Fire of Ages (The Powers of Amur Book 6)

by J. S. Bangs

  “You are free,” she said. “I brought you back your name.” She began to weep.

  “But it’s too late,” he said. His face twisted into a mask of agony and shame. “Everything is dark. Her body is finished. She comes now to take possession of it.”

  “No,” Vapathi said. “No. The Destroyer comes. Kushma, or Ulaur, or whatever you call him. Can you stand?”

  She pulled him to his feet. He sagged against her shoulder, but she put an arm under him and propped him up.

  “Come,” she said. “Let us see the light of heaven.”

  Mandhi

  From the deck of the dhow Mandhi could make out a crowd advancing through the narrow streets of Uskhanda. Shouts echoed off of the dock as the first of the fleeing defenders caught up. She pressed herself against the rail of the ship and peered through the crowds.

  Yes, there was Kest. The fear in her heart dissipated a little.

  “To the dhow!” she shouted. “Don’t fight them! Flee!”

  She didn’t know if anyone heard her. Battle began on the dock in earnest, if it could be called a battle. The men of Uskhanda ran from the Devoured, who approached with knives, clubs, and tree branches. A few of the men from the barricades held spears. One reached the edge of the water, then turned his back on the sea and tried to spear the Devoured woman following him in the gut. She ignored the wound and fell upon the defender, hurling both of them into the water.

  “Kest,” she bellowed. Jhumitu wrapped his arms tighter around her leg, and Hrenge came to the rail and watched with her.

  Kest ran faster than most. The Uluriya men on the shore saw him coming and shouted and waved so he would see them. Two, three rowboats full of men and supplies rowed away from the dock. One left. Kest’s feet pounded on the wooden dock. Mandhi could hear the shouting of the men from here.

  Kest took a long stride into the boat, and they started to row away. They were three boat-lengths away from the dock before the Devoured reached the end of the pier.

  Mandhi let out a sigh of relief. “Safe,” she said to anyone who was listening. “The Devoured won’t come through the water.” She squeezed Hrenge’s hand. Then she turned and looked to the sailors.

  Many of them had stopped working to watch the chaos on the shore, but a barked order from the captain set them moving again. The sail began to rise up the mast. The first of the rowboats bumped its nose against the hull, and the men lifted sacks to the deck and climbed the rope ladders.

  “Mandhi,” Hrenge said. She tapped Mandhi’s shoulder frantically. “Look.”

  She pointed back at the shore. It took Mandhi a moment to realize what was happening. The Devoured crowded together on the ends of docks and the shoreline, and they dove into the water.

  “They won’t—” Mandhi started to say.

  Then she saw a thin brown arm break the surface of the water and claw at the side of Kest’s boat.

  Mandhi screamed. A moment later there were four pairs of arms clawing at the side of Kest’s boat, heads breaking above the water intermittently. Their mouths were open, water sloshing over their tongues. Their feet kicked at the water awkwardly, their palms pounded the waves. Not deft swimmers, but they had unlearned the fear of drowning.

  One of the hands gripped the edge of Kest’s rowboat, and the Devoured man pulled himself out of the water and nearly into the bottom of the boat. Kest hurled the man back with a violent elbow to the chest, sending him splashing into the water.

  “Up! Now!” someone behind her shouted. Mandhi glanced back. Sudran was there, helping the last of the Uluriya into the dhow. Two of the rowboats were now empty, drifting against the hull. The last men were climbing up from the third.

  A trio of Devoured grabbed the side of the rowboat and pulled themselves out of the water.

  The last man in the rowboat boat shouted and scrambled away, then disappeared under a tangle of limbs. His comrade above him on the ladder bellowed and descended a step to try to help him, but he needn’t have bothered. The Devoured leaped from the boat into the ladder and began to climb.

  “Help him!” Mandhi cried. The man climbed up the ladder at the greatest possible speed, with the Devoured on his heels. Both of them tumbled over the rail and onto the deck.

  In an instant there was a fight. Uluriya and Kaleksha together picked up the Devoured man and hurled him against the rail, then pushed him over. But more came.

  Mandhi sprinted across the deck. Who was the captain? Who was in charge? Preparations seemed to have halted while the men watched the fight with the Devoured. Another Devoured man clambered over the rail and fell upon the Uluriya sailors—from where? A glance over the rail made her shiver. They were climbing up the anchor rope.

  “Pull up the anchor!” she shouted. She reached the rear deck and climbed up so she could be heard overhead. Stars above, where was the captain? “We can’t fight them all off so sail!”

  A few of the men near the sails seemed to hear her, and continued unfurling the sail. The anchor rope, though—two more Devoured had climbed onto the deck and laid into the crew with alarming ferocity. One was forced back over the rail, but another—

  “Mandhi!” Hrenge’s voice battered through Mandhi’s fury. Her eyes found them on the far side of the boat. Hrenge and Jhumitu, backing away from the Devoured who had climbed up the ladder. A torrent of incomprehensible Kaleksha screams poured from Hrenge’s mouth.

  Mandhi leaped down from the deck and sprinted through the bodies. She shoved aside a Devoured women who clambered up the ladder. She tackled the one threatening Hrenge from behind.

  They landed on the deck in a tangle of limbs and hair. Jhumitu bawled and screamed. Hrenge was half beneath them, squirming and shouting. Her heavy Kaleksha arms battered at the Devoured man.

  Mandhi rolled off and shoved the man away. He staggered against the rail. In a heartbeat Hrenge scooped up Jhumitu and backed off, but the Devoured man lunged at them again. Mandhi threw herself in front of them, locking her arms with the attacker. He leaned forward and bit her shoulder.

  Someone knocked her to the deck from behind. She saw a rag-clad man leap over her and her assailant toward Hrenge and Jhumitu.

  “No!” she cried. Too late. The Devoured man reached Hrenge and tore Jhumitu from her grasp.

  Hrenge cursed. She beat the man with her fists. She clawed at his fingers and stuck her thumb in his eye.

  But another came. Mandhi kicked at the man holding her and wrestled away. Limbs and arms everywhere. Screams of agony and fury. She got half to her feet, but the Devoured man grabbed her sari and pulled her back with the sound of tearing fabric.

  Jhumitu wailed. Hrenge cursed and screamed. Mandhi couldn’t see them. The Devoured grabbed her ankle and yanked her off her feet. Hands closed over her throat.

  She struggled and kicked. The Devoured man grinned at her, unmoved, showing yellow teeth. His hands tightened. Her breath was choked off.

  She struggled. Unable to gasp. Harsh pain around her neck. Her vision swam. No air. Blood rushed in her ears. Darkness at the edge of her vision, and blurs of color in the center. She flailed. Her kicking grew weak.

  A strange sound from the Devoured man’s mouth. He gurgled. His grip on her throat loosened, and Mandhi swallowed a gasp of air.

  The man didn’t let go of her, but a curious expression passed over him. His dead-eyed anger subsided. He slumped to the side.

  “I am….” he said. “My name is Aksham.”

  He said his name, closed his eyes, and collapsed to the deck.

  Mandhi gasped another mouthful of sweet, hot air. The tremendous bruise on her throat throbbed with pain as she did so, but she didn’t care. A little ways away, she heard a small child cry.

  Jhumitu, she thought.

  She staggered to her feet. There was a strange light all around her. Bodies lay on the deck on every side. Kaleksha and Uluriya slowly stood or peered down at the lifeless forms of enemies they had been locked in combat with a moment earlier.

  The sa
ghada Sudran stood near the mast, staring at the bodies of the Devoured. He locked eyes with Mandhi.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Vapathi,” Mandhi croaked. Her hand went to her bruised throat.

  “Your ring—”

  She looked down. Manjur’s ring on her finger was glowing, a white light with the flicker of red fire in its heart. There was no heat. She groped for words.

  Jhumitu cried and stirred her from her reverie. She stumbled across the deck and found him near the prow, pressed into the arms of the unmoving Hrenge. Mandhi knelt, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him into her own chest. She began to rock.

  The light of Manjur’s ring grew. Hrenge opened her eyes and looked at the deck strewn with the bodies of the Devoured. A strange expression of horror and wonder crossed her face. She pushed herself to her feet with a shaky hand and hobbled to the rail. She croaked, “Kest? Kest?”

  Mandhi kissed the top of Jhumitu’s head, and she struggled up carrying the boy. She followed Hrenge. The woman was crying when she caught up with her. Jhumitu pressed his face into Mandhi’s shoulder and bawled.

  The men on the deck began to shout and point at the sky. Mandhi glanced up: the red star blazed, piercing through the brightness of day. It gleamed like a ruby in the pale blue fabric of the sky. The screaming of gulls and the sound of wings thumped around her. Her hand felt warm.

  But her attention was elsewhere. Hrenge pointed out at the water. The boat which Kest had been in was capsized. It floated upside-down in the water, pointing its hull at the sky, with nary a body near it.

  The sound of wings grew louder. Mandhi’s hands trembled. She put her fingers to her throat again, unable to bear the pain of sobbing, unable to do anything else. Wings beat the air.

  She became aware of a brightness, white as pure starlight, filling the sky like water in a jar. The sound of wings roared. Her ring—Manjur’s ring—surged with light, as bright as lightning, and gave off a tremendous heat.

  It did not burn her. The light grew, until the sunlight was drowned by the crystalline brightness of the ring, and the shouts of wonder of the men on board were lost in the beating of the wings. Only the flaming ruby of the red star could be seen. And then the air burst with the shapes of feathers, the fluttering of enormous wings, and faces like tigers that shone with fire.

  Daladham

  There was crashing in the halls. Daladham heard Bidhra’s voice.

  “Hold them!” he screamed. “Hold them!”

  Daladham looked at Bhudman. “Any change?”

  The saghada continued to chant quietly. He shook his head.

  “He still speaks with the Powers?”

  Bhudman bowed his head. They could only assume.

  And then he heard the sound of splintering wood and screaming. Daladham stuck his head into the hallway and saw Bidhra and a cluster of soldiers charging toward him.

  “They’ve broken the door!” Bidhra shouted. “Get in!”

  Behind them, Daladham could see the dead-faced Devoured spilling into the passage. He turned to say something to Bhudman, but the saghada had already risen and pushed past Daladham into the hall.

  “The Heir of Manjur still speaks with the Powers,” he said. “We must protect him until the last possible moment.”

  For a moment Bidhra hesitated. “Carry him,” he said.

  “Daladham-dhu and I?”

  “Yes. To the roof. We will defend the stairs. It’s the best place we have.” He turned back to his men. “Form a line in the hall!”

  Daladham and Bhudman stepped into the sacrificial chamber. Without hesitation Bhudman bent and grabbed Navran under his shoulders, and Daladham took his feet. They backed out of the room.

  Bidhra and his men were shoulder-to-shoulder in a line three men across and four ranks deep, holding up rattan shields and spears against the Devoured who surged through the hall. Daladham spotted Yavada among the defenders, a sword gripped tightly in his sweaty palm.

  The Devoured threw themselves against the shields. “Hold!” Bidhra screamed. “Give the old men time!”

  “Up,” Daladham said. Bhudman nodded.

  They both knew the way. They dragged Navran down the hall and began up the stairs. The bottom of Navran’s spine bumped against the steps. He would have a terrible bruise there if he ever woke up.

  “Fall back!” they heard Bidhra call. “Fall back!”

  At the foot of the second set of stairs, Bhudman dropped Navran to the floor and leaned against the wall, panting heavily. “Give me a moment,” he said. “I’m not the young man I once was.”

  Daladham dropped Navran to the ground and wiped the sweat off of his brow. They heard swords and shields clattering together behind them. Bidhra appeared, his eyes wide with fright and panic.

  “Go, fools!” he shouted. “Can’t hold them here!”

  They grabbed the unconscious Navran and heaved him up the stairs again. Daladham could see the pain on Bhudman’s face, but they didn’t stop.

  Finally, they reached the roof. They dragged Navran onto a pile of straw near the parapet. More of Bidhra’s bellowing sounded up the stairs, and his head appeared above the floor of the roof.

  He took a glance at the two priests standing around Navran, then ducked back.

  “Hold them here!” His voice echoed, a thundering, desperate sound. “For the sake of the Heir! For the Powers!” Screams of fighting and the crash of bodies into spears and shields.

  Daladham looked over the parapet at the rest of the inner city. Devoured were everywhere. He could see ropes dangling from the parapets, used by the Devoured to climb and then abandoned. The gates they had opened from the inside, and a crude floating bridge sat on the surface of the moat. The streets crawled with them. Corpses littered the ground, blood flowing in the gutters. Fires flickered in a dozen different places. The attackers seemed crazed, running into and out of houses like ants, throwing torches against any surface that would burn, shattering clay pots, dragging survivors out of their homes and beating them with stones.

  He looked up. To the south, the ships had reached the mouth of the harbor, their sails up, running southward. At the docks were two rowboats still tied to their moorings, but the men that had tried to reach them were struggling against the Devoured, beating the attackers fruitlessly with oars and sticks.

  Bhudman grabbed Daladham’s arm. “Look,” he said. He pointed to the west.

  The red star. It was day, but the star had grown visible: a ruby with fire in its heart, shining in the pale blue sky.

  “The light of heaven,” Daladham said.

  “To slay the serpent,” Bhudman said.

  Come Kushma, come destroyer.

  Daladham looked down at the unconscious Navran. “I don’t know what the Heir is doing, but I pray he finishes quickly.”

  An anguished cry sounded from the stairs where the men were fighting. Bidhra stumbled to the top, following by Yavada and another soldier bearing a spear. The Devoured followed them.

  The attackers charged up the stairs and swarmed the soldiers. Swords hacked at the Devoured hands uselessly. Two of them charged Bidhra, slipping past the soldiers’ blows and grabbed him by his cuirass. They pushed him against the parapet, heaved him up, and hurled him over. His scream lingered in the air for a moment before it stopped.

  More came. Yavada and the other fell beneath a swarm of bodies. The Devoured turned toward Daladham and Bhudman.

  “The stars upon us,” Bhudman whispered.

  Daladham looked around. There was nothing to use as a weapon. And he was an old man, without armor, without training. He crouched and covered his face.

  A violent tackle threw him to the ground. Hands pulled at his shoulders, tearing his hands from his face. He kicked and struggled, but the Devoured barely noticed. They dragged him across the roof to the crenellations. Pressed him against the stone.

  He kicked again and fought against their hands. They turned him around so he could see their face. Devoid
of emotion. Neither the rage of battle nor the fury of a man fighting his enemy. Just cold, willful violence. They lifted him up.

  He felt the peak of the crenellation press against his back. He reached back and found nothing. He was perched atop the stone now, the four-story drop spinning below him. A nudge and he would slip over the edge and fall to the stone-paved courtyard below.

  The grip of the Devoured loosened. He didn’t fall.

  He slid forward, onto the roof, bruising his ribs on the corner of the crenellation, and slumped to a seat facing the Devoured man.

  The man’s face had changed. Confusion, pain, and memory. He looked at Daladham with pity and sorrow. His lips moved softly.

  “My name is Baktur,” he said.

  “My name is Uradha,” another one said from behind him. All around, the murmuring of names and the gasps of final breaths.

  The Devoured collapsed. The roof was silent.

  Daladham looked around. Navran had been turned over, his clothes torn, but he hadn’t awoken. Bhudman lay near the edge of the roof a few feet from him. The Devoured were dead on every side.

  Bhudman sat up slowly, his arms shaking. He looked dazed. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Daladham whispered. “Their names….”

  Bhudman nodded slowly, struggling to understand. Then he looked at the red star.

  Had it grown brighter? Hands trembling, Daladham rose to his feet and stared down into the courtyard. The inner city was as still as a grave. The Devoured lay motionless on every street. Nothing moved.

  There were still two rowboats at the docks.

  “Get Navran-dar,” he said. “There is still a chance. We can catch the boats.”

  Bhudman was watching the red star. A groan sounded from the edge of the roof. Bhudman looked where Daladham pointed and hobbled over to the source of the noise.

  Beneath a pile of limp Devoured bodies, they found Yavada. His face was bloodied and his cheeks bruised. Blood ran down his hands, and his kurta had been ripped to shreds by the Devoured. But he was alive.

  “What—” he began, then he clenched his jaw.