by Troy Denning
Perhaps, in joining the Tuigan, Batu was returning to the people of his destiny. Like the fierce Tuigan, he had always been an impatient and forceful man, and he had always lacked the grace and elegance of the Shou race. It was possible that his great grandfather’s blood still ran in his veins, that he would find a more fitting home with the Tuigan than he had ever found in Shou Lung. Only time would tell, he knew, but for now the renegade was content to ride with the horsewarriors.
Epilogue
It was an hour after dawn. Batu and Jochibi stood atop a hill at the mouth of the canyon, ankle deep in sugary snow. The canyon walls blocked their sight to the north and south, but the view west was clear.
A light snow had fallen during the night, spreading a blanket of unsullied white over yesterday’s battlefield. The only apparent sign of the combat was a ribbon of frosty mounds where thousands of dead lay under their cold veil. From atop the hill, these mounds could be seen only because the dim morning sunlight cast small shadows on their western sides. It seemed as though some snow spirit, sensing that neither side would cremate the casualties, had come to spread a funeral shroud over their bodies.
Beyond the battle line stretched a vast plain, ideal ground for the Tuigan cavalry. It was blanketed with the same sugary snow as the hill, and sparkled in the sunlight as though carpeted with diamonds. At the far edge of the plain, perhaps fifty miles away, there was a band of blue that could only be a lake. On the other side of the lake rose a handful of jagged, cloud-colored shapes identifiable as distant mountains.
It was not the mountains that Batu and Jochibi were watching. Dozens of gray lines were inching their way across the plain, moving toward the Tuigan position at the mouth of the valley. Though Batu’s eyes were not sharp enough to pick out any details, he was experienced enough to know the lines were enemy columns. He estimated their distance to be less than fifteen miles. Their strength had to be several thousand apiece.
“I count eighty-two columns, commander,” Jochibi said, pointing his finger at the last one. “We’ll never fight through all that. It looks like Chanar wins the wager after all.”
“Chanar wins nothing,” Batu said, studying the columns with a predatory curl to his lip. “We’re not going back.”
“That’s madness!”
“Glorious madness,” Batu responded, grinning. The enemy would cut them to pieces, but the Shou did not care. Yesterday, he had fought his illustrious battle. All that remained now was to achieve the impossible victory.
“This time, we truly don’t stand a chance,” Jochibi objected. “Even if there are only two thousand men in each column, they have more than a hundred and sixty thousand warriors.”
“To be precise, one hundred eighty-seven thousand, six hundred and seventy-nine soldiers,” said a strange voice.
Both Batu and Jochibi drew their swords and spun around to face the speaker. They came face-to-face with a gaunt, balding man. His black hair and beard were streaked with gray, and his red-rimmed eyes were burning with spite and malevolence. He slouched as if he were seated in a comfortable chair, but appeared to be floating in midair. Behind the speaker stood four more figures, three males and a voluptuous, sinister woman. All four wore the red robes of enemy wizards. The mages stood with their arms linked and their eyes closed in concentration.
Without hesitating a moment, both Batu and Jochibi swung their weapons. Their blades passed through the speaker’s body as though it were a mirage.
The stranger threw back his head and laughed. It was a stiff and artificial cackle. “Your audacity continues to amaze me.”
Eyeing each other in wary astonishment, Batu and Jochibi stepped away from the red-robed stranger.
“Who are you?” Batu demanded.
“Szass Tam, zulkir of Thay,” the gaunt figure responded, his face growing serious and menacing. “I assume you are the chief of this band of savages.”
“You assume incorrectly,” Batu said, casually dropping his sword to a low guard. “That honor belongs to the mighty Yamun Khahan, Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples.”
The zulkir looked toward the east and squinted, as if trying to see something very distant. “Yamun Khahan, you say? Who is that with him—the fool who led the first attack on our lands?”
Again, Batu and Jochibi glanced at each other in astonishment. “Does he mean Chanar?” Jochibi half-whispered.
“Chanar,” Szass repeated.
No sooner had he spoken than two heavy thuds sounded next to Batu. A pair of Tuigan curses followed.
The Shou turned to his right and saw the bewildered khahan seated in the snow. His dark brow was wrinkled in anger, and his jaw hung slack in astonishment. Next to the khahan sat Chanar, equally confused and angry.
“Great Khahan!” Jochibi gasped. Sheathing his sword, the scar-faced warrior stepped around Batu, grabbed the khahan’s shoulders, and pulled him to his feet.
Regaining his composure, Yamun motioned Jochibi away, then asked Batu, “How did I come to be here?”
“I brought you,” replied Szass Tam.
“That will be your last mistake,” Chanar growled. In one swift motion, the Tuigan khan drew his sword and leaped at the zulkir. Chanar’s blade passed through Szass’s body, then the khan followed. He fell face-first into the snow and lay there perplexed and cursing.
“Do all your subjects respond to strangers in this belligerent manner?” Szass asked, addressing Yamun.
“Yes,” Yamun said simply. He turned to Batu. “What is your report?”
Szass Tam would not be ignored. “He has decimated an army of ten thousand gnolls, and completely wiped out the Griffin Legion,” the wizard responded. “He is quite an impressive commander.”
“I have many more like him,” the khahan said, reluctantly granting Szass his attention.
“I doubt it,” countered the zulkir, pointing at Chanar’s prone form. “At least if that greedy oaf is any example.”
Yamun eyed Chanar with a spiteful sneer. “He isn’t.”
Noting the khahan’s hostility, Chanar returned to his feet and sheathed his sword. He scowled at Batu as if the Shou had personally arranged this embarrassment.
Addressing Szass Tam, the khahan asked, “Did you bring me here to talk about my generals, or do you want something?”
“Look out there,” the zulkir said, pointing at the plain to the west. The gray lines were still crawling over the snow. “Nearly one hundred and ninety thousand men are marching against you, and we can summon more at a moment’s notice.”
“Then do it,” Batu said. “Twice that number would not concern us.”
The zulkir scowled at the Shou, then turned his attention back to the khahan. “Do you allow your subordinates to speak for you?”
“When they speak the truth,” Yamun replied with a steady gaze. “We have nothing to fear from your pitiful nineteen tumens.”
Szass Tam raised an condescending eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes. At the other end of the canyon, over three hundred and fifty thousand warriors await the order to attack,” the khahan proudly lied.
The zulkir glanced to the east, then turned back to Yamun. “I count ninety-seven thousand, four hundred and thirty-two, exclusive of the two thousand, seven hundred and thirty-six here with the Shou commander—somewhat less than the three hundred and fifty thousand you claim.”
Yamun grimaced, then snapped, “I have no use for your counting, or your sorcery. We are traveling through your land. If you stand aside, we will take only the food and wine we need to live. If you stand in our way, not an infant will be spared our swords.”
Szass listened to the threat with a patient smile, then said, “Perhaps I should show you something.” The zulkir stared at the snowy plain. “This is what will be in a week’s time.”
Suddenly an image of the khahan’s one hundred thousand Tuigan warriors appeared at the base of the hill. They were all fully armed and prepared for battle. As Batu and the others watched, a powerfully built
figure in t’ie cha armor rode out in front of the army.
“Khahan!” gasped Chanar, looking from the figure back to his commander. “That’s you!”
Batu shared his rival’s astonishment. Even from this distance, the figure was clearly the khahan. That meant they were watching an illusion, the Shou knew, but it looked so real that he could hardly force himself to disbelieve it.
The illusory khahan lifted his sword and gave the signal to charge. Using one of the favorite Tuigan battle formations, the entire line started forward. There were two ranks of heavy, armored cavalry in front and three ranks of unarmored cavalry in the rear. The charge gained momentum, and soon the Tuigan were streaking across the plain unopposed.
All at once, the first rank of horses crashed to the ground, spilling armored men in every direction. Where no enemy had been standing, a line of pikemen appeared. They drew their swords and began hacking the unhorsed cavalry to pieces.
The second Tuigan rank charged forward. A wall of fire erupted in their path. Those that did not perish in its flames pulled up short. Moments later, several artillery legions appeared on the Tuigan flanks. Trebuchets and catapults began raining boulders down on the line.
The barbarians responded by rushing their light cavalry around to outflank the artillery. No sooner had they broken formation than several legions of gnoll longbowmen appeared on their wings. Clouds of arrows began sailing into the light cavalry.
“Enough!” the khahan growled. “This is not real!”
The illusion faded immediately. An instant later, all that remained below the hill was the snow-covered battlefield.
Batu admired the artistry that had gone into conceiving the plan. From what the Shou knew of Tuigan tactics, Szass Tam had foreseen every detail correctly. “I look forward to battling you, Zulkir,” Batu said, bowing slightly. “Your plan seems bold and ingenious.”
“And it will no longer work,” the khahan observed gruffly.
“Yes,” Jochibi agreed, a note of suspicion in his voice. “Why reveal your intentions to us?”
An icy smile creased the zulkir’s thin lips. “Because I have better things to do with your army than destroy it.”
“This is not your army to do anything with, stillborn kid of a sickly goat!” Chanar interjected.
“Only a fool would need to be reminded of that, Chanar!” the khahan snapped. “Now be silent. I wish to hear the zulkir’s words.”
“Your wisdom is as magnificent as your title, Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples,” the zulkir responded, a mocking glint in his eye. “I have shown you what will be if we fight. Now, let me show you what could be.”
Again, the Tuigan army appeared at the base of the hill. This time, it was spread out over a much larger area, practically the entire plain. The terrain seemed strange. There were dozens of villages scattered around a small, unwalled city. Most of the hamlets east of the city, and the city itself, were burning. The barbarians were riding toward a lake on the western side of the plain. As they traveled, they paused only long enough to loot and set fire to every settlement they crossed.
As the armies moved forward, the zulkir said, “You are looking at Rashemen, a land on our northern border. We have been trying to destroy its people for many years, but a great lake lies between us and them.
“When you appeared out of the wastelands,” the zulkir proceeded, “I thought you were nothing more than an army of thieves. Now that I have seen the cunning of your generals and the might of your army, I know I was mistaken.”
The zulkir motioned at the field below. “You will be destroyed if you invade my land, which we call Thay. Still, it will not be an easy task, and the battle will greatly weaken us.”
As Szass spoke, the illusory Tuigan forces continued to ride toward the lake. They crossed ground and moved at such an incredible pace that Batu knew he was seeing in minutes what would take days to accomplish in reality.
“While I was pondering this unpleasant thought,” Szass continued, “it came to me that you are the tool we need to destroy Rashemen.”
“We are nobody’s tool!” the khahan objected.
The zulkir rolled his eyes in impatience, but said, “Of course not. I only meant to imply that together we might succeed where neither of us could alone.”
“You may continue,” the khahan said after a pause. “I am listening.”
The zulkir smiled confidently. “Good. My proposal is this: Thay will attack Rashemen’s southern flank. In the meantime, you will ride north, then invade Rashemen from the east. With her forces occupied in the south, there will be nothing to oppose you.”
The Tuigan army reached the great lake on Rashemen’s western edge and began to regroup.
“What do you get out of this?” Jochibi asked.
Szass looked toward the scar-faced officer. “A wise question,” the zulkir acknowledged. “The answer, I hope, is Rashemen. As you ride through, you will rip her entrails out, leaving nothing but devastation in your wake. It will be an easy matter for us to follow through and finish the job.”
“A treacherous plan,” the khahan said thoughtfully. He turned to Batu. “What do you think?”
The Shou did not hesitate to answer. “I will fight wherever the Tuigan travel,” he said. “But I think the greatest battles lie in Thay—”
“Along with the surest defeats,” interrupted the zulkir.
“What does that matter?” Batu answered, shrugging. “In the end, every soldier falls on the same battlefield.”
The khahan nodded. “Wisely spoken.” He turned to Jochibi next. “You?”
“Thay is a deathtrap,” he said, glancing at Batu. “Yet, how can we trust the zulkir to keep his word? How do we know that what he shows us is real?”
“If it was not, would I show you this?” the zulkir countered, pointing at the illusion.
Batu returned his attention to the mirage. Most of the Tuigan army had regrouped. They were camped on the lakeshore in the winter, and the wooden skeletons of a fleet of ships were just beginning to take shape. A moment later, a mass of weary and ragged looking soldiers appeared on the Tuigan’s southern flank. They charged, taking the camp by surprise and pinning the barbarians against the lake’s icy waters.
“Who are they?” the khahan demanded. “What is the meaning of this?”
The zulkir shrugged. “They are exhausted soldiers from Rashemen. As for the meaning, I don’t know. Perhaps they are a routed army fleeing before our advance. Perhaps Thay has lost the war, and the soldiers of Rashemen have rushed north to deal with your invasion. I cannot answer, for that area of the future is closed to my eyes.”
“If this is to be our fate, there is no reason to aid you,” Jochibi said. “Why trade death in one place for death in another?”
“Because you are capable warriors. Therefore, what you see in Rashemen is not certain death,” Szass Tam countered. “On the other hand, what you saw in Thay …” He let the sentence trail off.
The khahan raised his hand for silence. “I have decided,” he said. He allowed a moment to pass, then made his pronouncement. “You will pay us a tribute of ten thousand kegs of wine. For that price, we will invade this Rashemen and leave Thay to do as it will.”
“It is an insult to ask tribute,” the zulkir responded. Yet, for a man who had just been insulted, he seemed surprisingly calm. “You have not conquered us.”
“I conquer everything I see,” the khahan responded, fixing his gaze on the zulkir. “Besides, as you yourself have admitted, even if I fail, Thay will be greatly weakened. Perhaps Rashemen will conquer you, not the other way around.”
The zulkir’s eyes narrowed, and he regarded the khahan with hateful respect. “I proposed an alliance, not surrender terms.”
The khahan shrugged, then glanced at Batu. “As my general has said, every soldier falls on the same battlefield. I see no reason ours should not be in Thay.”
“A glorious choice,” Batu said, allowing a grin of anticipation to creep across
his lips. “The best fighting is here.”
Szass Tam scowled at Batu’s eagerness, then addressed the khahan, “I will not give you so much as a flask of wine in tribute, now or ever.”
The khahan frowned. “Then we will let fate decide,” he proclaimed.
“Wait,” the zulkir responded, raising his hand as if to stop the khahan. “Here is what I will do.” He motioned at the wizards behind him. “I will send these four mages with you as guides.”
For the first time since they had appeared, the wizards showed some emotion. The woman opened her eyes, and the jaws of the three men dropped in astonishment. The zulkir’s image immediately grew translucent and began to waver.
“Look!” Jochibi said, pointing at the illusion in the plain below.
Like the zulkir himself, the illusion had grown translucent and fuzzy. Yet, it remained clear enough to see that the four wizards were standing on the shore of the lake, and that they had somehow parted its waters. The khahan’s army had mounted and was rushing through the watery canyon toward the other side of the lake, leaving Rashemen’s haggard warriors behind them.
Batu turned back to the khahan. “I’d suggest we take the wizards,” he said. “To me, it looks like they’re worth much more than ten thousand kegs of wine.”
“A wise recommendation,” the zulkir commented, speaking to Yamun Khahan. “Do we have a bargain?”
“We do,” Yamun replied, nodding grimly. He turned to the Shou, then pointed at Chanar. “Batu, send your quiverbearer to your troops. They are to return to my camp.”
Chanar started to object, but a sharp look from the khahan silenced him. His face red with fury, he turned to obey Yamun’s order without allowing Batu the pleasure of repeating it.
As Chanar descended the hill, the zulkir addressed Yamun again. “Before you leave, Khahan, there is the matter of compensation for the wizards I am sending with you.”
“What compensation?” the khahan growled.
“I am loaning you my assistants,” Szass said. “It is only fair that you give me someone of equal value.” The zulkir shifted his glance to Batu. “Perhaps I could have the services of the Shou general?”