and looking at what the other magi were capable of left him with an overwhelming sense of frustration. An Ajeeb, the djinn magus had called him. One with the power to transform the intent and purpose of things.

  Whatever did that mean?

  Hissing with frustration, he opened his eye.

  And gasped.

  The world brimmed with a metallic tinge. The men in the distance were no longer ants, instead turning to mountains of will and blood and fury. The distant city walls were made of a million constituent parts—stone, mortar, baked clay, all brought together from vast distances, bonded, imbued with the will and intent of their makers to stay together forever.

  Shoki stumbled back, awestruck, overwhelmed. He looked down. The sand beneath his feet teemed with life, potential, each little particle distinct, part of a whole, a whole in itself.

  He blinked, his mind railing against the paradoxes of things that belonged and yet didn't, of forces that actively fought to free themselves even as they struggled to remain integrated.

  A whimper made its way past his clenched teeth. Is that what an Ajeeb magus saw? What happened when he actually wielded his jadu?

  Shoki turned toward the city, toward the men dying in the names of the Istani children. His eye fell on the beast the other magi—his brethren—had created. He recoiled. Instead of the blood and flesh that knitted the other men into form, the giant was a raging furnace. Each second, despite the appearance of indomitable strength, it consumed energy, reservoirs of immense strength gifted by Maharis dwindling, his blade dulling despite the Zyadi magus at a distance working on his behalf.

  Jadu had rules, and costs to pay. Something he’d heard from Niazi and the djinn magus. All magi relied on either the wells they’d saved up, or those they could tap into. Though they might appear all-powerful to the laymen, they had to work constantly to keep their magic in play, while remaining cognizant of their limits.

  What were his limits?

  Shaking his head, Shoki fought down the bile rising in his gut. His eye crossed over to Algaria once more, toward the men who still fought in the shade of the massive walls. He blinked as the scene transformed. The magical beast stood as tall as the walls now, thrashing, smashing bees that floated beside it, its will to destroy as strong as the wall’s will to remain standing.

  Shoki licked his lips, his heart thudding noisily. As he turned back to the wall, he saw a dark figure looming over it. Shoki squinted. The silhouette glided over the wall, seemingly unaffected by the rain. Even as it did that, an even greater darkness gathered strength up in the skies.

  An overwhelming sense of wrongness came over Shoki.

  Shoki howled, fearing what was to happen even before his senses reported it. The dark figure raised a hand toward the men fighting outside the walls, toward the massive giant, his hand stretching out until it hung mere feet away from the warrior.

  Unable to do much, Shoki watched, his tongue feeling bloated, sw
ollen. The bees that were ordinary soldiers continued to flit about as if unaware of what was going on, but already Shoki could see reddish-black blood roiling inside the brute’s body.

  The dark figure, a magus, retracted his hand as if pulling a pail of water from a deep well. Rivers of blood burst from the giant’s eyes, nostrils, ears. When he opened his mouth, more blood gushed out. For long breaths, the giant bled out, massive hands trying to stem the wounds in vain.

  The monster began to shrink. Within seconds, he was indistinguishable from the many others, one more ordinary soldier leaking his lifeblood. Another breath and Shoki could see him no more.

  Revulsion and disgust washed over Shoki and he let go of the jadu. It vanished instantly, leaving him drained, chilled to the core. He raised the eyeglass, trained it toward the breach.

  The beastly soldier no longer towered over the others. Nothing stood out any more. Noting but a formless press of bleeding bodies and snarling faces and punctured limbs.

  Shoki shook his head, sensing the tide of the battle shift. The Sultana’s Hands were retreating again.

  A chill spread through his veins. They had failed because another magus had joined the battle. Shivering, he stepped back. What had begun as a war between three children of the late sultan had now become a war been the magi.

  Wasn’t this what the inquisitors of Kalb were tasked to ensure never happened?

  Another wave of helplessness washed over him. Shouldn’t he be doing something instead of standing motionless?

  Thoughts raced through his mind. When one tried to scare others by setting trees around their camp on fire, they couldn’t control what happened when the winds got out of control. Nuraya might have been the first Istani sibling to use magi in battle, but now she was not the only one.

  The forest fire was raging, and it would only die when it had burned everything in its path.

  News of the rout must have spread for the few men he saw at the camp snapped at each other now. No bluster or boisterous laughter this time. Pale faces who knew they were losing.

  He stuttered over to the tents. An old mercenary, his gray tunic greasy and tattered looked up from the cook pot, his rheumy eyes focusing on him. “How’s the battle going, boy?”

  “Bad,” Shoki whispered.

  “But—” the cook coughed, specks of spit flying into the pot. Before he’d had a chance to resume his questioning, Shoki was walking away.

  Liaman and Deraman stood chatting with each other in the shadow of one of the command tents. The bald mercenary was the first one to look at him. As if emboldened by the company of the other, he sneered. “The one-eyed graces us with his presence!”

  Shoki licked his lips. Before he could respond, the flaps rose and Nuraya walked out.

  Shoki gaped at the young sultana, dressed in a long black peshwaz underneath a dark brown leather vest. She wore a green silk turban, a short sword hanging on her narrow waist. The curtain flap raised once more, and Jinan exited the tent next.

  Hate, jealousy, envy flooded through his heart as Shoki looked at the siphsalar. He fidgeted with his vest, scratched his nose, his eyes darting this way and that.

  Nuraya still hadn't seen him. Wringing her hands, she began pacing outside the tent, Jinan standing a few feet to the side.

  Again, the flaps rose, and two more women exited. Mona… and the queen. Shoki turned back to the sultana, his heart breaking at the pure anguish etched in her features.

  “We cannot fight the magi!” declared Jinan, a hand scratching his chin.

  “No, you cannot,” came the queen’s reply, her voice serene, unruffled.

  Nuraya inclined her chin, then her eyes found Shoki. She came to a stop, a shadow crossing over her face. Then she sauntered over to him, pink lips pursed in a determined line. “Did you see what happened at the wall?”

  Shoki nodded weakly.

  She snapped her fingers. “Well, maybe you saw something others can’t. What happened?”

  “D-death,” he croaked, recalling the dark clouds gathering over the walls and the enemy magus unleashing his abominable magic.

  Nuraya chewed her lower lip, an eyebrow arching. Mona stepped in close behind her. A moment’s hesitation later, the sultana cleared her throat. “They have magi, don’t they?” Shoki nodded and she shook her head. “So, the rumors are true. My brothers fight fire with fire.” She inclined her chin suddenly, her eyes gleaming. “No matter. I have magi of my own. Powerful ones!”

  Shoki shook his head, feeling the gulf between the two of them growing even larger. How was it that despite all that had happened already, she refused to see how it would end if she didn't back down now? “They are powerful, and bursting with energy, their reservoirs full. Maharis and his cohorts are weak now, their strength drained. I doubt they are going to offer help for long.”

  “They... are spent?” asked Jinan, his tone incredulous. “Where in the seven hells does that leave us?”

  No one answered. Again, Shoki shuddered, feeling the urge to flee from human company. A darkness viler than what he had witnessed was fast approaching and he had to get away. A hunch, but one he couldn’t ignore. He looked at Nuraya who scowled back. She was scared, he could tell. Behind the hard facade, wasn’t she a girl not that far apart from him in age? What could he do to help her see the way forward, to turn her away from this madness?

  “Which of my brothers is using the magi?” muttered Nuraya, then she shook her large beautiful face. “How could they stoop to the level of using magi to settle an affair between siblings?” Shoki exhaled, catching the exasperated look of the siphsalar, neither man bringing up the hypocrisy in her words.

  “You expect them to act nobler than you?” asked Queen Aleena with the hint of a scorn in her calm voice. “What were you thinking anyway going about it this way? Scare them into giving up their claims to the Peacock Throne once they saw your misshapen freak parlor trick? When one has a sword, one doesn't wave it in the air. One kills with it without restraint.”

  “Too late for all that, Mother,” said Nuraya, her voice small, quiet, the fight drained from her.

  Shoki’s heart broke. He took an involuntary step forward, his arms spreading to pull her against him. Mona beat him. The lithe girl reached for her friend’s hands, cooing something soft, reassuring.

  Some long, painful breaths later, Nuraya looked up at the sky, her dark skin aglow under the sunlight. “What am I going to do now?”

  “We could… head for the North,” suggested Jinan, then hesitated. “Strengthen our forces before returning next season. Maybe Vishan wasn’t that wrong in his assessment.”

  The queen scoffed. “Who says you’re going to be fighting for her next season when someone else offers to pay you more?”

  Jinan clenched his fingers, ground his jaw, but didn't reply.

  Nuraya exhaled, then the beautiful eyes turned toward him.

  Premonition of what was coming yelled at him to step away, to gather the requisite strength to turn her down. She blinked. “Shoki, are you not going to help your sultana? Help me?”

  “I...” Shoki stammered, took a reflexive step back, unsure on how to answer her.

  “Would you abandon me to my evil brothers? Even if I take Jinan’s advice, flee, what’s stopping Ahasan or Kinas from coming after me?” She shook her head. The hard gaze softened. She sighed, a strange melancholy spreading on her features. “Like it or not, I am forced to make my last stand. Here, and now. Even… if it’s just me.”

  A million excuses and objections and reasons surfaced in Shoki’s mind. They all melted as her eyes found him again. The woman he’d come to love was standing alone. Waiting, and vulnerable.

  What was he to do?

  A volley of arrows whistled overhead and Shoki ducked. His heart hammered inside his chest, the press of men around him suffocating, terrifying.

  Deraman shrieked, hoisting his shield up over their heads. “Gonna be tough, eh?” he grunted, baring his yellow teeth.

  Sho
ki swallowed. They were a mere two hundred or so yards away from the fighting, the shade of the walls almost upon them as the sun hung low on the horizon.

  “Why can’t I ever stand up to something?” muttered Shoki, unsure who he directed the lament to. “Not impossible to say no.”

  “One-eyed, now’s the time to peel away unless you want to engage in close quarters,” shouted Liaman at Shoki’s left. “Got you nice and close to the fighting as the siphsalar asked. Can’t guarantee what happens from here on out.”

  Other mercenaries around him, the last of the Sultana’s Hands, were snarling, raising a roar, thumping their chests now. Men drumming up courage before they entered a battle they knew they might not come out from.

  Blood pounding his ears, Shoki shook his head. Strange that a people as fickle as mercenaries continued to support the sultana’s doomed cause. Defeat looked likely, yet they hadn't run away.

  Why in the worlds was he here though?

  Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee. To get as far away as possible before a stray arrow found its home in his chest. He wouldn't be getting away to save his life, even though that was a major consideration. Getting away would mean not helping Nuraya, something he shouldn't be doing.

  Yet, here he was.

  Shoki swallowed once more. The time for objections had passed. Perhaps, if there was a way to conclude this battle soon, one way or the other, its consequences could be contained.

  “Are you really coming forward with us?” asked Deraman as he stuttered forward, his shield still held up against the oncoming arrows. “If you are, that’d be a real silly thing to do.”

  Gritting his teeth, Shoki offered a terse nod, stepped out of the protective circle of mercenaries.

  “May the gods look after you,” shouted Liaman before turning away. From the corner of his eye, Shoki saw the rotund Rurik thirty paces to the right raise his fist, let out a bloodcurdling shout.