The Diamond Warriors

by David Zindell

  He did not finish his sentence. He did not have to state, one more time, the danger hanging over Ea and all of Eluru: that if Angra Mainyu were loosed upon the universe, a dark age lasting forever would descend upon all the stars, and the Ieldra would be forced to put an end to their glorious creation.

  ‘I cannot believe that will ever be,’ Abrasax said, looking at me. ‘I must believe Ayondela Kirriland’s prophecy: “The seven brothers and sisters of the earth with the seven stones will set forth into the darkness. The Lightstone will be found, the Maitreya will come forth, and a new age will begin.”’

  He nodded his head as if in agreement with one side in an ongoing argument that he held with himself. Then he said, ‘The first half of the prophecy has already come to pass, for who can doubt that a new age will soon begin, whether for good or ill? I do not doubt the final part of the prophecy: “A seventh son with the mark of Valoreth will slay the dragon. The old world will be destroyed and a new world created.”’

  ‘But, Grandfather,’ Maram said, ‘a scryer’s words are like a cat’s eyes: they can change colors, depending on how one looks at them. Val has already slain the dragon. A real dragon, of flesh and blood and fire. In Argattha, he put his sword into Angraboda’s heart, and killed that monster’

  ‘But is that the dragon of which the prophecy speaks?’ Abrasax asked him.

  ‘You tell me!’

  ‘I shall tell you this,’ Abrasax said, pointing at the bandage that Master Juwain had plastered above my eye. ‘Val has been cut on his forehead, in the same place, yet a third time in his life. The mark of Valoreth, indeed! We should all take great hope from this miracle. As we should pay close attention to the ordering of the lines of Ayondela’s prophecy: “The Lightstone will be found, the Maitreya will come forth” – and only then will the dragon be slain. But slain how, I ask you? Not, I hope, by a sword through Morjin’s heart. Not by that sword, which Val holds in his hands. I pray it will be as Bemossed has said: that Morjin can be aided to turn back to the light. And if he can be, then the Dragon will truly be slain, for Morjin’s evil self will perish, and the Great Red Dragon will be no more. And Morjin will stand radiant and good, as he was born to be.’

  For a while we all sat quiet and unmoving at my council table. The sun’s fierce rays pierced through the thin, woven fibers of my tent. Outside, men were singing out the verses of the old epic that told of Aramesh’s defeat of Morjin.

  Then Kane stood up and began pacing back and forth like a tiger locked in a cage. Beneath his taut, sunburnt skin, his muscles bunched and relaxed in rhythm with the pounding of his savage heart. At last, he paused by Abrasax’s chair, and fixed him with his black, blazing eyes.

  ‘So,’ he said. His voice rumbled up out of him like molten rock from a crack in the earth. ‘You reopen the old argument. The old, old argument.’

  Only a day before, Master Juwain had pulled an arrow from his lung; the immense vitality pouring out of him suggested that he had forgotten this insult to his flesh. But I sensed him reliving grievances as ancient as the stars – and much else, too. His eyes grew clear and bright, and sad, and I saw looking out through them a strange and ancient being.

  ‘There was a man,’ he said. His voice flowed out rich, deep, fiery and pained. ‘Ha – a man who had once been a man. A warrior of the spirit, for he lived in obedience with the One’s law that the Elijin are not permitted to slay. He, too, believed that a great soul could be turned back toward the light.’

  As the afternoon lengthened and it grew warmer inside the tent, my friend who was now very much a warrior of the sword spoke of the ancient ages long before the Star People had come to earth. He told us of Asangal’s fall as the damned angel called Angra Mainyu – and the great War of the Stone that had resulted when Angra Mainyu stole the Lightstone to challenge the will of the Ieldra. Half of Eluru’s Elijin and Galadin, known as the Daevas or Betrayers, had followed Angra Mainyu into exile, while the others called themselves the Amshahs: they who would preserve the Law of the One. They remained with Ashtoreth and Valoreth on Agathad, which some called Skol. There, led by the immortal Kalkin, they worked to drive the poison from Angra Mainyu’s heart. Some of what he told us the Galadin’s messenger, two years before, had confided to my companions and me in a stone amphitheater outside of Tria. And now, as Kane paused to look at Alphanderry and asked him to sing for us, a very different messenger recited lines from the ancient verse:

  When first the Dragon ruled the land,

  The ancient warrior came to Skol.

  He sought for healing with his hand,

  And healing fire burned his soul.

  The sacred spark of hope he held,

  It glowed like leaves an emerald green;

  In heart and hand it brightly dwelled:

  The fire of the Galadin.

  He brought this flame into a world

  Where flowers blazed like stellulars,

  Where secret colors flowed and swirled

  And angels walked beneath the stars.

  To Star-Home thus the warrior came,

  Beside the ancient silver lake,

  By hope of heart, by fire and flame,

  A sacred sword he vowed to make.

  Alkaladur! Alkaladur!

  The Sword of Love, the Sword of Light,

  Which men have named Awakener

  From darkest dreams and fear-filed night.

  No noble metal, gem or stone –

  Its blade of finer substance wrought,

  Of essence pure as love alone,

  As strong as hope, as quick as thought.

  Valarda, like molten steel,

  Like tears, like waves of singing light,

  Which angel fire has set its seal

  And breath of angels polished bright.

  Ten thousand years it took to make

  Beneath their planet’s shining sun;

  Ten thousand angels by the lake:

  The souls poured forth their fire as one.

  In strength surpassing adamant,

  Its perfect beauty diamond-bright,

  No gelstei shone more radiant:

  The sacred sword was purest light.

  Alkaladur! Alkaladur!

  The Sword of Ruth, the Healing Blade,

  Which men have named the Messenger

  Of hope of angels’ star-blessed aid.

  In ruth the warrior went to war,

  A host of angels in his train:

  Ten thousand Amshahs, all who swore

  To heal the Dark One’s bitter pain.

  With Kalkin, splendid Solajin

  And Varkoth, Set and Ashtoreth –

  The greatest of the Galadin

  Went forth to vanquish fear of death.

  And Urukin and Baradin,

  In all their pity, pomp and pride:

  The brightest of the Elijin

  In many thousands fought and died.

  Their gift, valarda, opened them:

  Into their hearts a fell hate poured;

  This turned the warrior’s stratagem

  For none could wield the sacred sword.

  ‘None could wield it!’ Kane suddenly called out, interrupting Alphanderry. ‘The Dark One waited for the Amshahs to open their hearts, in ruth – even in love. But he was ruthless, eh? And so he drove all the vileness of his spirit into them, and slew those who could be slain.’

  I felt the blood pounding in his face as his eyes filled with a black and bitter thing. I had a hard time believing that my furious friend could once have been Kalkin: the Elijin lord and mighty warrior told of in the verse.

  He saw me looking at him, and moved over to my chair. Without any care that I now might be king, he reached out to lay his hand upon my chest. And to Abrasax, he said, ‘We call that within Val’s heart a sword. Of light, of love. But it has other names, eh? The soul force, the valarda, the fire of the stars. So, Alkaladur. The Elijin possess it, too, and in greater measure, for they are greater beings; in the Galadin it truly blaz
es as brightly as the stars. If they, in their thousands, could not turn back Angra Mainyu, why should you demand of Val that he must strike his sword of light into Angra Mainyu’s creature?’

  Abrasax considered his response only a moment before he answered him: ‘Because it is wrong, even for men, to kill. And because in harming others, we harm ourselves.’

  According to his ideals, he had elucidated the highest of principles. But for me, the valarda was no theory on how to live, but the very agony and heartbeat of life itself. And death. Atara had once told me that on the day I killed Morjin, I would kill myself. I feared that she might be right.

  ‘Your way’, Abrasax said to Kane, ‘has always been the sword – whether of silustria or steel.’

  ‘Not always’ Kane reminded him.

  At this, Abrasax bowed his head as if to honor Kane. Then he told him: ‘But you can never defeat Angra Mainyu this way. He was the greatest of the Galadin, and so you cannot even harm him.’

  ‘No, I cannot – not that way.’ Then quick as a breath, Kane drew his kalama from its sheath. ‘But I can destroy Morjin this way. Or Val can. And so the Lightstone might be regained and given to the Maitreya.’

  He looked at Bemossed sitting quietly at the end of the table, and so did everyone else.

  ‘I will not,’ Bemossed told him, ‘have men go marching out to war on my account.’

  ‘On your account,’ Kane growled out, ‘men will come here marching to war, whether you will it or not.’

  He went on to tell us what he had learned in Galda: that armies gathered and everywhere men spoke of Morjin and the coming great crusade.

  ‘I am almost sure that Morjin went to Galda,’ he told us. ‘To put down the rebellion, yes, but even more to drive the Galdans to war. Now that Bemossed has come here, which he will certainly learn, he will send soldiers to hunt him down. He cannot allow the Valari to unite around such a great light. But he won’t strike straight at Mesh, with a small force, as before. He will march with all his armies, and surround the Nine Kingdoms. And then he will annihilate the Valari, once and for all.’

  His words clearly distressed Abrasax, who pressed his fingers against the snowy hair covering his temple. He seemed to be fighting a battle within himself – I guessed between discretion and the telling of the truth. In the end, truth prevailed.

  ‘After we eluded the Grays,’ he told us, ‘we fled across the Wendrush into the Niuriu’s lands. There we learned evil tidings.’

  He pressed his fingers into his neck below his ear. Those of the Brotherhood, I knew, were masters of revitalizing the body through touching upon critical points where the body’s deep flames whirled.

  ‘The Red Dragon,’ he told us, ‘has conquered Eanna. He sent a great fleet up through the Dragon Channel. It defeated the Eannan navy. His Hesperuk and Sungurun armies then landed outside of Ivalo in the west, while King Ulanu and his soldiers attacked up from Yarkona in the southeast. They split the kingdom in two, and finally brought King Hanniban to battle – and nearly destroyed him. On the eighth of Ashte, this was. King Hanniban has fled with a thousand of his men to Alonia. It is thought that the Red Dragon might next send his armies there.’

  ‘So, that is the way of things, then,’ Kane said. ‘With Eanna gone, there’s nothing to stop the Hesperuk fleet from sailing straight through the Dolphin Channel into Tria.’

  ‘But that is exactly the Beast’s plan!’ Vareva called out. For all the time we had sat together, this strong, lovely woman had remained quiet, listening politely to all that transpired. Now, however, she told us of things that she had too long held inside. ‘In Argattha, one of Morjin’s priests said this! They called him Arch Yadom – sometimes Lord Yadom. It was said that Morjin trusted no man more.’

  My jaws clenched as I looked at Vareva. I remembered too well the filthy torturer of whom she spoke: a man with a long skull and hooked nose that made him seem like a vulture.

  Kane, always alert for subterfuge, caught Vareva in his dark gaze. ‘Morjin trusted no man more, and this I believe. But then why should we trust what Arch Yadom told you? Perhaps this is exactly what he wanted you to believe – and to tell us.’

  ‘Are you saying that the Beast allowed me to escape?’

  ‘How else do you think you found your way out? Of Argattha?’

  Vareva shook her head so violently that her long, black hair whipped into the face of Master Matai, sitting beside her. And she called out, ‘No, no, no – I know Lord Yadom would not let me escape. He was in love with me! A vile priest of the Kallimun, it is true, and it was a vile and twisted love, if I can even call it that. But when he was drunk, he used to whisper things to me. And at other times. He told me that if I didn’t do exactly as he said, he would split me in two – as Morjin planned to split the Nine Kingdoms in two! After Morjin conquered Alonia, the Dragon Armies would march south to –’

  ‘All right,’ Kane growled, cutting her off, ‘then Yadom must have let you go at Morjin’s command.’

  ‘No, you don’t know how it was!’ Vareva slammed the flat of her hand against the table with such force the wood rang out. ‘After Arch Yadom was done with me, I was to have been given to Morjin. He had prepared a torture for me – he would not say what and so ruin the surprise. It was some new kind of crucifixion, I think. He had promised to show all his priests what he planned for the Valari.’

  Kane stared at her hard, without compassion, or so it seemed. I sensed Vareva holding back her tears as she stared right back at him. Finally I stood up and grasped Kane’s arm.

  ‘Enough!’ I said to him. ‘What Vareva has told us agrees with the Grandmaster’s tidings and your own guess as to Morjin’s strategy.’

  ‘So it does. But what if Morjin has a deeper strategy, eh?’

  Again, he turned to look at Vareva. Then I gripped his arm even more tightly and called out: ‘Enough, Kane! She has suffered enough!’

  It turned out that after Vareva’s escape from Argattha, she had walked straight across the burning grasslands of the Wendrush for more than four hundred miles. She had eaten insects or carrion, when she could find it, and when she couldn’t, nothing at all. Miraculously, she had neither drowned crossing rivers nor been devoured by lions or bitten by poisonous snakes. But even as she had drawn within sight of the Morning Mountains, her tide of fortune had turned the other way, for she had been captured by warriors of the Yarkut clan of the eastern Urtuk – the very same clan which had once cut off my uncle, Ramashan’s, head and sent it back to Mesh in a basket to show their contempt for all Valari emissaries. The Yarkut had held a fierce debate over what to do with Vareva. Some of their warriors called for her to be held for ransom, while others fought for the right to take her as a concubine; a few warriors wanted nothing more than to burn her at the stake and make wagers as to how long it would take her to scream. It was even as she faced these dire circumstances that Abrasax and the other masters, with Bemossed, had also approached Mesh’s mountains.

  ‘Thank you, Sire,’ Vareva said as she bowed her head to me. She cast Kane a long, angry look. ‘I have suffered enough at the hands of men, but no more. I do not know what would have happened to me if the Brothers, and Bemossed, had not come along.’

  It turned out, too – this is the story as Vareva told it – that Bemossed and the others had walked right into the Yarkut’s encampment as if out of a mirage. Bemossed had stunned the Yarkut’s headman, Barukurk, by simply asking for Vareva to accompany him and the Seven on their journey. The fierce Yarkut warriors whispered that Bemossed had somehow laid an enchantment on Barukurk. A few of them told of how Barukurk couldn’t help staring at Bemossed; he was like a captive, they said, who had been staked out with his eyelids cut off beneath a blazing sun. Barukurk had then stunned everyone by giving Bemossed a ring of gold, and escorting Varveva, the Brothers and Bemossed to the very foot of the mountains.

  ‘It is a time for miracles,’ Vareva said. Then she clasped the hilt of her sword as she turned to bow her head to Kane. �
��But I agree with my King’s old companion. They will never come to pass unless we can keep the Shining One safe.’

  Abrasax’s great head nodded, too. But he did not so much bow in agreement with this as he did look down in defeat. At last he turned to gaze at me. ‘I think, then, that you have decided on war, King Valamesh.’

  ‘War, yes,’ I said to him. I looked at the deadly weapon I still held in my hands. I looked down the length of the table at Bemossed, so trusting, so bright and utterly vulnerable. ‘But a war of the sword or a war of the spirit, I do not know.’

  After that, we concluded our council. Soon I would have to go back outside with the others to rejoin the festivities. It should have been the greatest day of my life, full of song and celebration. For the first time, however, I felt the great weight of kingship fall upon me. I gazed at the five bright diamonds set into the ring my father had once worn, and I heard a voice whispering to me that I would yet kill many more men with my sword on the long and seemingly endless road to war.

  10

  Early the next morning, with the sun’s first rays warming the mountains’ white ridgelines to the east, Atara and her sister Manslayers made ready to leave on their journey. I said goodbye to her down by the river behind our encampment. I stood holding her for what seemed an hour, listening to the rushing waters ring against great, smoothed boulders. Finally, she stood back from me and said, ‘You have gained what you sought … King Valamesh. I am so proud of you.’

  I looked back at my warriors’ thousands of brightly colored tents flapping in the morning breeze. And I said, ‘I have gained what I sought, yes. But not what I most wanted.’

  ‘And what is that, truly?’

  ‘You know,’ I whispered to her. ‘You have always known.’

  ‘And you have always had what you most desired,’ she said as she took my hand. ‘As you always will.’

  I gripped her warm fingers in mine as I gathered up the courage to say to her: ‘I am afraid that I will never see you again.’

  ‘But you will!’ she told me with a smile. Then her face fell beautiful and grave. ‘You must. The important question is: will I see you again? Will I, Val?’