The Diamond Warriors

by David Zindell

  ‘As you choose,’ Master Storr said to him. ‘But we of the Brotherhood have devoted ourselves to walking the path of the Elijin and the Galadin, and so we must accustom ourselves to their laws. As with those for mortal men, they are simple.’

  ‘Simple, ha! Nothing about this universe the Ieldra created is simple!’

  Master Storr, Elder of the Brotherhood and honored Master Galastei of the Seven, was rich in lore and wisdom and full of years – and even so, Kane looked upon him as if he were a child. The two men might have gone on arguing through the night if Abrasax had not held up his hand for a truce.

  ‘We have a hard choice to make,’ he said, ‘and this will not help.’

  He looked at me then, and his eyes seemed to hold whole universes inside. It gave me great hope that although Abrasax tried to live by simple principles, he never interpreted them simply.

  ‘As I have said,’ he told me, ‘twilight is now upon the world, and we must do our best to see our way through it. We have many miles still to go on our march. Let my brothers and me confer along the way. When we come to Delu, we shall tell you if we will help you.’

  I bowed my head to him, then gazed at Bemossed sitting within a deep silence at the other end of the table. He spoke no words to me that night, nor to anyone else, but his soft, pained eyes seemed to ask me how much longer I could go on killing when I knew that this violence must inevitably turn back upon myself and those I loved?

  The next morning, the armies of Mesh and Kaash set out for Delu. I led forth with the Guardians and my friends riding in the van near me, and we kept to the same formation as we had in our crossing of the Wendrush. Behind the rear of the Meshian army, King Talanu and his captains rode at the head of the Kaashans. There might have been a better way to organize and move our combined forces, but I thought that my countrymen and our allies would do best fighting alongside their own people, and to be captained by lords whom they knew and trusted. Like a two-headed man, it might prove harder to coordinate this union of warriors who must go into battle as a single army. I had immense faith, however, in our army’s other head. King Talanu remained a king, and so would not simply receive my commands as must Lord Tanu or Lord Tomavar. But neither, I knew, would he lead his warriors in a way that contradicted me or mine. With every mile farther that we marched along the Rajabash River, with every pause to confer with each other or take our meals together at our nightly encampments, I came to know my uncle better, as he did me. As the days passed and we pushed our way into the eastern mountains of Kaash, I had a strange sense that King Talanu’s will was becoming as my own.

  For five days we kept to the good road that followed the winding course of the Rajabash, which flowed mostly north toward Waas. Our way took us through thick forests beneath high mountains. At a town called Antas, we came to the Char, a tributary of the Rajabash, and there we turned almost due east. King Talanu came forward to speak with me and to point out the road through the Char Valley that would lead us part of the way to Delu. At the valley’s end, he said, we would find it a hard road of steep grades and bridges over swift rivers; three passes we must cross, though none so difficult as the route that my warriors had taken around the back of Mount Ihsan.

  And so for the next nine days we labored on toward the east. The forest here showed many willows and maples of a kind that I had never seen. Flowers, in the warm Marud sun, bloomed along the roadside and from bushes beneath the overhanging trees. Many animals dwelt here: raccoons and badgers, rabbits, skunks and deer. King Talanu claimed that these eastern reaches of his realm were a hunter’s paradise, and I saw no reason to doubt him. But as the mountains grew more steep and rugged, this rough land became a wilderness where even hunters must take care where they tread. And my warriors, I thought, were a whole army of hunters in search of men instead of beasts.

  The weather favored us, for we endured no heavy rains or unbearable nights. The men marched as hard as they could without wearing themselves to the bone. We suffered no mortal accidents on the rough roads leading over chasms and winding up across broken rock. One unfortunate incident occurred on our descent from Mount Makara. One of my warriors, Sar Aragar, keeping pace at the head of Lord Tanu’s columns, managed to turn his boot in a pothole and sprain his ankle. Joshu Kadar happened to be riding in the vanguard not far ahead of him, and he immediately offered to bear Sar Aragar back to the wagons on the back of his horse. But this displeased Lord Tanu, who stood before Joshu Kadar and said to him: ‘When battle comes, you’ll be off with the cavalry and won’t be able to take time helping fallen foot warriors. Sar Aragar can wait by the side of the road for the wagons to catch up to us.’

  ‘But there is no need for him to wait!’ Joshu Kadar called out. ‘Let me take him back to Master Juwain before the swelling grows too great!’

  ‘Sar Aragar’s companions can wrap the wound,’ Lord Tanu told him testily. He looked out at the patches of snow covering the tundra around us. ‘And cool it, too.’

  ‘But Lord Tanu, there is no need for such austerity and –’

  ‘No need? What does a young knight know of need?’

  Joshu wisely broke off his dispute with Lord Tanu. After all, he bore only two diamonds in his knight’s ring while Lord Tanu was a lord of great renown who commanded nearly half my army. Then Joshu came forward to complain of Lord Tanu’s callousness.

  ‘The man has no heart,’ I overheard him say to Sar Shivalad. ‘It is a crime that such a nasty old bag of bile should have wed my Sarai!’

  I remembered that, after the Culhadosh Commons, Lord Garvar had given young Sarai Garvar in marriage to Lord Tanu instead of to Joshu. I felt Joshu’s hot, throbbing jealousy almost as my own. But I could not allow his passions to turn poisonous and deadly.

  ‘Lord Tanu,’ I said to Joshu that night in my tent, ‘is a true Valari and so has heart enough. My father always said that of all his captains, Lord Tanu had the greatest talent for forging men as hard as diamonds. We will need all this hardness, and more, before very long. As I need Lord Tanu. And so I must ask you to stay away from him before your quarrel results in a duel.’

  ‘Very well, Sire,’ Joshu said to me, reluctantly bowing his head. ‘You may be sure that I will stay as far from him as I can, on the march or the battlefield. But do not expect me to weep if our enemy cuts him down.’

  If discord lurked always among my warriors as it did all Valari, and indeed all men, at least I could give thanks that no worse arguments broke out among them. I knew that while Lord Tanu might not be moved to easy pity for Sar Aragar, he would gladly throw himself at a dozen of our enemy in order to protect him if the need arose. Most of my warriors, I knew, felt that way about most of their companions, even the Kaashans who would line up in battle by their sides. And so we marched across the mountains toward Delu, and on the brightest of days with the sun shining down warm and good upon us, we were like thousands of brothers who must soon fight and die as if we were one.

  At last, late on the seventh day of Soal, we came to a bridge over the Ianthe River, which marked the border of Delu. On the other side of this clear water rose yet more mountains, though slightly less high than those of Kaash.

  That night in my tent my friends and I again met with the Seven. And again Bemossed fell into a troubled silence as Abrasax spoke for the other masters: ‘We have decided that we must help you after all, Valashu Elahad. We do evil, we fear, in putting a sword into your hand. But it might prove an even greater evil to refuse you.’

  He went on to say that just as there could be no real distinction between matter and the numinous force that animated it, so men could not always keep separate a war of the spirit from a war of the sword.

  ‘You asked Master Matai if he might be able to divine the where and the when of the landing of the Galdan fleet,’ he told us. ‘Although we can have no certain knowledge of this, we have been able to formulate a good guess. Master Matai?’

  Abrasax turned toward the Master Diviner, who said, ‘The when of the
landing will depend on that of the fleet’s sailing. And that date, I feel in my heart, is nearly certain.’

  He went on to tell us that he had spoken with the aloof Hadrik as to the Galdans’ and Karabukers’ preparations for war. Hadrik had offered his calculation that the Galdan fleet could not possibly have made ready to sail before the middle of Marud.

  ‘And the fleet,’ Master Matai told us, ‘must sail from Tervola, for no other port can accommodate such a gathering of ships. And so our enemy, as you call them, will have to sail up around the Ram’s Cape and then cross the Terror Bay, at this time of year, mostly against wind and tides. Ten days such a journey will take, perhaps twelve – more if there are storms. But the Galdan sea captains will do everything they can to avoid such storms. As I should know, for my father’s father commanded a bilander named the Maiden’s Hope.’

  Master Matai’s fine face broke into dozens of radiating lines as he grew more thoughtful and seemed slightly embarrassed. ‘And the captains will almost surely seek for fair weather by casting for good omens.’

  ‘Ah, will they go to a haruspex then?’ Maram asked. ‘Who could think to find clues to the future in the bloody guts of a slaughtered goat or some other poor beast?’

  ‘No, they will not go to a haruspex,’ Master Matai told him, smiling as he shook his head. ‘And neither will the fleet’s diviners practice hydromancy or sortilege. No, certainly not. They will look to the stars, even as we do.’

  He paused, then added, ‘But not quite as we do. In Galda, outside of our schools, they practiced the Old Eaean astrology – and still do. It remains more superstition than studied art. In employing that system, which posits the earth as the center of all things, I have found a strong omen most propitious for sailing: when Argald covers Belleron, with Elad on the ascendant. Which occurred on the second of Soal.’

  ‘Five days ago,’ I said. ‘If the Galdan astrologers also found this omen, then do you believe that the fleet would have waited to sail?’

  ‘It is too strong for them not to have found it. And followed it. And so, yes, I believe they would have waited.’

  ‘Then if you are right, the fleet will make landfall in another five days – perhaps seven. Therefore we must cross Delu, nearly a hundred miles, in five days.’

  Through mountains and across hills, I thought, this march might nearly kill my men.

  ‘We can always hope for a great sea-storm,’ Maram put in.

  I looked down the table at Estrella, sitting within a deep calm, as she often did. I remembered how, with the aid of a blue gelstei that she had gained from the Lokii, she had summoned a storm in the middle of the Red Desert. But I did not think that even this strangely powerful girl could direct a storm at an unseen fleet of ships across hundreds of miles.

  ‘The only storm we can count on,’ I said to Maram, ‘is that of our spears and swords when we surprise our enemy. And so we must reach the sea by the 12th, at the latest – if Master Matai is right.’

  Here Master Juwain, whom the Seven had asked to join them, looked at me and said, ‘I believe he is, Val. We have all of us given this much thought.’

  ‘But sometimes,’ Liljana said to him, citing his greatest fault, ‘you think too much.’

  She did not need to add that in the Skadarak, Master Juwain had been seized by a terrible temptation to steal Liljana’s gelstei and force his way into Morjin’s mind.

  ‘It is true, I know,’ Master Juwain said. ‘Sometimes I’ve wanted to suppose that I could divine the Red Dragon’s plans and outthink him.’

  He sighed and took a sip of tea. ‘And that is the path of pride and ruin. It might prove even worse, however, to suppose that the Red Dragon will always outthink us. He is not so brilliant as he thinks he is.’

  He took another sip of tea as he looked from Kane to Bemossed, then added, ‘In his powers, he might be greater than anyone else in this tent. He might be. But when we put our minds together, to say nothing of our spirits, I believe that we can penetrate his plans.’

  ‘Yes, by determining the when of the fleet’s sailing,’ I said, bowing my head to Master Juwain and then Master Matai. ‘But what of the where of its landing?’

  At this Master Matai cracked a bright smile and said to me, ‘Now we enter into the realm of legend and supposition. But legend, if accepted unquestioningly, can gain the force of what is real. And supposition, if carefully constructed, can be a set of steps leading to the truth.’

  Then he went on to relate a bit of history and tell us where he thought the Galdan fleet would land: ‘In the year 1610 of the Age of Swords, Darrum the Great of Galda led a fleet to invade Delu. And King Alok Arani sailed forth with the Delian fleet to meet them in a great sea battle in the Terror Bay. It is recorded that they fought to a draw, though both sides claimed victory. The Delians lost a greater number of ships, while the Galdans lost King Darrum – to a fire arrow that pierced his eye, it is said.’

  Master Matai took a slow sip of tea as if he had all the time in the world to relate his story. I waited for him to continue, as did Kane, Liljana and the rest of us.

  ‘It is also said,’ Master Matai finally told us, ‘that the Galdans did not bear King Darrum’s body back to Galda nor did they sink him into the sea. Instead, a Galdan ship named the Sky Dragon landed in secret on Delu’s White Coast. The Galdans buried him beneath the sands there. They said that if Darrum the Great could not conquer Delu in life, he might yet in death. For the place where his bones lay, they said, would ever after be Galdan soil. And someday, the Galdans would come to this place and claim it for their own.’

  Maram, who could stand the suspense no longer, fairly shouted at Master Matai: ‘Well, where on that forsaken coast is this place? You must know, or you would not torment us so!’

  Master Matai took yet another sip of tea as if relishing the discipline of patience. Then he told us, ‘If the legend is true, they buried King Darrum between two great rocks rising up from a broad, flat beach.’

  ‘The Pillars of Heaven!’ Maram said. ‘When I was a boy, I stood beneath them! The beach from which they arise is called the Seredun Sands.’

  Upon his pronouncement of this name, something inside me clicked as with a key perfectly fitting into a lock.

  ‘The Pillars of Heaven, indeed,’ Master Matai said. ‘In Galda, for ages, the soothsayers have foretold that one day, Darrum the Great’s spirit would return to guide the Galdans. It is said that an army marching through the Pillars over King Darrum’s bones will gain invincibility and the greatest of victories.’

  I nodded my head at this, then asked, ‘And where on the White Coast is this Seredun Sands?’

  ‘Near its midpoint, a few miles to the north,’ Master Matai said.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, calculating distances and time. Then I looked at Master Matai and Abrasax, and each of the Seven, and I told them, ‘Thank you. Then tomorrow we will set out for this beach.’

  I did not give voice to my fears for what might befall upon these distant sands, nor did I imagine that Abrasax and the other good Masters of the Brotherhood would wish to hear them.

  The next day, just before dawn, I sent envoys riding over the Ianthe River toward King Santoval Marshayk’s palace in Delarid. As soon as my army entered his kingdom – the Delians would call it an invasion – alarms would be sent out in any case. I wanted King Santoval to know the general course that my army would take and why we marched.

  ‘Is that wise?’ Maram said to me as we stood before the bridge over the Ianthe. ‘My father’s court is full of those sympathetic to Morjin. I’m ashamed to tell you that the Way of the Dragon has put down some very deep roots in my homeland’s poor soil. My father, himself, will certainly fear Morjin more than he does the Galdans – or you. And so someone will certainly send word to Morjin of our plans.’

  ‘Yes, someone will,’ I told him, ‘no matter what we do. Our army cannot move through Delu unnoticed. But if Master Matai is right, the Galdans are now likely five days at sea.
We must hope that in the next five days, Morjin will not have time to learn of what we intend. Or if he does, that he will not be able to inform King Mansul.’

  ‘Always,’ Maram said, ‘we seem to find ourselves in circumstances in which fate forces us to hope too much.’

  ‘Is it too much, then, that when the odds favor us, the dice should fall our way?’

  ‘No, my friend, it is not – not unless Morjin breathes his foul breath upon them.’ He sighed then shook his head. ‘But at least we can count on one thing: my father will oppose neither our army nor our enemy. He will wait to see how things fall out between us.’

  ‘If we gain a victory,’ I said, ‘we can hope that he will join us.’

  ‘We can hope that,’ he told me. ‘But that, it seems to me, truly is wishing for a miracle.’

  After that, I led our army into Delu. No garrison guarded the passage into this realm, nor did the local lords send any knights or soldiers to oppose us. For hundreds of years, there had been peace between Delu and Kaash, and the Delian kings could not afford to spend any force protecting such a wild frontier. Few people lived in this mountainous region, and those who did kept to themselves and tried to mind their own business. They might have fled at the approach of an army marching out of a foreign land, but we Valari had never pillaged or raped, even in the worst of wars. Then, too, I sent out envoys through the countryside to inform the poor farmers and hunters that we would not requisition supplies but would pay good gold and silver for whatever food and forage the local Delians could sell us. In this way, we gained their good will and acquiescence to our purpose, if not their friendship.

  The roads we found to take us toward the east had nearly crumbled into dirt tracks or sheets of scree, but at least we were able to get our wagons down them. The first day of our passage through Delu proved the most difficult, for we had to work our way up and over a pass known as the Eagle’s Nest. On the other side, however, the Morning Mountains lost elevation with nearly every mile, and soon fell off into a succession of lines of old, worn hills. As the land grew ever more gentle, the rises were blanketed in black ash, oak, chestnut and red poplar while through the valleys grew beech, walnut and elm. Wild grape hung thick about the trees’ trunks, and it was the time of year when the plum trees grew heavy with their purple fruits. Maram, often riding alongside me, remarked that Delu was a fair land that had a sad, violent history. He might, I thought, have been speaking of Ea herself and all the misfortunes of the last eighteen thousand years.