The Diamond Warriors

by David Zindell

  King Kiritan had once told me that I might marry Atara when I brought the Lightstone into his hall. This I had once done, but too late for Alonia’s great king to give me his daughter’s hand, as one of Morjin’s creatures had murdered him. Even if King Kiritan had lived, however, he could not have presided over any such union within his hall, for Morjin had reduced the huge Narmada Palace – and all the buildings on its grounds – to broken bits of stone. With some regret and much reluctance, I ordered my army to encamp there, at the top of the highest of Tria’s seven hills. The Trians, I reasoned, had become used to casting their gazes in that direction to behold the seat of Alonia’s power and glory. It might comfort them to see that Ea’s High King, although an outlander from Mesh, had at least restored law and order.

  With winter soon coming on, both were badly needed in a place that had fallen nearly into lawlessness. And even more, the Trians – those who hadn’t fled the ruins of their city – required food, shelter, clean water and the other necessities of life. Too many of them shivered beneath crude coverings of animal hides draped over blackened poles as their only protection against Ashvar’s icy rains. The cries of babies wailed out day and night from these acres of squalid half-tents as their mothers’ milk dried up. Long before spring, I feared, many men, women and children would begin starving to death.

  ‘So it must have been in Surrapam after the Hesperuks devastated it,’ Maram said to me late in Ashvar as we stood on the scorched grass of the palace grounds looking out over the city. ‘I’ve always regretted having to flee that poor land and leaving the Surrapamers to such a fate.’

  I had, too, and so before King Thaddeu had marched away from the Detheshaloon, I had made him promise to send aid to Surrapam to repair a part of the damage wrought by his father’s murderous ambition. All Ea’s peoples, now, I told Maram, would have to help each other.

  Toward that end, I asked Lord Harsha to oversee the rebuilding of Ea’s docks. This practical farmer and proud warrior had a great talent for dealing with almost anything of the material world. He sent his quartermasters galloping across the countryside outside the city to locate supplies of lumber. Soon, along both the Poru’s muddy banks, the sound of saws tearing through wood ripped out into the cold, wet air. The new quays and docks, smelling of sap and tar, took form and pushed out into the river. Then bilanders and barks and other sailing ships made their way in from the sea and past the rocky island of Damoom to tie up in Tria’s new harbor. They came from Delu, the Elyssu, Nedu and even faraway Thalu, and brought with them grain, oil, salt, furs, iron, wood – and a thousand other needful things. King Kurshan, still encamped with his warriors and the other Valari at the heart of the city, nevertheless managed to get word to his kingdom’s people that the Lagashuns should send out a small fleet of ships to Tria. That did not prove so grand or impossible a venture as sailing through the waters of the Northern Passage and up to the stars. But the sacks of barley in the holds of the Lagashun ships kept many from starving – and that seemed a miracle enough.

  On the darkest day of the year, Atara informed me that she was carrying our child. I wanted to rejoice and call for a thousand bottles of brandy to be emptied in celebration. I wanted to set a date for our wedding, too. But Atara, her voice heavy with sorrow, said to me, ‘Let us wait, Val, for winter to end, and then we shall see.’

  When Triolet came and spring beckoned, we began to build Tria anew. On a cool, blustery day, Kalkin stood with me on top of the rubble that had once been King Kiritan’s palace. He stamped his boot against the pulverized stone and said to me, ‘The new city will rise up out of the old. Just as your ancestors built Tria on top of an even more ancient city.’

  ‘But I thought that the Star People founded Tria,’ I said to him.

  Kalkin’s gaze seemed to tear open the ground. ‘When Elahad led the Valari here to what he supposed was a virgin world, Ea was already old beyond old, as I’ve told you. Erathe, we once called it. And if we dug down deeply enough through this, we would find the ruins of Trialune.’

  He went on to say that it was in Trialune that a great king had ruled the world before he had become the first of the Elijin.

  ‘Build well,’ he said, looking up at me. ‘Make yourself a city that will be a glory to the earth and stars.’

  And build we did. True to his admonition, I called to Tria architects, stonecutters, masons and sculptors from across Alonia, and indeed, the whole world. Once we had the roads repaired, teams of oxen drew forth carts of white and silver granite cut from the quarries to the southwest of the city. As well, ships brought into port cargoes of fine Delian marble, dragonstone from faraway Nedu and the very best Galdan glass, in dozens of colors. Such materials would have sufficed to restore Tria to its former splendor. But I wished for something more, and toward that end, I asked Ymiru for the help of his people.

  Late in Triolet, from out of the fastness of the White Mountains, Ymiru summoned forth a host of Ymaniri, who journeyed across the Wendrush bearing iron mallets and chisels and a great knowledge of the art of shaping stone. And making it, as well. For the Frost Giants, as the incredulous Trians thought of these massive, white-furred men, had used purple gelstei to grow the huge crystals that gone into the building of the beautiful Alundil, the City of the Stars. Or rather, the Ymaniri’s ancestors had, for they now possessed only a single lilastei, kept in trust by Ymiru. They would need dozens of such to accomplish the great work that I, and Ymiru himself, envisioned.

  And so once again, Kalkin shared with Ymiru the ancient lore of the Star People, and Ymiru used his violet stone to create out of dragon ore another, and then fifty of these powerful gelstei. They made as well new firestones. Then the Ymaniri went to work, molding hard stone as they might clay, cutting flame through granite and raising up houses, inns, temples and other buildings. They fabricated sheets and blocks of living stone, in all its shimmering iridescence, and they crystalized out of water pure shatar, as clear and hard as quartz. One of the Ymaniri – the Elder named Hramjir – even succeeded in making glisse: a crystal nearly as adamantine as diamond and invisible to the eye. It would be many years before the Ymaniri, along with the Alonians and others who had come to this ruined place, set the last stone and called Tria complete. But by the first day of Ashte, with the fields outside the walls greening, flashes of ruby fire filled the air over the city from the Arwe Gate in the east to the Urwe Gate in the northwest, and its light spilled over the beginnings of new spires, towers and great bridges arching across the Poru River.

  All this construction would take a great deal of time, and treasure. Many people paid for Tria’s splendor with their sweat, blood and life fire freely given. But I sent gold to Galda in payment for their glass, and so to other kingdoms for other materials. Much of this coin – good, solid Alonian archers, as the shining round disks were called – came from King Kiritan’s hoard, divided up by the Narmadas after he had been murdered. That half of the clan led by Javas Narmada surrendered this wealth gladly, while Belur Narmada, who had supported neither Morjin nor myself in the war, made great complaint. But I proclaimed that the Narmadas’ treasure belonged to the true Narmada heir, and that was Atara. Furthermore, I told Alonia’s great lords that they must all contribute to Tria’s rebuilding, and indeed, that of the entire world.

  I summoned them to the city late in Ashte. We met on the lawn outside of the new palace rising up from the Hill of Gold, as the Trians called this residence of their most powerful families. I commanded my army to draw up in all their thousands; my warriors’ suits of diamond armor glittered beneath the sun in an eye-burning brilliance. Before them, in their finest tunics, embroidered with jewels and gold, stood Count Muar of Iviunn and Duke Malatam of Tarlan, who had both marched with Morjin’s Dragon army. And Harkin Kirriland, scion of one of the ancient Five Families, which had ruled Alonia since time immemorial, and Duke Parran of Jerolin. All those who had answered my call to battle gathered there, too: Young Baron Narcavage, Baron Monteer, Javaris Narmada
and the Eriades brothers, Julun and Breyonan. They looked uneasily upon their countrymen who had done nothing either to help or hinder Morjin, but preferred to stand back and hope that Morjin’s army and mine might destroy each other. The most powerful of these were Belur Narmada and Baron Maruth of the Aquantir. Bringing Alonia’s great lords together, I thought, was something like herding tigers, for it had taken a strong sovereign such as King Kiritan to keep them from falling with swords on each other and tearing Alonia apart.

  I stood before them, with Atara at my side and my warriors behind us, and I told the lords that the time of war among the Five Families and the various dukedoms and baronies had come to an end. They would spend their wealth rebuilding their kingdom, and not on spears, shields and swords.

  ‘You ask too much!’ Count Muar shouted out. He was a thin man with angry green eyes and deadly-looking, like a cobra. ‘I must be responsible for Iviunn: many estates were destroyed when the Aquantir fell against us during the war.’

  Here he glared at Baron Maruth, whom I thought he would gladly have murdered, if given the chance.

  ‘You do ask too much,’ Belur Narmada said to me. ‘You know nothing of the realm that you would rule.’

  ‘No Alonian king,’ Old Duke Parran said, tapping his finger against his cleft nose, ‘has ever taxed us so!’

  For a while I let him, and others, speak out as they would. Then I held up my hand for silence. And I told them: ‘It will not be a king who taxes you. I shall rule Ea from Tria, but the ordering of Alonia I shall leave to her rightful sovereign. I have called you here today that you might acclaim Atara Ars Narmada.’

  Atara stood quietly next to me, wearing her lion-skin cloak over a long, formal tunic that did little to hide the great swell of her belly. Although her white blindfold bound her blond hair instead of a crown, I thought that no woman could have looked more of a queen.

  ‘A woman, and a blind one at that, to rule Alonia!’ Duke Parran called out. ‘Never!’

  ‘She is with child,’ Belur Narmada said, ‘and will be too busy suckling him to bring succor to the realm.’

  ‘And she is half Sarni!’ Davinan Hastar observed.

  And Count Muar added, looking at me, ‘I knelt to you on the battlefield, as High King, but I will not kneel to her as Alonia’s ruler. Choose another!’

  Although Atara had spent her first sixteen years at her father’s court, none of these lords really knew her. They each thought of themselves as rich, powerful and noble. But Atara, through many battles that they could not imagine, had gained a grace and fire far beyond them.

  She stepped forward, and her words rang out strong and clear: ‘I will not become your queen for my sake, nor will you kneel to me for your own. But you will kneel. Only in this way can we bring peace to Alonia.’

  Where Morjin had compelled obedience through a voice that seized the sinews of one’s will and filled the soul with terror, Atara evoked a much deeper force, as if she had beheld the shape of the future a million times and none could deny what she had willed with all her flesh and dreams to be. Alkaladur blazed within her, too. So did all her goodness, beauty and devotion to the truth. It was her covenant with life in all its onstreaming inevitability, I thought, that finally took hold of the nobles’ hearts and swept them away.

  It didn’t hurt, of course, that she stood in front of the entire host of the Diamond Warriors. Or that Estrella came out to walk among the nobles, letting them gaze upon the Lightstone. They must have experienced something of Estrella’s dazzling hope for the future. And my own. The sword I would always keep bright and shining within myself could tear them open to all the agony of battle, yes, but also to the joy of feeling within themselves a bright flame that could never go out.

  And so, in the end, they did kneel to Atara. And then, with a cold clarity of will, but with compassion, too, she told them: ‘You are Alonia’s greatest lords and enjoy great wealth and repute, and so upon you the burden of bringing justice to our land will be the greatest.’

  She turned in the direction of Duke Parran, and to him, she said, ‘It is hard being taxed, is it not? As you have taxed the peasants who work your lands. They give you a three-quarters share of the crops they cultivate for the privilege of living in the hovels that you provide them.’

  She told him, and the other lords, that henceforth they would be entitled to only a quarter share as rent and that they must build for their peasants houses of good, clean stone. Furthermore, over a span of years, they must allow these poor people to buy the lands that they worked for their own.

  ‘All Alonians shall be free,’ she said to them. ‘As you shall be free from the burden of oppressing men and women whom you have made almost slaves. But free for what? Only to create. It stands written in the Valkariad: “They shall make themselves wings of light and fly across the stars.”’

  Here she paused to lay her hand over her belly, and she said to them: ‘My son will never be what he should be until you become what you were born to be.’

  She went on to tell them that on the site of the destroyed Tur-Tisander she would order a great granite stone to be set into the earth. And on this Victory Spire, as it would be called, the names of those who worked the hardest to remake Alonia would be inscribed.

  I could not tell if the assembled lords would strive to attain such an honor with the same zeal they had devoted toward the acquisition of wealth, power and glory. They gazed at their new queen as many now looked toward the future which had come upon the world so suddenly: in fear of the unknown, but with a new hope, too.

  Later, after the nobles had gone off and my warriors had stood down, I walked with Atara arm in arm along the edge of what had been the Elu Gardens. Morjin had burned these acres of flowers and trees down to char; now gardeners and others whom Atara could not see worked planting seeds and tending new shoots of gold and green.

  Finally, she stopped and said to me, ‘It is strange. Our struggles these past years nearly killed us, so many times. And did kill you! It has all been so terribly, terribly hard. Battles, though, even the worst, all have an ending. But this battle, to create this impossible world we both have dreamed of, will go on for the rest of our lives. And that, in its own way, will be infinitely harder than suffering wounds and risking death.’

  ‘But it will also be a joy,’ I said, resting my hand upon her belly. ‘And haven’t we proved that nothing is impossible?’

  She clasped my hand, and pressed it more firmly against her. ‘I wish I could believe that, Val. I know only that now I must be a queen, as I was born to be.’

  She did not speak of either her blindness or the child growing inside her as a burden, but I felt a great heaviness pulling her down. And I said to her, ‘My queen – and that you were born to be as well.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I was. And I suppose that I shall have to marry you now. I won’t have such as Count Muar calling our son a bastard.’

  At last, we set a date for our wedding: the seventh of Soldru. In my happiness, I swept up Atara in my arms and kissed her deeply. But I, who had struck pure angel fire into the worst of men, could not find the way to drive back the darkness afflicting the woman I loved.

  The following afternoon on that same lawn, Lord Avijan – with Lord Tomavar, Lord Harsha, Lord Jessu, Lord Noldashan and all the surviving captains of Mesh – came to me and asked to return to their home.

  ‘Can we not persuade you, Sire,’ Lord Avijan asked me, ‘to reopen the Elahad castle and rule Ea from your own kingdom?’

  I would as soon live inside a dungeon as my family’s ancient castle, but I did not admit this to Lord Avijan. Instead, I told him, ‘Elahad made his residence in Tria, and long before the Star People came to Ea, so did a very great king. And so I shall, too.’

  I added that it made good sense to set my throne here in Tria, as ships could come and go through her harbor and Ea’s seas, more easily connecting all lands with each other. And now that Ea’s sovereigns had made me High King, I belonged to Ea. />
  ‘But, Sire,’ Lord Harsha said to me with much sadness, ‘we belong to Mesh. Most of us left wives and children there. I, myself, miss my land and must return to tend my crops.’

  ‘So you must,’ I said to him, grasping his arm. ‘Go back then, old friend, and plant your barley’

  I told my lords that they could return home after my coronation.

  ‘But what of the other Valari kings and their armies?’ Lord Tomavar asked me. ‘Will you let them go, too?’

  ‘I will. But from the best of their warriors, as from our own, I will choose knights, a thousand altogether, who wish to remain here as Guardians of the Lightstone.’

  ‘A small enough force,’ Lord Avijan said, ‘to protect the golden cup – and yourself.’

  ‘I will not need more. And if I do, the Valari will stand ready to march, to the end of the earth.’

  ‘To the end of the stars!’ Lord Avijan said.

  ‘Faithful Lord Avijan!’ I said, clapping my hand to his shoulder. ‘You shall be Regent of Mesh, and your sons after you. Care for our land. I shall return there, when I can.’

  Lord Avijan beamed as he bowed to me, for I did not think that he had anticipated such an honor. Lord Tomavar, watching him, might have burned with envy, for he had nearly become Mesh’s king and now must defer to his rival. But I had honors to bestow upon him, too.

  ‘Lord Tomavar!’ I called to him. ‘Of all Mesh’s warriors, none fought so fiercely or well at the Detheshaloon as you. If not for you, I think, the battle would have been lost.’

  I brought forth my brother’s diamond-dusted sharpening stone, which I had passed on to Kane, and Kalkin had given back to me.

  ‘Take this,’ I said, handing it to him, ‘that you will always keep your sword sharp and bright.’

  Then I told everyone gathered there that the soul of Lord Gorvan Tomavar shone more brightly than any steel and that he was the truest of Valari warriors.

  ‘Tomavar the True!’ I called out to him.