by Astrid Amara
“I don’t feel like a man with a mission from God,” Keshan said quietly. “I don’t even feel like a man. I feel dead inside. Heartbroken.”
“What you feel right now will pass,” Jandu assured him. “It can’t change who you really are.”
“But if I am truly doing God’s work, then why does this hurt so badly? Why couldn’t I have protected you better?”
Jandu leaned forward and kissed Keshan’s cold lips. “You have saved my life, and my honor,” Jandu said with conviction. “You and I are destined to be together.”
Keshan leaned into Jandu’s shoulder. Their shadows flickered against the tree limbs. Jandu waited for Keshan to find his inspiration again.
For a moment, Jandu thought Keshan had fallen asleep. There was no sound from him, no movement. His face was buried into Jandu’s neck. Jandu’s arm muscles strained in such an extended position, and there was a twig or a rock cutting into his thigh, making him want to move. But he stayed there, waiting.
Finally, Keshan sniffed. “Remember when we were last in this forest?”
Jandu smiled. “That was the most exciting night of my life.”
“I was a different person then.” Keshan sounded sad.
“Me too.” Jandu sighed. “But that doesn’t change what we set out to do back then. You wanted justice. I wanted vengeance against my cousin. And here, at Terashu Field, we will have both.”
Keshan looked up then. Lines of exhaustion creased his face. “I’m so sorry, Jandu. For everything.”
“Don’t be.”
Keshan sighed. “What will we do now?”
Jandu was silent for a long time before answering.
“My whole life, I’ve been told to do one thing—to support my king, my brother, and I have done that.” Jandu poked at the fire with a stick. “I’ve been through too much in the last three years to let anyone, even Yudar, stray me from my path. Yudar will be king and he will fulfill his oath to restore your caste or I will kill him myself.”
A flicker of light suddenly appeared behind Keshan. Jandu jumped up, unsheathing his sword.
In silence, the ethereal glow moved closer. The light surrounded their camp, coming in from all sides, small pinpricks at first, growing larger.
For one irrational moment, Jandu thought Yudar had told the army that Jandu was an invert and they had formed a mob to kill him. But as the eerie blue light expanded, it took on the vague shape of men and women, marching towards them, surrounding their camp and standing still, as if on guard.
“What’s going on?” Jandu whispered to Keshan.
Keshan stood as well. He narrowed his eyes. “Yashvas.”
Suddenly, one of the lights burst into their world, so brightly that Jandu had to shield his eyes with his hand. He heard Keshan drop to his knees beside him.
“King Mendraz!” Keshan said.
Jandu dropped to his knees as well, peeking through his fingers at the demon as his glow lessened. In the human world, he was still painfully bright, especially in the heavy darkness of the forest.
“King Mendraz,” Jandu mumbled, lowering his head further. “You honor us with your presence.”
“Rise, Jandu and Keshan,” Mendraz spoke, his voice heavy and accented, filling Jandu’s ears painfully. Jandu stood once more. He helped Keshan stand beside him.
Mendraz offered them the sign of peace. “I have not forgotten your assistance, friends of the Yashva, and I am here now to honor that friendship. Our Yashva army will fight beside you in the war.”
Jandu felt stunned with the honor. In a thousand years of Marhavad history, no human army had ever been supported by the demons. To have Mendraz’ support now was the greatest tribute Jandu could ever have hoped for.
“My lord,” Jandu said, his voice heavy with emotion. “While you have honored me greatly with your allegiance, it is my sad duty to inform you that neither Keshan nor I will not be fighting tomorrow.”
Mendraz’s face seemed to frown, although it was always hard to tell with him, his eyes spinning, his blue-colored flesh flickering like phosphorescence.
“What has happened?” Mendraz demanded.
Jandu bowed his head. “My lord, I have been banished from Prince Yudar’s army after informing my brother that Keshan Adaru and I are lovers.”
Mendraz and the rest of the body-shaped lights in the forest flickered in silence for a long, agonizing minute. Then he said, “Does he not find Keshan’s Yashva blood suitable to your station as a prince? He is of very good lineage.” A note of affronted Yashva pride sounded in Mendraz’ voice.
Jandu sighed. “My lord, I have every intention of staying in this forest and protecting the Paran army as best I can. But I will not be able to fight with you on the battlefield.”
“Then we will not be on the battlefield either,” Mendraz stated. “We are allied with you, not your brother. My personal guards will stay here in the forest and protect you, and should you join the battle, they will be with you.”
Keshan bowed low. “Thank you, my lord, for your support in our time of need.”
Jandu wondered why the other Yashva did not materialize. They remained shrouded figures of light, hovering between the human and Yashva worlds. Jandu realized that half of them would probably be fighting in this war, against their will. Mazar’s knowledge of shartas alone could call all of them into action.
Mendraz made the sign of peace once more. “Be well, brave Jandu. Come here, Keshan.”
Keshan approached Mendraz, head down. Mendraz reached out and pulled Keshan into his arms. Jandu stepped back as light blazed through the Yashva’s body and into Keshan’s. Thunderous words crashed through the air around them as Mendraz and Keshan burned in the darkness. Jandu clamped his hands over his ears. Alarm filled Jandu.
“You are forgiven for your offence against Firdaus,” Mendraz said.
And then Mendraz let go, and stepped backwards, his light fading as he shrank back into the Yashva kingdom. He joined the hundreds of other lights surrounding them. They did not disappear, however. Their camp remained washed in a bluish light as they stood guard around Jandu and Keshan’s tent.
“Are you all right?” Jandu asked, gripping Keshan’s shoulders.
Keshan look startled, his eyes wide. But then he smiled. “Wait a moment.”
“For what?”
Keshan closed his eyes, raised his arms up, and then faded from sight. Jandu squinted in the darkness, but could only see a glimmer of light where Keshan had stood. A moment later, Keshan returned, laughing.
“I’m back!” Keshan cried.
“What do you mean?”
“I can enter the Yashva kingdom again!” Keshan laughed, and curled his arm around Jandu’s waist, pulling him close.
Jandu embraced Keshan, nuzzling his sweet-smelling hair. “A celestial army! Immortal Yashva! We would have been invincible.”
Keshan finally smiled, looking like the self-assured man Jandu fell in love with on his wedding day. “We still will be.”
Chapter 51
THERE WAS NO HORIZON—ONLY AN OCEAN OF MEN.
Tarek took in the sheer size of the Paran forces. Over fifty thousand soldiers stretched in formation from one end of the battlefield to the other. Their troops clustered in the center, tapering to flanks that ended at the edge of the forest and the eastern trench. Tense, warriors shifted from foot to foot, their armor glinting as the rising sun reflected off highly polished metal. Tarek felt the army in his bones. Hundreds of glittering chariots, thousands of cavalry, and an endless array of faces, framed by gold, silver, and bronze helmets, weapons raised, ready for the first conch shell to signal the beginning of the battle.
But for all the size and grandeur of the Paran army, the Uru forces were greater. Tarek looked east at the line of Darvad’s troops, awed by the magnitude of their own numbers. Behind him stood the Dragewan army, under his command and in tight formation. Seven charioted archers led each unit of infantry under Dragewan banners. Anant bowed slightly to Tarek
as they made eye contact.
The night before, Mazar had assigned Tarek and his army to the right flank. Tarek would lead an offensive against the Paran left flank, and clear a path for Mazar to capture Yudar. Once Yudar was theirs, the war would be over.
Tarek turned to confirm Darvad was safely protected. He stood in his chariot, fiercely guarded on all sides by Bandari soldiers. Chandamar, under their black banners, made up the center column along with the Tiwari army, united under Mazar and his white standard. Penemar and Pagdesh took position at the left flank. Tarek had to trust they were in proper formation—the straight line of soldiers prevented a clear line of sight to the edge of the battlefield.
As the last of the soldiers, cavalry, and chariots established their positions, Tarek faced the Paran forces once more. They were too far away to make out individual faces, but Tarek could see the colored banners that separated the five units on the Paran side. The Jagu Mali troops were dead center. The left flank was made up of the Karuna army, under Suraya’s father. The right flank consisted of the small armies of Jezza and Marshav, being led by Baram since Tarek had killed both their lords. And Afadi’s soldiers, under Lord Indarel, protected Yudar from behind the central forces.
Tarek strained to see who led the Paran army. Last night, spies reported that Jandu had been banished for his relationship with Keshan Adaru, and would not be fighting. While spontaneous celebrations broke out across the Uru camp, and Darvad had wept for joy, Tarek felt sick and disappointed—sick that Jandu was more loyal to Keshan than Keshan’s former allies, and disappointed that Tarek would not be fighting Jandu as an equal, as he had always wished.
But the loss was surely more terrible for the Paran troops, who now lacked their greatest shartic warrior. The Uru spies had been unable to discern who took Jandu’s place at the head of the Paran forces. But Tarek could now see Rishak Paria’s standard flying where Jandu’s would have been.
The first conch shell pierced the morning silence. A tidal wave of sound surged forth as every warrior in a chariot raised their conch shells and blew. Tarek pushed his helmet low on his head, reached for his own shell, adding to the resonant whole. As the drums joined in, goose bumps jumped up on Tarek’s flesh.
Tarek uttered a prayer to his bow, and then raised his arm in signal to his men.
“Forward Dragewan!”
The horses whinnied and rushed forward. Dust rose on the battlefield as hundreds of horses and chariots and men turned up the recently ploughed soil. Tarek’s charioteer, Satish, whipped the horses forward. Through the dim gray cloud of dust, Tarek could barely make out the moving line of the advancing army.
The Paran foot soldiers crashed against the Uru army first. Immediately, skirmishes broke out as both forces fought to punch through the center line. Tarek blew his conch, signaling his men around the fray and into the Paran’s left flank.
Enemy foot soldiers threw themselves out of the way of his chariot, and Tarek shot down anyone close to his car. His seven commanders and their cavalry stayed tight behind him. Their speed outmatched the foot soldiers, who fell back to hold an escape route for the Dragewan cavalry and chariots. Tarek blew his conch once more and shouted to Satish for more speed. The horses broke into a frenzied gallop. The chariot bounced and jerked over the ground and great plumes of dust rose in its wake.
Tarek braced his feet against the edges of his chariot as they surged upon the orange banners of the Karuna army. Arrows rained down upon Tarek’s chariot canopy and clattered against his armor. Their whistles were lost under the first shrieks of horses and dying men as Tarek cut through the foot soldiers and returned a storm of arrows of his own.
He drove a wedge into the center of the Karuna flank. Through the dust and chaos he caught sight of Lord Nadaru. Tarek drew his bowstring taut, steadied his mind, and then loosed his arrow. It sang as it flew from him, and sank deep into Lord Nadaru’s throat.
With Lord Nadaru dead, Tarek and his commanders savaged the Karuna army, slaughtering the commanders to a man. The clash of weapons and screams of men and beasts deafened him. Chaya infantry fell beneath Tarek’s chariot; a mulch of blood, filth, and flesh caked the wheels. The Karuna cavalry splintered before Tarek’s assault. Tarek’s blood pounded in his ears. He led his army deeper into the enemy line. All around his chariot, bodies writhed as his own foot soldiers clashed with Karuna infantry.
Tarek caught a brief glimpse of the red banner of Yudar’s chariot. A heady excitement rushed through him.
Now was Mazar’s moment to charge through the gap and claim Yudar. Tarek scanned the gray horizon for Mazar’s white standard.
But the general was nowhere to be seen. Something had gone wrong. None of the other Uru forces were there to take advantage of the gap Tarek had won. He and his cavalry would have to take Yudar themselves.
The sound of Mazar’s conch broke Tarek’s concentration. Mazar blew a short succession of notes, followed by a long wail; a call for retreat.
Mazar blew the notes again. Tarek swore under his breath and turned his own forces back to the Uru line. He looked yearningly one last time at Yudar’s banner, before cutting through the remains of the Karuna defense and racing to Mazar.
When Tarek finally caught sight of his general, Mazar looked like a prophet, with his flowing white beard, his sparkling silver armor, his enormous helmet, and his blazing white chariot. He was very far from where he was supposed to have been in the morning’s plans. He looked furious. He pointed across the lines of battling troops and Tarek saw why he had been recalled. A Paran banner blazed in the midst of the Uru defensive lines.
“Support Penemar’s army! They’re collapsing! The Parans are going to capture Darvad!”
A pure, absolute fear shot through Tarek’s body. “East!” he ordered Satish.
His chariot plunged into carnage and his men followed him. They cut down any obstacle, Suya and Triya alike, without challenge or bravado. He surged into the whirling madness where the Parans had broken through the Uru’s defenses in pursuit of Darvad.
Arrows fell like rain upon Tarek’s car, nicking his flesh and hammering his armor. One arrow sank deep into his thigh. He swore and tore it free. Suddenly Tarek jolted forward as a Paran chariot rammed his own. Fear coursed through Tarek as he fell with the chariot. The horses screamed.
Tarek rolled to avoid being smashed by the standard mast. The ground trembled with foot beats. He scrambled to his feet. His horses screamed to be cut loose from the tipped chariot. Satish, bloody but alive, chopped through the horses’ harness.
Men surged upon Tarek and he fought through the sea of soldiers. He was drenched in sweat and blood. Weariness crept to the edges of his senses but he pushed it back.
At the center of the melee Tarek saw the large, golden figure of Baram Paran. Baram was war incarnated. Penemar infantry lunged at him, only to be crushed under the weight of his mace. Even amongst the screeches of horses, Tarek could hear the revolting crack of their bones breaking beneath Baram’s blows.
Baram looked up and saw Tarek, and a sneer crossed his face.
“Suya whore!” Baram cried. He leapt from his chariot car and charged Tarek.
Tarek raised his sword, blocking the blow that Baram hammered down.
The impact shattered through Tarek’s arm, vibrating his joints. Tarek dodged and swung but Baram blocked his blow effortlessly. Baram looked filthy but he didn’t seem to carry even half of the exhaustion that burdened Tarek.
A loose horse galloped past them but they only shifted slightly. Baram snarled in feral rage, roaring as he swung his blade at Tarek. Tarek blocked the blow again but nearly buckled beneath the force.
Suddenly thunder cracked the sky and a vibrating hum sang through the air. The world seemed to darken. And then light burst to the right of them. A storm of small, shimmering particles fell down upon them all, a fine white powder that glinted like glass, but when it touched him, nausea infiltrated his body.
Tarek hunched over and threw up explosively
. The sudden sickness was so violent he nearly dropped his sword. He gagged and wiped his mouth.
To his relief, Baram, too, hunched over, gagging loudly and horribly. He desperately clung to his sword and tried to swing it at Tarek, but then he leaned over again and vomited.
Tarek tried to summon the sharta Firdaus once taught him, to fend off the effects of other magical weapons, but the nausea continued to pulse through him and was too strong for him to focus on anything else. Tarek saw that every man within one hundred paces crumpled to the ground, retching uncontrollably.
This was not a sharta Mazar had planned to use today. It had to be the Parans. Fear washed through Tarek’s senses. He had to get his army to their feet, they had to hold.
The ground shook as the Paran cavalry stormed over the prone bodies of the afflicted. Within seconds, Paran troops were upon them, slaughtering the sick Uru who wallowed on the ground. Tarek forced himself to stand and gasped out to his men.
“Stand and fight!”
The Penemar once again failed to hold the line, but Tarek’s own troops rallied, fighting through their sickness. And the Paran cavalry began to fall back. Tarek’s stomach calmed. He turned, searching for Baram, but he was too late. Baram had taken a loose horse and escaped with the Paran troops. Tarek’s victory against Baram would not come today.
But even so, Tarek took a moment to breathe deeply and feel satisfied. Despite the fact that the Parans had used a celestial weapon, the Dragewan army had defended Darvad and held the flank. The Penemar now fell in alongside Tarek’s own men, killing the stragglers of the retreating Paran forces.
Tarek slipped in vomit and blood. He barely caught his balance, and only then realized how bone-weary he was.
“My lord!” Anant appeared, leaping from his chariot to Tarek’s side. He steadied Tarek with a firm grip. “Let me take you to camp and see to your leg, my lord.”
Tarek looked down. His right trouser leg was red from blood loss.
“I will, after I secure this breech—”
“It is secured, my lord,” Anant interrupted him. Dirt caked Anant’s face and armor. Tarek could only clearly see Anant’s white teeth. “Commander Hadiv will ensure that our men support the Penemar infantry.”