Nicci had endured poisons before, but she did not wish to test this, especially when she was already weak after her ordeal in the sliph. “I need to regain my strength, not diminish it. If the sliph does not respond to my summons, then I will have an arduous journey ahead of me . . . if I can find my way back.”
“We know where Ildakar is,” Cora said. “We can show you the mountains and the passes and how to get there. I am even familiar with these cities on the coast that you call Serrimundi and Tanimura, though our records are ancient.”
“How can you know about the coast if you have never left this city?” Nicci asked. “Orogang has been cut off for centuries.”
The old woman gave a mysterious smile. “That doesn’t mean we have forgotten.”
Leaving the fungus chamber, Cora led her and the others into an enclosed wing aboveground that connected to another grand building. They entered a speaking chamber with tiers of empty benches and a great open area for lectures on the floor. It was a place where Nicci could imagine shouting sessions and political debates.
On the floor stood a solid table on legs as wide as tree trunks. The table held a large, immaculately detailed relief map of the Old World sculpted out of clay and painted with natural colors. It was as if someone had shrunk down the actual mountains, valleys, and rivers of the Old World to fit there.
Bright lanterns rested on the four corners of the massive table, like suns shining down on the terrain. Previously, Nicci had seen only small swatches of the Old World marked on maps, but this three-dimensional representation encompassed the entirety of the Old World, from the coastline to the mountains and beyond.
Cora stretched out her arm and touched a bowl in the craggy mountains surrounded by difficult passes but connected by the fine lines of well-traveled imperial roads. “This is Orogang, the center of Iron Fang’s great empire.”
The old woman traced her fingertips along mountain ridges, following the roads south, plunging down into drainages and wider valleys as converging streams formed the headwaters of the Killraven River, which led south to another prominent city, Ildakar. From there, the river rolled along until it reached a widening estuary that spilled into the sea. Finding Ildakar, Nicci retraced the path that she, Nathan, and Bannon had traveled over the high pass of Kol Adair, back to the desert canyons that hid Cliffwall, and westward over more ridges to the sea and Renda Bay. She followed the coastline to the north, saw numerous shoreline cities all the way up to Serrimundi and Tanimura.
“This map was created long ago by order of Emperor Kurgan. He wanted to know the whole world, because he commanded General Utros to conquer the whole world.”
“And General Utros will return someday,” said Cyrus, who stood utterly confident, his pale chin thrust forward. “Remember the old prophecy! We have been waiting for so long, though he is surely long dead. . . .”
Nicci surprised them. “Oh, General Utros still lives. He and his giant army were turned to stone for centuries by the wizards of Ildakar, but now they have awakened.” Cyrus looked astonished by the news, but she cautioned him, “Hear me, he is no savior. Even though Iron Fang is long dead, Utros means to conquer the Old World for himself. Do not expect him to be your hero.”
“We have had legends for generation after generation.” Cyrus stiffened, squared his shoulders. “He is a great man. The prophecy tells us he is coming back for us.”
“You might have legends, but I have confronted the man myself. I know how much destruction his army will cause, how many people will die because of his ambition. You should fear him, not hope for his return.”
Cyrus scoffed, “I will believe what I wish to believe.”
Beside Nicci, Cora adjusted her gray cloak. “I would not put too much stock in legends or supposed prophecies, Cyrus. Your people have held on to a vain hope for too long. Remember, we also know silly tales about Iron Fang, myths that portray Kurgan as a brave and noble emperor, and he was certainly not worthy of legends or hope. How do you know General Utros is worthy?”
“Because I know,” Cyrus said with rising defiance. His gray eyes showed no interest in the truth. “I believe the prophecy.”
Nicci had seen the same blank and intolerant expression many times in the followers of the Imperial Order. She, too, had believed in their teachings and refused to consider that she herself might have been deluded, that she might have been wrong. Not until Richard . . .
“I know the truth as well,” Nicci said, “whether or not you believe it.”
CHAPTER 14
The huge army moved out, more than a hundred thousand soldiers along with countless cooks, carpenters, leatherworkers, swordsmiths, horse handlers, and craftsmen. Each man was responsible for his own armor, his own weapons, his own boots. He had to mend his cloak, build a fire, chop wood, dig latrines. The military force was an enormous city on the move in search of conquest.
The first divisions moved out at sunrise. They marched across the valley away from the blank space that had been Ildakar, heading toward the foothills and the mountains farther west. Second Commanders Halders and Arros mounted their warhorses and rode at the head of large companies that fell naturally into ranks.
General Utros watched from his command pavilion with Ava and Ruva hovering beside him. He was pleased that the war had actually begun again. “My army is like a great boulder on a hillside. It needs a push to start it rolling, but then it will crash downhill, unstoppable, destroying everything in its way.” The golden mask hid half of his smile. “I will be the unstoppable force that crushes the Old World into submission.”
Ava looked up at him as if she were entranced by a glamour spell. “What about King Grieve? Will you not share the land with the Norukai?”
“They are barely more than animals. Let us see how many Norukai survive after the war is won.”
With a rumble of hoofbeats, boots, and creaking wagon wheels, the army moved west toward the foothills, raising clouds of dust and ash across the burned valley floor. The soldiers had eaten all the confiscated supplies, so each man went to bed with food in his belly and few questions. They would march until General Utros told them otherwise.
He had dispatched six more expeditionary armies, each with two thousand men, to head off in different directions, seeking cities to plunder and stockpiles to raid in his name. Thus, Utros increased the size of his invasion and also decreased the number of mouths he had to feed by twelve thousand. Meanwhile, his primary force headed relentlessly over the mountains.
Knowing the situation, First Commander Enoch sat grimly in his saddle as he rode up. He looked down at General Utros and the two sorceresses, who stood together outside the command pavilion. As the remaining companies formed ranks to move out, the pavilion would be broken down and packed into supply wagons. Utros and the twins would mount up and follow the main army.
“Your soldiers are determined now, General, and they will focus on the march,” Enoch said. “But before long they will think about their sore feet and the discomfort of a rough camp. The day after that, they will think only about how hungry they are and worse, how hungry they are going to get.” He scratched a thin white scar on his cheek. “They revere you, sir, I have no doubt of that, but the pang of an empty belly for long enough may break even the greatest loyalty.”
“I know the costs of loyalty.” Utros thought of what Iron Fang had told him after discovering his affair with Empress Majel. Loyalty is greater than love. After her grisly execution in the real world, sweet Majel’s spirit had been tortured for centuries in the underworld, browbeaten and broken by her abusive husband’s dominant spirit.
Loyalty is greater than love.
“I will raid any town and dispense all supplies to my soldiers,” Utros said. “I don’t know any other way to feed them.”
Ruva spoke in a whisper as they watched the army plod toward the foothills. “My sister and I have a way to sustain them, beloved Utros. A dangerous spell. We will have to do it in secret, because the m
en will not like it, now that they’ve been restored to flesh and blood. But without our help, your army will crumble and the soldiers will die.”
A breeze stirred the heavy fabric of the pavilion, blowing dust past them. “How will you do it?” Utros asked.
Ava said, “My sister and I know a spell that can reduce the body’s need, slow and numb their appetites, change their metabolism so they will keep going, although it will not last. They will be digesting themselves.”
“The spell will also work on the functioning of their bodies,” Ruva added. “They will be able to eat anything, digest anything—grasses, trees, bones, whatever nourishment they find. The army will be like a swarm of locusts, stripping the land bare.”
“But surviving,” Ava pointed out.
When Enoch’s brow furrowed, his many scars looked like twitching worms. “It sounds like a demeaning thing.”
“If they starve and drop dead, they are no good to my war,” the general said.
“If they do collapse and fall dead on the march,” Ava said with a smile, “then thanks to this spell, the others can eat their bodies and gain even more strength.”
Utros did not need to hear more. “They will live and they will keep fighting for me. Tonight in camp, after we have crossed the first foothills, I want you to work your spell.” He sighed. “I will take the credit and the blame, if need be, once the soldiers discover what has been done to them. I promised to keep my men alive, and in this manner they will live.” He looked to the twin sorceresses. “Save them by any means necessary.”
*
The army trudged into full darkness, trampling the grassy hills and rising into thickening forests. Behind them, the ground was pounded hard by countless boots, flattened and lifeless.
After so many years of experience, the soldiers knew how to set up and break down camp with quick efficiency. Scouting parties dispersed to cut down trees and build bonfires. Second Commanders Halders and Arros distributed meager rations, promising the ranks that they would have more to eat as soon as they raided a city. The soldiers believed them, for now.
Each man found some patch of ground for his blanket where he could lie down to sleep and look up at the stars while he and his comrades remembered being human and all they had lost. They were fifteen centuries overdue to meet the Keeper.
In front of the command pavilion as darkness settled in, Ava and Ruva laid the foundations of their spell. The largest bonfire was a beacon of crackling flames and smoke from the burning green wood. Utros sat outside the newly erected pavilion where he could watch his camp and listen to the activity. Curious, First Commander Enoch joined the general as the twins made their preparations for the dark spell.
Ava and Ruva had filled small clay pots with different powders, dried blood mixed with salt, the ashes of bones, powdered roots, flower petals and berries they had collected.
When the women proclaimed themselves to be ready, both were naked, their blue gowns discarded, all hair cleanly shaved from their skin, scalp, eyebrows, armpits, even the thatch between their legs. With their bodies painted with whirling patterns of deep red, intense black, and bursts of white, Utros barely noticed their nakedness. Each woman cradled a small pot of powder against her flat stomach. “We will begin, beloved Utros.”
Ava dipped into one of the pots and held up a finger covered with a greasy yellow substance like tallow mixed with honey and sulfur. She dabbed a mark at the center of the general’s forehead at the edge of his golden half mask.
“What is this for?” he asked.
“To protect you.”
“Is your magic dangerous? Are my men at risk?”
“It will save you,” Ruva replied.
Ava smeared a dab of the substance on her own forehead, then did the same to her sister. “This will nullify the spell. The magic won’t change you. You will stay human.”
Concerned, Enoch rose to his feet. “If we are asking the soldiers to make this sacrifice, should we not do the same?”
“There was a time I would have said yes,” Utros said, “but so much is uncertain. We need to lead them, First Commander.” He gestured toward Enoch. “Give him the mark as well.”
When Ava stepped forward with the pot, Enoch raised his arm to ward her off. “I don’t want it.” But when Utros gave him a steely glare, the veteran lowered his arm with a sigh. “If you must.” As Ava marked his forehead, he asked, “Is this spell reversible? Once you have placed it on all these soldiers, can you change them back? After we achieve our victory and have all the supplies we need, can they be normal again?”
The twin sorceresses replied with noncommittal shrugs. “It’s what we have to do.”
The soldiers bedded down around their fires, exchanging stories, comparing dreams, and boasting about how wealthy they would be from the spoils of war, how many enemies they would kill.
Ava and Ruva circled the largest bonfire, throwing powders into the embers. Sparks flared and the smoke thickened, changed color, and spread like a miasma across the camp. Near their own campfires, the other soldiers didn’t notice the mysterious smoke.
The sorceresses began a low chanting. They threw blood powder, bone ashes, flammable mineral dust, dried mushrooms, and ground-up tubers. The heady smoke dispersed among the scattered soldiers, changing them, tightening their stomachs, altering their blood flow.
“I need for them to survive until we reach the big cities, and there we will take enough supplies to feed them all again,” Utros said.
“Your army will carve a swath over the mountains all the way to the coast, General,” Enoch said. “Nothing can stop them.”
“Good.” Utros crossed his muscular arms over his chest and surprised the others as he announced his unexpected decision. “For the next several days, the army is in your hands, First Commander. You will lead the continuing march, while I need to depart for another destination.” He had been considering his next move in great detail, but there was something else he had to do first. “I will take a thousand mounted soldiers and ride hard to the north. Ava and Ruva will go with me.”
Alarmed, Enoch wiped the smear of greasy yellow off his forehead now that the spell had been cast. “You leave the army under my command? Where are you going, sir? The soldiers will want to know.”
Utros nodded slowly. “Emperor Kurgan is long dead, but surely some remnant of the empire must remain. I serve the empire.” He looked through the darkness, seeing the shadowed silhouettes of hills that blocked the vault of sky. “We will make the long ride to the capital city of Orogang so that I can report to whoever is left there.”
CHAPTER 15
The defenders straggled in from their separate missions and met at a sandstone outcropping in the forest. Some looked frightened, while some were giddy with excitement. Nathan did a rough tally, guessing that several hundred ancient warriors had been killed, all told, but four D’Haran soldiers had fallen in the various skirmishes. Most battlefield commanders would consider those acceptable losses, but losing even four members of their ragtag band was a serious blow.
The last group to return included Captain Trevor and the wizard Leo. Leo was a skinny man with a narrow face, shaggy gray-black hair, and a dark goatee. He had managed two yaxen slaughterhouses in Ildakar, but those days were gone. He seemed terrified as he sat among the others beneath the sandstone overhang. His hands were covered with drying blood. “I killed people. I used my gift, and I . . . I tore them to pieces. I watched them die.”
“They were our enemies,” Zimmer said. “It is what they deserved. You already killed many on the battlefield while you were helping Elsa lay down her transference magic.”
Leo nodded, though he still looked shaken.
“That is how we survive,” Verna explained to him in a calm voice. “And there will need to be much more killing.”
Oliver and Peretta returned to the camp with water from a nearby stream, while Amber and several Sisters of the Light foraged for berries and wild vegetables. Since
they couldn’t risk building fires, Nathan used his gift to heat a flat slab of rock, which served as a stove, and Rendell made a decent meal by boiling dried beans along with some wild onions. They shared stories as they ate.
As he listened to Renn talk about Hanavir, Nathan absently rubbed the scar on his chest. Although his new heart beat steadily, he felt a dark vengeance trying to gain hold of his thoughts. A foreign part of his mind, some stain of Chief Handler Ivan that still dwelled inside the heart, chastised him about what he had done when faced with the terrible decision. Ivan’s sour presence complained that Nathan and Renn should have shown no mercy, that the weak townspeople of Hanavir were a necessary sacrifice to stop the raiding party. They deserved it. How many more people would die, now that General Utros could feed his army? Nathan gritted his teeth. His heart—Ivan’s heart—beat like a loud primal drum inside his chest.
Trying to drown out the unwelcome thoughts, he lurched to his feet, startling the others as he breathed hard and heavy to drive back the pain. “Hanavir could have gone a different way,” he said, interrupting Renn and ignoring the alarmed expressions around him, “but then there would have been more bloodshed. We have to save people where we can and when we can!” His pulse calmed as he exerted control over his rebellious heart. He sat back down, insisting he was all right, and quietly ate his beans.
Thorn, who had accompanied General Zimmer’s group, proudly told of how they had defeated a hundred and twenty armed soldiers outside of a mining village. She and her sister morazeth Lyesse compared notes about their victims. Nathan found their discussion an odd mixture of boasting and technical advice on killing the enemy.
With a concerned look, Verna offered him a handful of berries that Amber had gathered. “Is this our life now, Nathan? Hiding in the forest, harassing the fringes of an overwhelming army, and then running again?”
Lyesse heard the comment and made a defensive reply. “We’re more nimble than the army is. Our small group can strike and run, strike and run. Given several years, we will decimate them.”
Heart of Black Ice (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles Book 4) Page 9