Upon a Burning Throne

by Ashok K. Banker

  He kissed Sauvali’s belly and sat up. “Your time is soon, is it not?”

  “Any day now, my lord.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Even wives call husbands ‘lord.’ ”

  “They shouldn’t. We are married to each other, we are the most intimate friends anyone can possibly be to one another. Why should we be so formal and call each other ‘lord’ and ‘lady’?”

  “It’s a sign of respect.”

  “I don’t like it. It makes me feel as if you’re acting like a maid and treating me as your master.”

  “My dearest one, I am your maid, and you are my master.”

  “Not anymore. You are my wife now. We exchanged garlands at the temple, in front of the deity and the priest. It is recognized as a forest wedding.”

  “Even so, my love. You have a wife already, and she was wedded to you in front of the whole city, not just a small deity in a tiny temple, and a single priest. For your other wedding, all the royal family were present, and the aristocrats and all the gurus and preceptors and pundits and purohits. There were thousands of priests alone. It was the finest procession I have ever seen in my life. I should know. I was there, walking behind your chariot, tossing flower petals from a basket into the crowd.”

  He was silent for a moment. He didn’t like to be reminded of the differences in status between them. Even though he knew she was not trying to press the point, he still felt the sting. “We will have a royal wedding too, you and I. It will be grander and more elegant than my first. All the family and priests and nobles will be there. The whole city will celebrate. I will declare a national holiday.”

  She sighed and stroked her belly gently, in a familiar circling motion. He could hear it as clearly as if she were stroking his own belly. “You don’t need to promise me things like that, Adri. You know I don’t care about ceremonies and displays. You love me, and that is all that matters.”

  “What’s so wrong with that?” he asked. “Shvate took a second wife. Why can’t I?”

  “It’s not the same, and you know it. Mayla was princess of Dirda, a powerful kingdom.”

  “And you are Sauvali of Saugadha.”

  “Exactly, Saugadha . . . a tiny hamlet in the back of nowhere. Besides, my family isn’t among the foremost of families there. It’s only one of three hundred in the village, and one of the poorest. We have no land, no possessions, barely any food to eat. That’s why my sisters and I came to the city to seek work, to feed and clothe ourselves. You can’t compare me to Princess Mayla, people will laugh!”

  Adri was silent again, trying to imagine such poverty. He couldn’t. “I will declare you the queen of your own kingdom. There are always kingdoms that fail to produce heirs or commit some transgression against the empire, and we declare eminent domain over them. I will crown you queen of a kingdom, then you shall be the equal of Mayla or any other princess. No one will dare laugh at you.”

  She sighed. “Adri, my lovely Adri. You are a wonderful, sweet, great man. You will be a great emperor. But you dream of things that are not meant to be. No matter what title you give me, no matter what throne you seat me on, people will never forget that I was once a maid in this household. That I used to serve and wait on you and clean up after you. They will never accept me as anything but a former maid. The problem is not in Saugadha or any other place where you crown me queen. It’s in Hastinaga. The people will never see me as anything but a maid.”

  He was silent then, because he knew she spoke the truth. Yet he could not accept it. He loved her, and she loved him. They were husband and wife. Why should it matter who they had been before? Yet, deep down, he knew that it did. Just as it mattered to people even now that he was blind, that he could not see as they could, that a sightless person would be on the throne of the empire and would rule them all.

  He had heard the voices in the crowds that said rude things about him, about his blindness. Vrath had said to ignore them, that they had a right to their opinion, but that did not mean their opinion was right. Adri tried to ignore them, but still it hurt. Just as it hurt him now to think that even he, Adri, soon to be crowned Emperor Adri of the Burnt Empire, could not marry the woman he desired and have her accepted as his wife, his queen, his empress.

  Sauvali was right: no matter what title he conferred upon her, people would still see her as a maid, a low-caste, a servant, a backwoods villager. They would find a dozen ways to discriminate against her, find her inferior, lacking, wanting, undesirable. That was the thing with sighted people: they saw too much. They saw things that weren’t even there. He perceived Sauvali as a beautiful, gentle, kind, passionate, strong, and resilient woman. He saw the goodness within her, not the labels or social attachments. But they saw caste and race, skin color and ethnicity, height and weight—things that didn’t matter—while failing to see the things that did.

  “We will teach our son to be free of these prejudices,” he said, “to regard all people as the same, neither inferior nor superior.”

  He felt her catch her breath and then felt her hands on her face. “You are such a good man, Adri; you will be a wonderful ruler of Hastinaga. I am so proud of you.”

  He was about to respond with a lighter comment, something self-deprecating and nonchalant, when he felt a vibration through the ground.

  He sat up suddenly.

  “Adri?” he heard her say, concern in her voice. “What is it?”

  “Something is coming,” he said.

  Prishata

  General Prishata had learned from long decades of experience to read the size of an approaching force just by listening to the vibrations in the ground. The instant he sensed the tremors, he tossed the leaf of food he was eating into the drum provided for trash disposal and moved away from the rest of his men. He was seeking a clear spot of earth, and when he found it nearby, he dropped to the ground and pressed his ear to the grassy mound. He listened, shutting his eyes and letting his mind translate the vibrations and pattern into specific details. There was a difference between the vibrations produced by a two-horse chariot, a four-horse or six-horse wagon, a horse with an armored rider, and so on.

  After several minutes, he rose to his feet, his aging face grim. “Everybody to your positions. Full alert! Alert!”

  Shouts broke out. Men and women began running to and fro, leaping onto horseback, climbing onto chariots, snatching up lances, spears, javelins. A company of archers took up their weapons and rigs and sprinted for their assigned positions.

  Riverdell had been a favorite picnic spot of the Krushan family for generations, and over the decades, numerous generals and captains of the imperial guard had mapped out all the terrain surrounding the riverside. An occasional attempt at banditry and a brief ill-intended attempt at abduction had further informed their understanding of the best tactical positions, and a plan had been devised and perfected to allow for the possibility for a major strike against the family.

  It was logical to expect such an attack, and for this very reason, Prishata had been personally entrusted with crown prince Adri’s security and given free rein to commandeer whatever resources he desired. A military commander of the old school, he believed there was always strength in numbers. Today, for instance, he had two thousand men and women on duty, and access to a reserve contingent of forty thousand within two hours’ ride. The full alert protocol required riders to be sent immediately to summon the reserve, and their horses were already kicking up dust as the general mounted his horse. The archers, elephants, chariots, and cavalry were taking up their allotted positions exactly as assigned, thanks to his systematic regime of drilling and tactical maneuvers.

  The security contingent assigned to Adri was no small one. These were dangerous times. Even though the war against Reygistan was no longer ongoing, there were always retaliatory strikes and skirmishes. Ever since the night of the eclipse, Jilana had demanded that no member of the imperial family go anywhere without a full escort, and if they traveled out of t
he kingdom, then a reserve must always be within easy riding distance to provide backup. The enemies of Hastinaga were manifold and powerful. Jarsun was still at large; his attention may have been diverted, but he was still a major threat and not an enemy to be taken lightly.

  Prishata rode his horse along the edge of the grove of trees that covered the east bank of the Jeel, checking that all was as he had rehearsed. Elephants who had been dozing in the shade after bathing in the river for most of the afternoon were trundling reluctantly past him, raising their trunks in protest at one another. Their mahouts whispered into their ears and fed them sugarcane treats to motivate them; they would take up positions a hundred yards out, forming a curving wall that would block any chariot or mounted ingress.

  Beyond them, the chariots were already rolling out, cavalry leading them. Both were much more effective at offense than defense, and Prishata had assigned them their positions accordingly. His entire tactical plan was based on depriving the enemy of their main advantage: surprise. Anyone seeking to attack the imperial family at this idyllic spot would be expecting everyone to be relaxed, sleepy, well-fed, and well-wined, clustered in the comfortable shade by the river. They would be in for a rude surprise when they found chariots and armored horses charging at them!

  Another company of riders, archers, and lancers remained in positions around the grove itself. They would form the inner line of defense. And finally, if the attackers got past the outlying archers, the defensive line of chariots, the cavalry, the wall of seventy war elephants, as well as the archers and lancers, they would still have to contend with himself and his hand-selected company of one hundred elite soldiers. Even if they did get that far, the reserve would be there by that time, forty thousand fresh warriors who would crush them to pulp.

  Prishata paused his horse alongside a thick banyan tree, slipped off his left glove, and pressed his palm against the bole of the tree. He could again feel the vibrations. About two miles out and approaching fast. They were coming in strong, then, probably hoping to use the elements of speed and surprise to shock the Krushan defenses.

  His most trusted subordinate, Captain Karnaki, sidled up on her mount alongside him. “General, all our forces are in position.”

  Prishata nodded, pleased. That was smartly executed, considering that only minutes earlier they had all been filling their stomachs with wine and good food. “Report on the crown prince.”

  “Prince Adri is safe and sound. The inner circle is established, and he is aware of the threat. He is sequestered within the pavilion as per your instructions, along with his . . . erm . . . his wife.”

  Prishata nodded, pleased to hear that as well. The tent pavilion would make it impossible for the attackers to lay eyes on Adri, which would make it that much harder for them to be sure he was actually there. As there were several tent pavilions set up along the riverbank, all identical, it would be impossible from the outside to know which one contained the crown prince. To make it even more confusing, Prishata had arranged men outside each of the tents, suggesting that they all contained imperial family members, even though there was only one currently in his protection today.

  Correction: two. Even though his captain had just fumbled her title, the fact was that Sauvali was as much their responsibility as Adri. Prishata grimaced. He didn’t approve of the crown prince’s relationship with the maid, nor the fact that he seemed to have all but broken ties with his legitimate wife, Princess Geldry. Especially at a time when Geldry was bearing the future heir to the empire and Adri himself ought to be keeping his behavior impeccable prior to the crowning ceremony. But this Sauvali girl was here, and she was with him, and she mattered to the future emperor, so that was all Prishata needed to know. That made her his responsibility and by the gods’ lightning bolts, he would ensure that she was as well protected as was possible.

  “Companion,” Prishata said shortly, in response to Karnaki’s verbal stumble.

  Captain Karnaki blinked at him. “Sir?”

  “The correct term for Madam Sauvali is ‘companion.’ Or ‘imperial companion’ if you wish to be formal.”

  Captain Karnaki blinked again, absorbing this information. “Sir.”

  “What numbers do the outlier scouts report?”

  “General, sir, they have conflicting reports.”

  Prishata frowned. That was never a good sign. “Explain.”

  “The northern scout reported an attacking force of some five hundred riders, all well-armed, riding fast. The western scout reported seven hundred riders, two hundred chariots, and two hundred longnecks.”

  Prishata frowned. “Longnecks?”

  “Sir, the western scout wasn’t sure of the correct term for those longnecked beasts they use in the desert areas. The ones with the big humps in the middle of their backs. They move with a funny rocking and rolling kind of motion.”

  Prishata sighed wearily. “Camels. They’re called camels.”

  “Sir, permission to continue calling them longnecks. It’s what all the soldiers call them. Except for the few desert warriors, and we don’t have any of those in our company today.”

  “Yes, yes, go on.” Prishata gestured at him to continue.

  “Sir, the southern scout has the strangest report of all. He says he spotted two thousand riders. No elephants, longnecks, chariots—just riders, all riding light, no armor, and moving very fast.”

  Prishata didn’t like the sound of that. “A vajra.”

  Karnaki nodded. “What I thought too, sir.”

  A vajra was a lightning force, named after the lightning bolts of the king of the gods. It was a force of riders stripped down to the basics, riding horses bred for speed on short rides, not endurance or weight. They were of little use in a pitched battle against a large army of armored cavalry and elephants, but in a sudden strike like this, against a relatively small force in a single location, they could be devastatingly effective. More than just the tactical deployment, it was the number that worried the general.

  “Two thousand, you say?”

  Karnaki nodded. “I slapped him on the back of the head, telling him he was lying,” Karnaki said, then hesitated, as if realizing her words would sound amiss. “He’s a third cousin on my father’s side, sir, and I thought perhaps he was trying to impress me by exaggerating. But I believe he’s telling the truth.”

  That was distressing news. Prishata tried not to let his dismay show. “Two thousand vajra horsemen from the south, eleven hundred from the west including two hundred chariots and two hundred camels—longnecks—and five hundred heavily armored and armed from the north. Are all the reports corroborated?”

  “Sir, I’m waiting on corroboration as we speak. They should be reaching us at any moment.”

  Prishata nodded. “And the couriers are well on their way to the reserve regiments?”

  “They should be almost halfway there already. Allowing another hour or so to reach, then about two hours more for the backup to reach us. However strong these attackers may be, sir, forty thousand Krushan are an army! They can’t possibly withstand those numbers. If you ask me, sir, the instant they get word of our backup arriving, they’ll light out of here like arrows from a nervous bow, and that’s if they survive even that long.”

  Prishata did not comment on that assessment. Karnaki was right to be confident in their numbers. But three hours was a long time when arrows were flying, and the deployment of those attackers worried him. It was not a simple abduction; these weren’t opportunistic bandits hoping to kidnap and ransom a royal prince. This sounded like a military operation, well planned and well executed. There was also something about the specific deployment of those different cadres that reminded him of something he had seen before. But he had been in dozens of battles and overseen dozens more, and right now, he could not recall exactly where or when he had seen this particular deployment used. It probably didn’t matter; all that mattered now was that they had to hold out long enough for the backup to arrive. And the only way to do
that, as he had always taught his students, was by taking the offensive.

  “Very good, Captain,” Prishata said. “And—”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of a rider, coming in fast, bent over his horse, arrows in his back and leg and an arrow in the horse’s flank as well. The rider was a young woman, and from the blood on her garments and dripping from her wounds, she looked as if she had almost bled out, but she was still somehow mounted and alive. He admired the woman’s courage.

  Captain Karnaki dismounted and went to her at once, helping her down from the horse. Before she touched the ground, another horse came charging in from another direction. This one collapsed as it reached the clearing, raising a small cloud of dust. The horse screamed, kicking out in its death throes, the rider falling with the animal; Prishata leaped off his own mount and ran to the man’s aide. He was riddled with arrows, one sticking out of his chest that appeared as if it had struck within an inch of his heart. He was bleeding profusely and sputtering blood from the mouth and barely coherent. His horse was thrashing around in agony and Prishata shouted to the soldiers who had drawn near to end its suffering. One of them drew her knife and bent over the poor horse as Prishata bent over the dying scout to try to hear his last utterance.

  A third horse came in while he was trying to catch the gurgled half-coherent message. This one was itself unharmed but riderless. A large splotch of blood on its saddle marked the end of its rider, his third scout.

  Prishata had stationed over a dozen scouts in pairs at intervals several miles out, ensuring that no attackers could come at them from any direction without being seen. The instant a pair of scouts spotted an approaching force, one of them was to ride back to Riverdell with the first estimate. The second scout waited for the attackers to get close enough to corroborate the initial estimate, then followed. The second scouts had clearly been hard-pressed to race ahead of the attackers, judging from the state in which they had arrived.