“When you declare war on the Law, you’ll never lack for enemies.” Ashok hadn’t meant to give offense. Keta may have been delusional, but his delusions had integrity. Calling Keta’s honesty into question was a terrible insult. He dipped his head. “I didn’t intend to endanger either of you. I’ll try to do better in the future.”
“We should leave before the local warriors find their courage and come looking,” Keta muttered as he went to the stall holding their oxen. Something else was bothering the Keeper as well, but he must have not wanted to speak of it in front of Ashok.
“Leave them. The wagon’s too slow,” Thera said. “The ground is iced-over now, but it’ll be nothing but mud in a few hours and the wagon will be useless. We’ve got to make distance before word spreads. Let’s take their horses.”
“Good idea,” Keta said as he went to a different gate.
“That would be stealing,” Ashok pointed out.
Thera was incredulous. “You inconsistent bastard, one minute you’re beating workers senseless in front of hundreds of witnesses and the next you won’t steal a horse!”
“That was different.”
“Just when I’m beginning to think there’s actually a normal person lurking inside of there, you have to go and prove me wrong.” She sighed. “What if we consider our abandoned wagon a trade? The value of the goods inside far outweighs the value of these sad excuses for ponies. Does that work?”
That was actually a very pragmatic and just solution. “Very well.” He slid off the back of the wagon and white hot pain slapped the soles of his feet. Ashok ignored it.
“I wouldn’t worry about the warriors too much. I saw their barracks when I was scouting last night. It’s tiny. There are probably only a handful of them in the whole village. They’re not going to cross that sword.” Not that Thera was arguing against leaving, since she’d already gone about stealing a local’s saddle. “I’m more worried they’ll be riding to tell the Somsak we’re here to try and collect that bounty.”
A sudden discomforting sensation moved down his spine, causing an involuntary shiver. Angruvadal was warning him of an impending threat. The sword could sense far more than he could, so Ashok went to the barn doors and peered outside. He couldn’t see anything yet, but when he focused, called upon the Heart, and laid his hand on the wall he felt the vibration of hundreds of distant hoof beats thrumming through his palm. “We’re in danger.”
“What is it?” Keta joined him at the door.
“Horses.” They were coming down the mountain like an avalanche. He nodded toward the west.
“That’s the route to the old Somsak house,” Thera said. “There’s no way a messenger made it there and back so fast, especially not in this weather. Must be a random patrol.”
“That’s no patrol.” There were so many hoof beats he couldn’t even calculate how many of them there were. “It’s an army.”
It was their doom.
“A raid on the way to Vadal?” Keta asked hopefully.
“Regardless, when they’re told I’m here, they will strike.” Angruvadal was warning him there were far too many to fight at once. A direct confrontation would likely result in his death. Ashok turned to his companions. They were looking at him wide-eyed and fearful. Everyone in Lok had heard the stories about Somsak depravity. Even the Protectors respected the mountain folk for their brutal thoroughness. As he concentrated, the sword was helping him calculate the speed, direction, and numbers of the threat. For a thing with no eyes or ears, it always seemed to have an excellent grasp of what was going on around it. Small groups of horsemen had broken off, and from the echoes on the canyon walls, they were taking the high ground. Anyone fleeing the village would be spotted and intercepted. “No…They’re not passing through. They’re spreading out. Jharlang is their objective.”
“Come on!” Thera rushed to the wall and desperately began pulling dusty leather tack from the hooks and tossing them on the straw at Keta’s feet. “We’ve got to hurry.”
She had no way of knowing that her actions were futile. There was no way out. Ashok knew he could fight his way through, then he could likely evade pursuit on foot by sticking to the roughest terrain possible, but the other two would slow him down too much. They couldn’t follow where he could go. To have any chance at all he would need to abandon them. Only the villagers knew Ashok wasn’t travelling alone, and Thera and Keta were outsiders. If they hid, the Somsak would go door to door until they were found. No one would claim or hide them. They would be caught, questioned, tortured, and executed.
“There is no escape,” Ashok stated.
Keta rushed to the wagon and pulled out a meat cleaver that had been hidden beneath the driver’s bench. “We’ll fight!”
Ashok glanced at the cleaver and raised an eyebrow. “If it comes down to you using that against a few hundred Somsak, Keeper, better to cut your own throat with it than to let them take you alive.”
Keta was terrified as the bleak reality of the situation took hold. “What do we do?”
For them? There was nothing they could do. For him? Escape, evade, and live to fulfill his orders. It was cruel, but Angruvadal’s calculations were never wrong. There was no option for victory, only retreat or dying in a futile defiant gesture. Ashok threw the barn door open. The path was open before him.
Damn it…He was a man without fear, but not entirely without conscience. Dying was easy. Failing was hard.
“I am sorry,” he said.
The Grand Inquisitor had spoken for the judges, and their orders were more important than any handful of lives. His guides would perish, but Ashok would find another way to complete his mission. He always did. Logically, he should have as much loyalty to a criminal and a fanatic as they did to the Law. The Capitol’s demands outweighed any personal feelings he had. His entire existence meant doing that which was expected of him. Any other time in his life, the decision would have already been made, but the last year had left him broken, his foundation cracked.
Ashok looked back at his companions. Keta was still scrambling, trying to think of something, but Thera was watching him, almost detached. Like she understood exactly what was coming. Their eyes met, and she knew the truth. There was no time to explain that he had to put his mission first, or to apologize for abandoning them. She was strong, raised in the warrior caste, so she would understand. Relentless death was coming for them and Ashok wouldn’t be there to stop it.
Ashok turned away.
“Do what you have to do,” Thera whispered. “We’ll find a way to survive without you.” She was enough of a survivor that she may have even believed her own words. He took a step, but couldn’t bring himself to take another.
The choice was clear, obedience or rebellion.
Ashok’s hands curled into fists. That morning he had rashly chosen mercy over the Law, but it had been in a heated moment, without thought. Now with perfect clarity, he faced two paths.
This time, I do not obey.
Decision made, he spoke quickly. “Listen carefully. I’ll challenge the warriors. Wait until they’re all concentrating on me, then ride.”
Unaware that Ashok had just made the most selfish, and selfless, decision of his entire life, Keta kept saddling the horses. Thera however, understood what was going through Ashok’s head and approached him. “You can’t protect everyone.”
“See to your duty and guard the Keeper.” He began walking toward the sound of hooves.
She grabbed onto his coat sleeve to stop him. “You’ll die.” She actually sounded like she cared.
“More than likely.” He was one of the greatest combatants in the world, but Angruvadal was telling him that these numbers were too many, the odds too drastic. Death was certain. But was that truly a bad thing? Better to end it now than to drag out Omand’s terrible punishment. It had felt good to tell the villagers his name. “I should have died a long time ago.”
“What about your mission? What about finding the prophet?”
Ashok didn’t look back.
Chapter 43
At first the villagers of Jharlang had mistaken them for raiders from another house. It was an understandable error. At most, these workers had met a few Somsak at a time when they’d come to collect their rightful taxes. It had been generations since Jharlang had seen so many Somsak at once, and those had been raiders, in the days before the savage mountain people had been defeated and made vassals to a bunch of farmers. How were they supposed to know the hundreds of terrifying warriors rapidly converging on their little village were of their same house? They’d meant no insult when they’d fled across their frozen fields.
Only Nadan Somsak didn’t see it that way. He took offense, and he was not the sort of man you wanted to give offense to.
A few Thao warriors from the tiny local garrison were brought forward, and shoved down in front of the line of stamping horses. The Somsak were truly frightening when they rode to battle, dressed in dyed furs and crow feathers tied over their gleaming mail. “Where is the fallen?” Nadan Somsak demanded. His words were nothing but a hissing whisper because of his new demon tongue. “Where is Ashok Vadal?”
“I don’t know, mighty Thakoor.” Oh, how they recognized him now.
Nadan made a growling noise that reverberated inside his helmet. Wrong answer. He lifted his powerful crossbow. The bolt was so quick that it was almost as if feathers sprouted from the warrior’s eye socket. It only pierced the side of his brain so death wasn’t immediate. He rolled onto his back, grasping at the shaft, kicking and screaming as he tried to pluck it from his head. Nadan passed the crossbow over to one of his men so it could be reloaded. The Somsak crossbows were unwieldy things that required a lever to draw back, but they were extremely powerful. “Where is he?”
The next Thao warrior in line wasn’t eager to die. ”Last I saw he was at the bridge, defending the casteless quarter.”
“If you knew it was the fallen, why didn’t you capture him?” Nadan asked as one of his soldiers passed him another loaded crossbow. The Somsak’s horse stomped nervously as blood stink hit its nostrils.
The warrior was choking on the words, struggling to get them out in time. “He drew that magic sword, Thakoor.” He hesitated, probably trying to think of a response that wouldn’t incriminate him as a coward. His eyes flicked over to his thrashing compatriot. “We had no—”
Since his head was turned to look at his dying companion, Nadan shot that one through the ear canal. This time death was instantaneous.
Sikasso shook his head at the display. Theoretically they were of the same house, and the Thao were of higher status, but the tattooed mountain thugs didn’t see it that way, not today at least. Perhaps it was the boiling hatred that came from the demon blood now coursing through Nadan’s veins, or perhaps he was just always that much of a barbarian at heart, but Sikasso could already tell that the day would end in slaughter.
“Ashok defends the untouchables here. All he defends, I will destroy. Fourth paltan, burn the casteless quarter. Kill them all. Third, search the worker’s homes in case this coward was incorrect. The rest will remain with me. As soon as he is found, alert me,” Nadan ordered as he was presented another loaded crossbow. “Go.”
His damaged tongue didn’t carry his words far, but his officers repeated them down the line until the units broke off, riding through the icy lanes. The majority of the Somsak remained just outside the village, ready to swoop in the moment their target was seen. Sikasso noted that Nadan had sent off the unseasoned and restless youths to cause trouble, while keeping the obviously experienced veterans close. A wise move. He watched the warriors. Most of them seemed ready for a fight, almost as eager as their Thakoor. There was a lot of stored aggression in these mountains, and for too long the Somsak had been vassals to a house that they secretly considered to be their inferiors. Before they’d ridden forth, Nadan had addressed his officers, speaking of how it was time for them to gain a new ancestor blade and become a great house again. They had heard their Thakoor’s new voice and thought it was a miracle. At Sikasso’s suggestion, he’d not let them see his face.
Most were thankful for this miracle. Sikasso had noticed a lot of superstitious glances in his direction. Not all of the Somsak were bloodthirsty fools, and the observant already sensed that there was something seriously wrong about their Thakoor. No matter how great Nadan was in battle, once they discovered the truth of their leader’s miraculous healing, there would be violence. Even the most pragmatic warriors would never accept a Thakoor tainted by forbidden demon magic. If Sikasso was going to be among these people, he’d have to watch his back, because it was easier to lash out at the wizard who’d corrupted your Thakoor than the beloved and extremely deadly man himself, but he doubted their alliance would last long enough for it to be an issue. The wizards of the Lost House were already perched like falcons in the rocks above, ready to swoop in and secure the sword. Whatever Somsak were left when Ashok was done with them, his men would dispose of, and then the Lost House could disappear back into myth and legend where they belonged.
There was quite a bit of screaming coming from the workers’ homes. Apparently to the Somsak the command search was a synonym for rape and pillage. Thankfully the warrior who’d been shot in the eye had quit his crying and bled to death. The horses were agitated and Sikasso had to struggle to control his mount. Even the hardy mountain animals were struggling on this ice. They’d been in such a hurry to get here that one rider had tumbled over a cliff, and there’d been a few other slips, crashes, and broken legs, but most of them had made it. Their horses were such an agile breed that the Somsak must have crossed them with mountain goats, but they still weren’t real war horses, trained to crash into combat, so the smells and noises were frightening them. He got the animal calmed down and went back to surveying the humble village.
Once he had a moment to collect himself Sikasso began to feel a vibrant energy in the air. There was strong magic here. At first he thought it had to be Angruvadal, but there was something else, something different. He’d been near Angruvadal before, and while it was truly a masterpiece, this was an entirely new sensation. It was very different than demon and didn’t feel quite like black steel. It was unlike any magic he’d ever felt before, and it was so powerful it made the hairs on his arms stand up.
There was something strange going on in Jharlang, and Sikasso vowed to get to the bottom of it. As soon as he could slip away, he’d inform his wizards to search for whatever was causing that sensation. What luck. He’d come here for Angruvadal, but if they could capture it along with something else…Sikasso grinned at the thought. That morning he’d thought of his men as addicts, and there was nothing more exciting to an addict than a new drug.
Nadan Somsak was eyeing the village. His helmet was an armored bucket with vision slits and elk antlers, which was good, because Sikasso wasn’t sure how his flesh would react as the demon took it over. Nadan put his hands on the helmet and began to lift. “I would caution you against taking that off, Thakoor,” the wizard said.
“My throat burns. My guts churn. All I can taste is metal.”
“It takes time for my magic to work. You will look like your old self soon enough, but right now, your appearance may be unsettling to your men.” In truth, Sikasso wasn’t sure what it was going to do to him. Every man’s reaction was different when the demon got into their blood. Usually it took a day or two before the user became too hideous to pass for human, but for someone who barely qualified as human to begin with, perhaps the transformation would go much quicker.
“What have you done to me?”
“I’ve given you the strength to crush Ashok Vadal like a bug.”
Chapter 44
Ashok walked around the corner of a
house and right into a group of Somsak. They were distracted by all of the screaming and carrying on as panicked workers were being dragged outside and their homes looted. They were violating the Law concerning the conduct of a raid, acting as criminals. Good. That made this much easier for him.
The first one he killed never even knew Ashok was there. There was a black flash and then a severed head was rolling through the snow. The head hit another Somsak in the foot. He looked down, saw his companion’s face, and then promptly lost his own. Ashok slid past, gutting a third, then spun and removed the arm from a fourth. That last one began to scream.
Several warriors turned toward him at once. Ashok stood there, black blade dripping, as the bodies collapsed around him.
“I am here.”
He had never been gifted with subtlety.
Bellowing, they lifted their weapons and rushed forward. Ashok stepped into them, turning aside steel and parting flesh in return. With Angruvadal whispering how to move, where to place his body, and warning him of incoming threats that he couldn’t even see, the Somsak weren’t just fighting Ashok, who on his own was one of the greatest swordsmen to ever live, they were fighting every man who’d ever wielded Angruvadal, and it showed in the bloody results.
Ashok parried, dodged, leaping side to side, until he was in the middle of the pack, and then he went to work. Every movement resulted in serious injury as Angruvadal split chain and cleaved through bones. Angruvadal didn’t cut like sharpened steel, but like a bolt of lightning blasting a tree into splinters. Warriors stumbled away, missing limbs or gushing blood, crying for help, or to be avenged, or for their mothers.
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