“He has suffered many already,” Brynn replied. “And many more will follow. The Chezhou-Lei are in disarray, those who did not die at the Mountains of Fire and in the two conquered cities. He has lost many, many warriors, and suffers the weight of thousands of refugees, streaming down the roads from the west. He has an invading army running loose about his kingdom, while his army, a great force, chases ghosts on the To-gai plain.” She looked back to the south, where the fires of the distant, destroyed outposter settlement were still sending a glow into the night sky. “And one outposter settlement,” Brynn finished. “My attack there has turned the Behrenese army.”
“They have pursued us doggedly for several days,” Barachuk explained.
“Then I have given you some time to widen your lead on them.”
“What force did you bring with you?” the scowling giant man asked. “Enough so that we can do battle with the Behrenese army here and now, and finish this?”
“If I had brought the whole of my force with me, I would not do battle with the Behrenese army,” Brynn replied. “Let them continue to run over the empty ground, to meander futilely in To-gai, while I rain destruction inside Behren. Stay ahead of them, I beg, and lead them ever farther westward and northward, into the foothills of the mountains.”
“And when are we to fight?”
Brynn shrugged and shook her head. “Every day that you take them further from Behren gives me two days to convince the Chezru Chieftain and his people that this war is folly. Pruda has fallen, and we have many more cities in line.” She stared hard at the man as she spoke, and it was obvious to her that he was not enjoying her answer. She understood well enough; he was a warrior and wanted nothing more than to do battle with the Behrenese, whatever the odds. In looking around him, Brynn saw that many others seemed to share his sentiments.
“You will get your fight, my friend,” Brynn promised. “On the ground of our choosing, at the time of our choosing.”
“Not soon enough,” the warrior replied. “I will see every dog Wrap out of my homeland, or dead on the grasses!”
“Hold faith in us, in me, I beg of you all,” Brynn said. “Each conquered city will grow my army, as both Dharyan and Pruda already have. Wear this force thin. Make them long for home. Send out smaller bands around them if you can, and destroy any supply caravans. Attrition greatly favors those defending their homeland. The Behrenese soldiers hate this land because they do not understand it, and if you are cunning and quick, you will make them hate it all the more. Watch their numbers thin as hungry soldiers give up and run away.”
“Not one will get out of To-gai alive,” the scowling man declared.
Brynn walked up to him. “What is your name?”
“I am Tanalk Grenk of Kayleen Kek,” he declared, and Brynn stepped back, her eyes widening, at the mention of her old tribe. And at a name that seemed familiar to her.
“I was of Kayleen Kek,” she said, and the man was nodding, and looking past her. She turned and noted a nodding Barachuk.
“I remember you,” Tanalk said, “though you were but a child. It pleases me to see you again.”
Brynn turned back and put her hand up on the large man’s strong shoulder. “Take the fastest and strongest twoscore,” she said to him. “Lead them against the caravans. Strike wherever you can, and as hard as you can. Live off the bounty of the land, as you—as we all—were taught, while the Behrenese stumble and starve.”
A wicked smile widened on the large man’s face and he nodded slowly.
A tremendous roar rumbled through the night, from somewhere out in the distance.
“I must be away,” said Brynn. “Back to Behren, back to our kinfolk army, now in the conquered city of Pruda. I will return as I can, if I can. But whether any of you ever see me again, I beg of you to hold fast the old ways of the To-gai-ru, and to deny to your last breath the will of the Behrenese conquerors.”
A great cheer went up about her, with many weapons brandished high in the air.
She let that cheer echo in her thoughts behind the veil of wind as she sped back to the east that night, past the Behrenese army that had broken camp and begun their march to the burning settlement. She and Agradeleous went past that settlement, and a dozen more beyond, down over the plateau rim and across the wavy, blowing sands.
She knew the danger of the situation, knew that these early victories would likely be the easiest, and knew all too well that one day soon, those cheers of hope might well turn to cries of despair.
But so be it.
Brynn had not started this war—that had been done by the Chezru Chieftain more than a decade before. But she meant to fight it until her dying breath, if need be. That grim determination was her only defense against the awful images and sounds of that dying outposter settlement.
But so be it.
Chapter 29
Exacting a Promise
PAGONEL FOUND BRYNN AT HER MORNING RITUAL OF bi’nelle dasada, SOMETHING he thought quite curious, for he had not seen the woman performing that exercise in many weeks. She seemed very earnest about it, though, falling into the steps and movements with an intensity beyond anything he had previously witnessed from her.
He knew then that she was using the dance as a shield of some sort, burying emotions behind a wall of discipline.
He found her robe nearby and took it with him, then approached her as she danced.
She looked at him curiously when she saw him, for he knew better than to disturb this ritual!
Pagonel continued his earnest approach, and tossed the robe to the nude woman.
Brynn caught it and stood there for a long while holding it and staring at Pagonel. Then, suddenly feeling very naked indeed, the woman wrapped the robe about herself and continued to stare. “What do you know that so troubles you?” she asked.
“What I know does not trouble me,” the mystic calmly replied. “The looting of Pruda is complete, with supplies packed, treasures hidden, and one cache sent to the south with the contingent, as you ordered, to go and hire whatever mercenaries they might find, including fierce pirates. What I know tells me that the war progresses better than we could ever have hoped. It is what I do not know that troubles me.”
“About Merwan Ma?”
“About Brynn Dharielle.”
Brynn studied him intensely, and he moved right up to her, then began walking about her, staring hard. “You cannot hide, you know.”
“Am I trying to hide?”
Pagonel smiled at her sarcasm, but his look went serious almost immediately. “Tell me of your return to To-gai last night,” the mystic bade her.
“I found the Behrenese army chasing our own, with the cunning To-gai-ru leading them far to the west,” Brynn replied, with too much calm by Pagonel’s estimate.
“And so you hide from me, and I have no lights to reveal your shadows,” the mystic said. “But does your dance truly allow you to hide from yourself?”
Brynn snorted and waved him away. “You speak like a fool,” she said, and snorted again.
But that last chide was cut short by a sudden gulp of air, a sudden pang of overwhelming guilt. Brynn turned away quickly, trying to hide her horrified expression from the mystic, but Pagonel was there, right beside her, lifting her chin in his strong hand so that he could look deeply into her moistening eyes.
“What did you see?” he asked softly. Brynn tried to turn away, but he held her firmly. “What did you do?”
“They would have caught up to our fleeing force,” the woman blurted suddenly. “Their great army! They would have overrun Barachuk and the others in a short time. I had to widen the lead until the terrain favored our forces.”
“You set Agradeleous upon the Behrenese,” the mystic reasoned.
“Not the army,” Brynn admitted. “They were too strong, even for the dragon. But there was a village nearby, an outposter settlement.” As she finished, she fell into Pagonel’s arms, burying her face against his strong chest.
“You set the wurm upon the village?” he asked, and he felt Brynn’s nod against his chest. The mystic pushed the woman back to arm’s length.
“Agradeleous burned it to the ground. None escaped, I am certain.”
Pagonel nodded, both knowingly and sympathetically. “I once asked you if the price was worth the end,” he reminded. “Are the horrors of war—of any war—worth the end result of freedom for To-gai? You believed that they were.”
Brynn paused a moment to reflect upon that conversation, and upon the resolve that she had shown for so long, weighing against the black doubts that fluttered all about her. “That was before I was handed the power that is Agradeleous.”
There was a logic in that statement that was hard for the mystic to deny.
“Yet it was your army, and not the beast, that destroyed the Pruda garrison utterly and overran the city,” he did remark. “Surely the destruction here was great, as was the stench of death in the air. It is not so different.”
“That was honest battle, man against man,” Brynn countered. “With the village, it was … it was just slaughter.”
“And how do you plan to prevent that in the future?” came a melodic voice to the side, and the two turned to see Juraviel and Cazzira approaching.
“Why do you not tell me?” Brynn snapped back at him, quite harshly. “You brought this beast upon me, this scourge.”
“You presume that I could have stopped Agradeleous if I had wanted,” the elf calmly replied. “When the dragon determined that it would leave its dark hole, I had no power to convince it otherwise. But I did bring it to the cause of freedom—that is something, at least.”
“Is it?” Brynn asked, pulling away from Pagonel to stand before Juraviel. “In using the beast, am I—are we—any better than the Behrenese who conquered To-gai? Or are we worse, since we have loosed upon them a power that we cannot truly control?”
“A question for each of us to ask,” Juraviel replied with a shrug. “But know this as you seek an answer: The beast is out, and not I, and not you, can put it back in its dark hole. Will you now wage war against Agradeleous? How many will you lose, and how lost will be your cause?”
Brynn looked back to Pagonel, but the mystic had no answers for her.
“I could not prevent the rising of the dragon,” Juraviel went on. “But was it not better that I flew him to the south and distinguished his enemies as the Chezhou-Lei and not the Jhesta Tu? Is it not better that Agradeleous’ destruction is aimed at the oppressor instead of the oppressed?”
Brynn sighed and looked at the elves and the mystic helplessly. “I feel the weight of a responsibility too great.”
“Yet because you bear that weight with compassion, the artifacts of the Library of Pruda remain intact,” Pagonel pointed out. “You have not indiscriminately loosed the power of Agradeleous upon the Behrenese.”
“Tell that to the outposters of that village,” said Brynn.
“And how many other villages did you pass on your flight west, and then back to the east?” asked the mystic. “Were they all set ablaze?”
That did make Brynn feel a bit better, obviously, and she just nodded in reply, and said, “I hate this war.”
“I hate any war,” said Pagonel. “And so I ask you again, and you must ask yourself, every day if need be, if the price is acceptable for the outcome. Is the concept of To-gai free worth the horrors that will take her there?”
Brynn glanced over at Juraviel and gave a helpless shrug. “I wish the wurm had stayed in its hole.”
“You should wish more that the Yatols had not invaded your homeland,” the elf replied.
“I could not tell you the routes if I wished to, for I am as unfamiliar with this land as are you,” Merwan Ma said defiantly when Pagonel came to him in the back of a covered wagon, bounding along a dry riverbed later that day. The whole of the Pruda citizenry, those who had survived the assault, had been set on the road to the east, and then Brynn had turned her own army south, leaving the emptied city to the hot winds and the carrion birds.
“The Dragon of To-gai asks nothing of you,” the mystic replied, settling in beside the still-wounded man. Pagonel reached down and pulled back Merwan Ma’s shirt, then nodded hopefully at the continuing progress of his healing upon the dagger wounds.
Merwan Ma looked away, at first defiant, but then his eyes gradually lowered and a great sadness swept over him, and he began to sob.
“Why were you sent away?” Pagonel asked him. “Why did the God-Voice of Behren think Merwan Ma such a threat? I have read much of the Chezru hierarchy in the tomes I found in Pruda, including one unfinished reference of Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan. That tome mentioned Merwan Ma. Your loyalty to the God-Voice seems obvious enough.”
“You would say that, yet you expect me to betray him to you?” the Shepherd asked.
“I am voicing the questions that you are afraid to ask of yourself,” Pagonel explained. “There is confusion within Merwan Ma, great and devastating. You are horrified to think that Chezru Douan would have you killed, and yet it is obvious that he tried to do exactly that. But you remain afraid to ask the questions, and so I have asked them for you.”
“You would heal my heart as you mend my wounds?” came the sarcastic response.
“Perhaps,” the mystic replied with all sincerity, and he looked at the scars crossing Merwan Ma’s belly one more time, then crawled out the back of the wagon, leaving Merwan Ma alone with the unsettling thoughts.
The Shepherd tried to put his head back against the side of the bouncing coach, but his wounds would not allow such a stretch, so he scrunched over instead, folded his arms onto his bent knees, and buried his face there. He tried to deny Pagonel’s words, over and over again, tried to reason that Shauntil had acted the part of a rogue, had grasped for power on his own by trying to murder the Chezru Chieftain’s choice for governor of Dharyan. Yes, and if only he could get back to Chom Deiru and inform the God-Voice, Shauntil would be punished for his heinous act.
Merwan Ma told himself that over and over again. And yet he understood, somewhere deep in his mind, that if he returned to Chom Deiru, he would likely be summarily executed.
But why?
He scoured his memories for any offense he might have offered against the God-Voice, however unintended. He could see nothing glaring.
But one image, that of a bloody Yakim Douan cravenly clutching a chalice, kept coming to mind.
That had been the turning point, obviously, but what crime, what sin, had he committed concerning the chalice? He knew of its unexpected content, that gemstone, but had told not a soul. Nor could he even be certain that there was anything amiss concerning that gemstone. Perhaps it was nothing more than a decorative filler block, that the great and ornate cup could be filled without draining too much blood from those offering the sacrifice.
There was nothing amiss about that, after all. Yatol did not forbid gemstones—only the use of magical gemstones, such as those of the Abellican heretics.
At least one of those heretics was a close personal friend of the God-Voice.
Finally, Merwan Ma tilted his head back, ignoring the stretching pull across his scarred tissue, too consumed by the awful possibilities that loomed all about him even to notice the discomfort.
It all made no sense, all seemed a preposterous trick of this Jhesta Tu mystic, attempting to bend the awful actions of one rogue Chezhou-Lei to some personal gain. And yet, though he denied it consciously and vocally, it seemed undeniable to Merwan Ma’s heart.
Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan, his beloved God-Voice, the man to whom he had given the service of his entire adult life, had ordered him murdered.
Brynn surveyed the landscape, the flowing brown dunes sweeping like great breakers toward the one spot of varying colors, where date trees swayed in the hot wind and grasses grew thick about their trunks, bordering a long and narrow lake. Rows of small houses lined that lake, leading up to a single brown castle, squat and thick, with weath
ered brown walls pierced with arrow slits and a roof that sloped in varying angles.
It had taken her three weeks to bring her army there, mostly across empty sand, for they wished to follow no course that their enemies could predict. A welcome sight indeed was this place, as any settlement would have been to the weary and battle-hungry To-gai-ru.
“Garou Oasis,” Pagonel said to her, sitting astride a horse beside her and Runtly.
“A city with no walls,” Brynn remarked.
“Typical for an oasis stop,” the mystic explained. “This is the waypoint for caravans, who pay a large tithe to water their animals and themselves.”
“As we shall do, though we’ll pay no tithe.”
“The settlers of the houses will flee before us, no doubt, into their castle,” said Pagonel. “From there, they will shower us with arrows.”
“Then we will flatten their castle before we drink,” Brynn said matter-of-factly, a coldness that was not lost on the mystic.
“Take care with this place,” Pagonel warned. “The castles of the Behren oases are the strongest fortresses in all the country. They need not house many—I would guess that fewer than five hundred live here—and yet they normally hold great storerooms of wealth, for the tithe of using an oasis is never cheap. They are built to withstand an army, and you’ll not lure them out, as you did at both Dharyan and Pruda.”
“We shall see,” Brynn said, and she turned Runtly and walked him away.
They came in as a swarm of destruction, churning the soft and hot sands all about the oasis. Unlike her previous victories, Brynn held nothing back against Garou Oasis, charging her entire force, which now numbered closer to five thousand than four, in a tightening ring. Those Behrenese in the outlying houses didn’t even try to offer resistance against the To-gai-ru horde, fleeing straightaway for the defensive castle.
Most got in ahead of the To-gai-ru surge, though some were trampled down. Barely moments after the attack began, the oasis was quiet once more, with Brynn’s army surrounding the last bastion of Behrenese defense.
DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) Page 163