The Daylight War

by Peter V. Brett

  Follow the Shar’Dama Ka’s khaffit, Inevera told them with quick gestures of her nimble fingers. Track his every movement, and report to me everyone he speaks with, everywhere he goes. Infiltrate the fortress he is building, and take stock of the secrets within.

  The men moved their fingers in perfect unison, like mirror images of one another. We understand, and obey. They bowed, and vanished as Inevera began the long climb back up to the palace proper.

  Even after months, Jardir still marvelled at the lightness of his fighting robes as Inevera helped him prepare for the night’s alagai’sharak. No longer thick material housing metal plates, he now wore thin silk that could be quickly cast aside to bring his skin, scarred into fighting and protective wards, to bear. He was now safer naked than in the strongest armour.

  ‘I will join you tonight as you walk the naked night,’ Inevera said, when the dressing was done.

  Jardir looked at her, but the sun had not quite set, and her aura was hidden. ‘I do not think that is wise, beloved. Alagai’sharak is no …’

  Inevera hissed, dismissing his words with a wave. ‘You will walk the night with Leesha Paper, but not your Jiwah Ka?’

  In his heart, Jardir knew the anger on her face was only a mask. He would bet his crown that she had planned this conversation well in advance, likely with the aid of her dice. But even so, he could not deny the effectiveness of her scowl.

  Perhaps it was because she was right.

  The look softened immediately, and Inevera pressed in so close he could feel the warmth and softness of her skin through his silk robes. ‘I battled at your side against an alagai prince and his bodyguard,’ she reminded him. ‘What need I fear of common demons when I walk at the side of Shar’Dama Ka?’

  ‘Even common demons must be respected,’ he said, though he knew she had already won. ‘Forget that for an instant, and even the Damajah can be killed.’ He reached out, sliding his hand under the vaporous silks to caress the smooth skin between her breasts, feeling the beat of her heart. ‘Chosen of Everam or not, we are but flesh and blood.’

  Inevera moved into his caress, snaking her own hands into his robes. ‘I will not forget, beloved.’ She traced her fingers over the wards she had cut into his chest. ‘But do not forget that as you have your protections, I have my own.’

  Jardir smiled. ‘Of that, I have no doubt.’

  They left the palace together, Inevera resting in a palanquin atop a camel and Jardir on his white charger. They were followed by the amazed stares of everyone they passed, but none dared speak a word of protest.

  Despite his words, Jardir did not truly fear for his bride. Most of the demons had been cleared from his territory, and the thin remainder served as little more than a training exercise for his men.

  Everam’s Bounty was built like the head of a sunflower with the city proper as its centre, spreading out into vast petals of farm and pasture. The central city was Jardir’s personal territory, and tribe neutral. It consisted of an inner walled district surrounded by a much larger outer city. The petals he had given to the tribes according to their size. The Kaji, Majah, and Mehnding controlled huge territories of individually warded farmland and villages. The smaller tribes were given as much land as they could hold, and to spare. Even so, there were chin villages on the outskirts that had yet to fully take the yoke, simply because there were not enough Sharum and dama to minister them.

  Many of Jardir’s warriors remained spread over these territories – both a weakness and a strength. Decentralizing his forces weakened them in some ways, but it made it as difficult for the alagai to choose targets as it was for him to guess where they would strike hardest. Each tribe had its own strongholds and was responsible for seeing as many of its people and as much of its produce as possible through the Waning. But all sent Jayan a tithe of their best men to defend the capital.

  Jayan was at the training grounds when they arrived, supervising the muster of these elite warriors. His white turban singled him out from a distance, surrounded by his white-veiled kai’Sharum. Asome was with him, leading the men in prayer to almighty Everam before the sun set and Nie’s abyss opened.

  The two men looked up at their approach, and despite their rivalry, Jardir could not deny his pleasure at seeing his eldest sons standing together, leading his forces. As children they had dreamed of being Sharum Ka and Andrah, a dream shared by their father. Already, Jayan had taken his title, and Asome was readying for his.

  Jayan bowed deeply, but his disapproval was clear as he eyed his mother, outside after the dama had sung the curfew. Asome likely shared his opinion, but the younger man’s face was blank, revealing nothing. Jayan had learned well the strategy and fighting skills of the dama in Sharik Hora, but their discipline had been a harder lesson. Not for the first time, Jardir wondered at the wisdom of giving him the white turban when he was so young. It was difficult to teach a man discipline when he already sat a throne.

  ‘Your warriors stand ready for inspection, Father,’ Jayan said. While not skilled at hiding his feelings, he wasn’t fool enough to disrespect his mother by speaking his thoughts aloud. It was not out of respect for his father – though they both knew Jardir would not hesitate to put the boy down should he think himself above the Damajah. Inevera had instilled fear of her own into her sons, and even now they grew chill at the notion of disobedience.

  None of your sons is worthy, the dice had said, and in his heart Jardir knew it to be true. With the magic of the crown and spear strengthening him and keeping him young, Jardir might live for centuries, as did Kaji. But he was not fool enough to fail to prepare for his death. If he could not find an heir to take his place as Shar’Dama Ka, perhaps he could leave Jayan the spear and Asome the crown. Again he wondered at the secret Inevera was keeping from him. Who was the other she had seen?

  Inevera took in the assembled warriors, and Jardir felt himself swell with pride. In the years since he had taken the white turban of Sharum Ka, he had built them up with blood and sweat from a loose group of shrinking tribal militias to an elite fighting force unified in purpose and growing exponentially in number.

  Even the assembled kha’Sharum and chi’Sharum were marching with precision. He had been amazed at how effective the khaffit warriors had proven, and while most greenlanders remained soft and cowardly, many were finding their hearts. The rest would slow the alagai long enough for his real warriors to slaughter them, and go to Everam clean of spirit.

  He looked to Inevera, but she only shrugged. ‘It is as I expected. Let us tour the defences.’

  Jardir tried not to feel stung as he turned to Jayan and Asome. ‘The inner city is yours tonight, my sons. We will range as the Damajah wills. The Spears of the Deliverer will see to our protection.’

  Inevera touched his arm. ‘I would feel safer, beloved, with our sons leading our honour guard.’

  Jardir looked at her curiously, wishing the sun would set so he could pierce the veil of serenity on her face to find the truth of her intentions. At last he shrugged.

  Jayan turned, giving last orders to his kai’Sharum. Immediately the units began to break out of the training ground on their way to their posts.

  Asome bowed deeply. ‘It is our honour to escort our divine mother.’ He called for his horse, a white charger like the one his father rode, save for a black diamond at its forehead. Jayan signalled for his, a black charger with white fetlocks and muzzle. They flanked Jardir and Inevera as they rode, followed in turn by the Spears of the Deliverer on their great black mustang.

  As they conducted the tour Jardir lamented – not for the first time – how woefully insecure the greenland city was. The very weaknesses that had allowed his warriors to take ‘Fort’ Rizon so easily made the coming Waning fill him with dread. In time he would make Everam’s Bounty more impregnable than the Desert Spear itself, but for now he was left to work with what the lax Northern barbarians had built.

  The inner city was the most defensible area, but also the most obvio
us target, as it housed the grain silos and Jardir’s seat of power. It was also where, lacking a proper Undercity, the women and children of the outer regions would be sent to take refuge. Even the chin were to be taken in. The Damaji had protested, but Jardir ignored them. It was the duty of men to protect women and children. Even chin.

  The greenlanders claimed no alagai had penetrated the inner city in a century, but Jardir suspected it was because it had never truly been tested. The wardwall was barely taller than most rock demons. His stonemasons and Warders had been adding to it since they took the city, but it was still pathetic compared with the great wardwall of the Desert Spear. Jardir looked at the scorpions and stone slingers lining the newly built crenellations and hoped they would be enough to hold back a more direct assault. He was prepared for fighting in the streets of the main city, but if it came to that, it would mean the battle was going very badly.

  The next line of defence was the outer city, several times the size of the inner and protected by a wardwall so low a man could leap over it. This wall had stone wardpillars like the obelisks of Anoch Sun set every twenty feet, casting overlapping protections to strengthen the defensive field.

  Pillars throughout the outer city linked with it and one another, maintaining a net to cover the land from above as well, protecting the New Bazaar, orchards, and farmland that the inner city needed to survive.

  The territory had been too vast for the chin to ward completely, leaving many pockets large enough for demons to rise. These were hunted clean each night, but places where the demons could infiltrate if they rose in numbers. Even with thousands of chin conscripts, Jardir did not have enough men to guard them all.

  Yet despite these weaknesses, the outer city was surprisingly defensible. A single thrown boulder could take out a wardpillar, but the gap would soon be closed by another, each able to work independent of the others. This created a Maze of sorts, and his men knew well how to fight in a Maze, filling it with lures, pits, and ambush points. Alagai attempting to make their way to the inner city’s walls would be harried every step of the way.

  Darkness fell as they rode, and with it came the welcome glow of crownsight. He felt his senses sharpen even further as his powers came to life, picking out the cries of alagai and the clash of spears and shields as the Sharum made their ambushes. It seemed a sin that Jardir felt more comfortable at night than in the day, but no thing happened but that Everam willed it. The Shar’Dama Ka needed to be at home in darkness.

  He glanced at his sons, and took hope seeing they, too, were pondering the defences. Occasionally they came upon groups of Sharum engaged in fighting, but in most cases it was firmly under control, with seasoned warriors using the sparse demons as living lessons to the less experienced. Once they witnessed a more protracted battle, but even that was handled smoothly without need of their interference.

  ‘Have you seen all you wish, my wife?’ Jardir asked after they had ridden for more than an hour. He watched her aura carefully, but it was calm and smooth, telling him nothing.

  ‘Almost, husband.’ Inevera pointed to a hillock not far off. ‘But first, perhaps we could have a greater vantage atop there?’

  Jardir nodded, and they set off. It came as no surprise when the sounds of battle reached his ears.

  From atop the hill, they saw a reap of field demons in the valley below, circling a pair of slender dal’Sharum standing back-to-back. The warriors seemed unharmed, but they were outnumbered more than three to one, and thus unlikely to remain so. On foot, the warriors could not hope to escape. Even Krasian chargers could not outsprint a field demon.

  Jardir tensed, ready to gallop to their aid, when Inevera raised a hand. ‘Just watch, beloved. We are not meant to interfere.’

  All three men looked at Inevera, but she sat serene in her palanquin, her aura calm, though laced with satisfaction. They turned back, watching the battle unfold.

  ‘Who are they?’ Jayan wondered. ‘What unit are they from? This pocket isn’t due to be swept for another hour.’

  Just then the largest of the field demons broke the circling ring to leap at one of the warriors who seemed to have dropped his guard. It was a lure, and the warrior whirled the moment the attack came, driving his spear right down its throat. Another demon leapt at the opening, but the warrior’s partner had his shield in place to block. He struck a blow of his own, hard in the foreleg joint, that sent the demon skittering back with a yelp.

  From the other side of the ring, more attacks came, but the first warrior pulled his ichor-stained spear free and they rotated a quarter turn in perfect precision to put his shield in place.

  So impressed was Jardir with the warriors’ skill, it took him a moment to realize there had been no flare of magic when the warriors struck. He looked to Inevera. ‘Their spears are not warded?’

  Inevera shook her head. ‘They fight in the old way, as did my honoured husband.’

  ‘Everam’s beard,’ Jayan said. Even he had never faced an alagai without a warded weapon. Asome was silent, but he drew wards in the air, blessing the combatants.

  Without combat magic the Sharum blows had to be precise, for the demons’ armour had few weaknesses, and they healed quickly. The field demons struck like lightning, flashing paws and snapping jaws, sometimes darting in low and others standing on hind legs to strike high. After the first of them fell, its fellows grew more cautious, the quick and agile beasts dodging return blows the moment they began.

  But the warriors fought like nothing Jardir had ever seen, working in perfect unison, like a single fighter with two heads and four arms. Again and again the demons were thrown back, until one, struck what seemed a glancing blow by one of the warriors, had its leg collapse under it. The pair had already begun to turn, and the other warrior put the sharp point of his spear into its eye socket and the brain beyond, killing it.

  They might have fallen into a more defensive posture then, but instead the warriors exploded into motion, spinning to let a pouncing demon get between them. They stepped together hard, the defensive wards on their shields flaring and crushing the demon between them.

  Now outnumbered two to one, the warriors grew more bold, stepping apart and letting the demons surround them.

  Fools, Jardir thought. Why give up the advantage?

  But the warriors had given up nothing. The demons came at them from all sides, but they used their shields to maximum effect, whipping their spears to parry and harry as they moved, every step in control. A demon charged one headlong while his shield and spear were out wide, but the warrior leaned forward and kicked his foot up behind him like a scorpion to strike over his head. The demon took the blow to the face, knocking it aside. Before it could recover, he was on its fellow, striking a precise blow down its throat for another kill.

  The other warrior had finished a demon as well, and fighting one-to-one they dropped their shields, forgoing defence entirely. The demons attacking them went for the bait, snapping their jaws forward, but the warriors, like mirror images of each other, caught the bites on the shafts of their spears, twisting before the wood could shatter and turning the demons’ own momentum against them. They swung, slamming the flailing demons together, taking satisfaction at the deep gouges their talons left on one another. They snapped their spears back into position and struck at the wounds, driving into the vulnerable flesh beneath.

  They stood breathless, regarding the alagai corpses around them. One twitched, but the nearest warrior was quick to finish it off as Inevera kicked her camel and headed down the hill towards them.

  Jardir and the others followed, awestruck. When they closed in, the warriors bowed deeply, first to Inevera, and then to Jardir. When they straightened, Jardir’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. Their warrior’s garb hid much, but their auras could not hide the curves of their bodies.

  Women.

  ‘Shar’Dama Ka,’ their melodious voices said in unison, ‘we come before you to answer your call. We pray these alagai are a worthy sacri
fice for the first of your Sharum’ting.’

  ‘Sharum … ting?’ Jayan said in disbelief.

  In response, the women reached up, removing their turbans and veils with the same synchronous precision with which they fought. Jardir held his breath, having already identified them by their auras. Inevera was clever. He could not deny it. But she had struck a hornets’ nest this time. Even Asome’s calm was broken. ‘What in Nie’s abyss?!’

  ‘Shanvah?’ Shanjat demanded, seeing his daughter, Jardir’s niece by his sister Hoshvah, standing before them.

  But it was the other woman that caused Asome’s aura to flare so bright with rage that Jardir felt blinded by it even in periphery. Ashia, Ashan’s daughter by his eldest sister, Imisandre.

  Asome’s First Wife.

  Dawn was approaching; the stained-glass windows of the throne room beginning to fill with colour. Every ancient rite of Sharum naming had been observed. The young women had more than fulfilled the demon killing requirements, standing face-to-face with alagai in the naked night and not giving ground. Inevera had cast the bones for them, and – of course – pronounced them worthy. Now all that was left was to wait for sunrise, and his decision.

  It was not an easy decision to make. Beyond the far-reaching cultural implications, either choice would directly cost him respect and loyalty from valuable allies and family.

  He looked at Inevera, her aura still infuriatingly self-satisfied. She loved him, but that was not the same as being on his side. She seemed almost bored as she lounged on her bed of pillows, but beneath she was intensely focused.

  Beside her on his throne, Jardir watched as Asome and Ashia quietly argued in a small alcove at the far end of the room. It took only a little concentration to see through the stone and make out their auras. His sharp ears picked up every word.

  ‘How can you shame me like this?’ Asome demanded, his hands shaking. Jardir had made a point of reminding him that he considered striking his sister’s daughters as great a crime as striking a dama’ting, but Asome’s aura showed he was considering it anyway.