The Daylight War

by Peter V. Brett

  And gaped.

  – She is your zahven, and carries a child.—

  27

  Waning

  333 AR Autumn

  Waning

  ‘How does it work?’ Jardir asked, staring in fascination at the Skull Throne, now sheathed in electrum. She had drawn the thick curtains in the throne room, allowing his crownsight though sunset was still an hour away. He could see the steady stream of power the throne radiated in every direction. Its centre shone hot with concentrated magic, like a miniature sun.

  ‘Your throne now projects a—’ Inevera began.

  ‘—warding field,’ Jardir finished for her. ‘Not even the princes of Nie will be able to approach my seat …’ He turned, following the path of the magic, looking through the great stone walls as easily as one might look through glass. ‘… for miles.’

  It was truly amazing. The Crown of Kaji could repel alagai as well. Jardir had mastered its power in recent weeks, learning to extend the protection far beyond his physical reach. No alagai could approach within a quarter mile of him, but that he willed it. He could protect an army on the field, but this, this protected the entire inner city and beyond. The demons might strike at his walls, even knock them down, but they would never get past them.

  He looked back at Inevera, his mouth curling in a smile. ‘I did not ask what it did, beloved. I asked how it worked.’

  Inevera’s aura flushed with shock, and then disappointment that she would not be able to parade around the marvel she had made, revealing its power to him in teasing bits.

  Let her have the moment next time, he chided himself. With this gift, she has earned it a thousandfold.

  To his surprise, Inevera laughed. Not the bark of derision she threw now and then, but a full laugh, infectious and true. There was no more beautiful sound in all Everam’s creation.

  ‘You never cease to amaze me, Ahmann,’ Inevera said. ‘Every time I begin to question, you remind me you truly are Shar’Dama Ka.’

  Jardir might have doubted, but her aura swelled with pride and he knew she meant every word. He reached out, touching her cheek, and watched the shiver it sent through her spirit. ‘I understand perfectly … Damajah.’ He bent and kissed her, feeling himself flush at the passion she was radiating. She might lie to him when she thought it necessary, but Inevera’s love for him was true. What more could a man ask in his Jiwah Ka?

  She took a step back when he broke the kiss, reining her feelings in. He was amazed at her control, watching the hot chaos of her aura quickly become cool, ordered. Now was not the time.

  ‘The skull of an alagai prince has been added to your sacred throne, amplifying the wards that have adorned the skulls of martyred Sharum Ka for centuries,’ Inevera said. ‘We used almost all the electrum to coat it …’

  ‘Almost?’ Jardir asked, smiling.

  Inevera returned the grin, showing him her dice, now safely encased in the bright white metal. ‘You have your tools, and now I have mine.’ Her aura said she had coated more than just her dice, but he let her have her secrets. She was his Damajah, and it was fitting she wield power of her own.

  ‘I was right to give the metal to you,’ Jardir said. ‘Abban would have found a clever use for it, no doubt, but would never have thought of something so …’

  ‘Altruistic?’ Inevera supplied, and he had to laugh.

  ‘Unprofitable,’ he agreed.

  ‘I do not trust the khaffit, husband,’ Inevera said.

  ‘Abban is as loyal to me as you are,’ Jardir said.

  Inevera shook her head. ‘He is loyal to himself first, and you second.’

  Jardir nodded. ‘The same could be said of you, Bride of Everam.’

  ‘There is a difference in serving the Creator first,’ Inevera said.

  ‘Yes,’ Jardir agreed. ‘And no. No mortal man or woman can truly trust another, beloved. And yet somehow we must find a way, if we are to win Sharak Ka. Waning is upon us. Now is the time to face the dark, not worry about poisoned blades at our backs.’

  Inevera opened her mouth to reply, but Jardir touched a finger to her lips. ‘You are the Bride of Everam, wife, yet I am the one with faith. Not just in the Creator, but in His children.’

  ‘Faith never gets the weaving done, my mother used to say,’ Inevera said. ‘The Creator helps those who earn it.’ Her aura called him a brave fool.

  ‘“The Creator helps”,’ Jardir repeated. ‘Do you think it coincidence we found the sacred metal of Kaji just weeks before the greatest test of my reign? We do not fight Nie alone, even if He does not strike the alagai down Himself. And if I am to deliver this world, I must believe that for all our differences, no one, man, woman or child, wishes it to fall to the alagai.’

  Inevera did not argue further, but her aura remained unconvinced.

  ‘Your mother was a weaver?’ he asked, trying to change the subject. ‘I assumed she was dama’ting.’

  Inevera’s aura suddenly went wild. There was shock, and fear, and a secret. Enough to fill him with questions, but not enough to answer them. He wondered if this was what reading the alagai hora was like for her.

  ‘You never speak of your family,’ he pressed, watching closely.

  Inevera’s aura showed her searching desperately for a way to evade the question and change the subject. She gave off the scent of a cornered animal that would rather flee than fight. But then her chest rose and fell several times in rhythm, and a wave of calm spread over her.

  ‘Most dama’ting are the daughters of our order,’ she said. ‘Some few others are called by the dice in Hannu Pash. We cut off all contact with our families when called, and they do not know our fate from the moment we are taken.’

  It was fascinating. Every word she said was true, and yet it read on her aura as a lie. ‘But you did not.’

  Inevera smiled. A practised distraction while she breathed herself into serenity. She was wondering how much he knew, if he had been spying on her. She was carefully choosing words to reveal nothing she did not wish.

  Jardir was tiring of the game. ‘Jiwah, you will stop your dissembling.’

  His tone was harsh, and he watched as she leapt on it, using the excuse to get angry as a way to avoid the topic. Her brows drew into the thundercloud she had practised to perfection.

  He smiled. ‘Stop that, too.’ He moved to her, taking her in his arms. She stiffened, and there was a token resistance as he pulled her close. ‘Do you love me, jiwah?’

  ‘Of course, husband,’ Inevera said without hesitation.

  ‘And do you trust me?’

  There was a spike in her aura, and the slightest delay. ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a lie, not precisely, but neither was it truth.

  ‘I do not know what secret you hold about your family,’ Jardir said. ‘But I see that you hold one, and that dishonours me.’ Inevera pulled back and tried to speak, but he shook his head. ‘When we wed, it was more than a union between us. Your family became mine, and mine yours. Whatever it is, I have a right to know.’

  Inevera stared at him a long moment, her aura so chaotic he could not guess what her response would be. But then it calmed once more. ‘My parents are alive and in Everam’s Bounty. They are a source both of pride and of shame to me, and I fear for them if our relation is revealed.’ She met his eyes and bowed. ‘It was wrong of me to keep this secret from you, beloved. For this, I apologize.’

  Jardir nodded. ‘Accepted, on one condition.’

  Inevera raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I want to meet them,’ Jardir said.

  ‘I do not think that is wise, husband,’ Inevera said. ‘They would be in danger …’

  ‘I am Shar’Dama Ka,’ Jardir said. ‘I have hundreds of relatives. You think I cannot protect them?’

  ‘Not without costing them the simple life they enjoy now, far from palace intrigue,’ Inevera said.

  Jardir laughed. ‘You can engineer my nieces into the ranks of Sharum, but not plot a way for me to meet your parents away from pry
ing eyes? We both know you can find a way if you wish it.’

  Inevera regarded him, still wary. ‘And if I do not wish it?’

  Jardir shrugged. ‘Then I will know I come third in your eyes, and not second after Everam, as you claim.’

  The curtains were still drawn as the counsellors entered the throne room. A few oil lamps gave artificial light, preserving Jardir’s crownsight as he regarded Jayan and his twelve Damaji. At the side of each of the tribal leaders were his second sons, and in Ashan’s case his nephew. Save for Asome and Asukaji, both eighteen years old, all were fifteen. Not wholly boys, but not men, either, still in the white bidos of nie’dama, a strip of white cloth thrown over one shoulder.

  He could see in their auras that the Damaji still resented the boys who had displaced their own heirs. Leadership of a tribe was not automatically hereditary as it was in the green lands, but it was functionally so, with the brothers, sons, and nephews of the Damaji holding every advantage.

  More, he could see the ties that bound the men to him like threads in the air. The common Sharum and dama might truly believe Jardir divine, but the Damaji served out of fear.

  If I die this night, he thought, my sons will be killed the moment it is known. Jayan might hold his grip on the white turban, perhaps, and Ashan would protect Asukaji and Asome, but the other Damaji would not hesitate to slaughter his nie’dama sons. Aleverak would not break his oath not to harm Maji, but that oath had a clause they knew well. The ancient Damaji would drink poison to allow one of his sons to do the deed.

  The Damaji talked among themselves, but Jardir thumped his spear once, and they fell silent. ‘Waning is upon us, Damaji. Alagai Ka and his princelings will rise tonight to test our people as we have not been since the Return.’ He could see doubt in some of the men, and fear in others. Most, however, held the flat control of years of meditation. ‘Jayan,’ he looked to the boy, seeing in his aura an eager excitement and a hope to prove himself, ‘will lead the Sharum.’

  There was a burst of chatter at that. Jardir thumped his spear again.

  ‘Forgive us, Deliverer,’ Damaji Aleverak said. ‘Jayan has done well as Sharum Ka, and we offer no disrespect, but is it not the place of Shar’Dama Ka to lead in Sharak Ka?’

  Jardir nodded. ‘I will stand beside my son for as long as I may, but when the princes of Nie show themselves, I must be free to act.’

  ‘And what will our place be?’ Asome asked.

  Jardir looked at his son, seeing the seething anger beneath his calm exterior. ‘The dama will beseech Everam’s favour in the coming battle. That is no small thing, my son.’ He could see immediately that Asome thought prayer less than nothing with demons at the walls, but hoped he was wise enough not to voice the feeling.

  Asome was not so easily deterred. ‘Why do dama study sharusahk, Father?’

  ‘Eh?’ Jardir asked.

  ‘Since I took my first steps, I have been practising the sharukin,’ Asome said. ‘I know of none, dama or Sharum, who can stand against me.’

  Jayan snorted. ‘You boast because you have never faced a real opponent. You would find the alagai more formidable than the empty air you fought in Sharik Hora.’

  Asome turned to his elder brother and sneered openly. ‘Come at me then, O great killer of alagai, and we will see.’

  Jayan growled and took a step forward.

  ‘You will do no such thing!’ Jardir shouted with a thump of the spear. He had forbidden all of his sons to fight one another, even in sparring, and the wisdom of that decree was never clearer. He could see in their auras that Jayan and Asome would not hesitate to kill each other to clear their own path to the Skull Throne. ‘I will not have my sons brawling like nie’Sharum in the gruel line!’

  Asome turned back to him, bowing. ‘As you command, Father, but you have not answered my question. I am forbidden to fight my brother. I am forbidden to fight the alagai. You have abolished the title of Andrah, so there is no need to fight the Damaji for the throne. Why have I spent every day of my life learning to fight, if I must stand idly by as Alagai Ka walks the land?’

  Jardir hesitated. In truth, he could not disagree. Prayer would not help this night. But the Damaji and dama were not just Holy Men to his people; they were the secular leaders as well. The clerics were masters of sharusahk, but with the exception of Ashan they had never personally faced the alagai, and would offer little aid in coming battle. When dawn finally came, they would be essential in restoring order.

  ‘There is wisdom in what you say,’ Jardir admitted, ‘but Jayan speaks truly that the alagai are a foe the dama are not prepared for, and you yourself said Waning was not the time to introduce untried forces into alagai’sharak.’ He deepened his tone and swept his spear across the men in white. ‘The dama will bestow the blessings of the Creator upon the assembled men, and then go to the underpalace.’

  Asome gave no outward sign as he bowed, back straight with dignity, but his aura seethed with rage, even as Jayan’s danced in delight. Already Jardir was regretting the decision, but it was done and he could not be forsworn with all Nie’s abyss about to rise.

  ‘Go!’ He clapped his hands, and the men began to file out. ‘Ashan,’ he called, and the Damaji waited behind as the others left. Jardir descended from the dais to stand beside him, Inevera following a step behind.

  Ashan had been at Jardir’s side for twenty-five years, steadfast in his support as Jardir climbed the rungs of Krasian society to his place of power. The Damaji was married to his eldest sister, and had produced children of shared blood. There was no reason to doubt his devotion, but still Jardir called upon the powers of his crown, not just reading his surface aura, but probing deeply into his very spirit.

  He saw in his friend’s heart that his trust had not been misplaced. Ashan did not crave power for its own sake, and truly believed, where many other Damaji did not, that Jardir was the Deliverer, sent by Everam to remake the world. He was not happy about the fate of Ashia, but he remained fiercely loyal.

  ‘Brother,’ he said, putting his hands on Ashan’s shoulders. ‘If I am killed tonight, you must take the Skull Throne.’ Ashan’s aura lit up in surprise, though Inevera’s remained flat, waiting for him to finish speaking.

  ‘Do not hesitate,’ Jardir said. ‘Announce your claim as Andrah and have Aleverak taken into custody. Kill the other Damaji before they have time to scheme.’ He looked hard into Ashan’s eyes. ‘Before they have time to kill my sons.’

  Ashan nodded. ‘And then?’

  ‘The Spear of Kaji will go to Jayan,’ Jardir said, ‘but you will hold the crown and throne until the Damajah declares my successor.’

  Ashan’s aura went white with shock, followed quickly with derision as he turned to regard Inevera, whose aura was now warm with approval. ‘You will deny your firstborn his birthright, and let a woman decide the fate of our people?’

  Jardir nodded. ‘It was she who picked me, Ashan. We both know Jayan is not yet worthy, and may never be.’

  ‘And what of Asome?’ Ashan demanded. ‘I love your second son as if he were my own, and we have been grooming him since birth to be Andrah. Why should I take the Skull Throne and not him?’

  ‘I have looked into Asome’s heart, brother. He is no more ready than Jayan to rule, and if he sits above his brother, there will be blood on the streets. I have fifty-two sons, but most are still in the bido, or just out of it. It may be years before the worthiest is known.’

  He tightened his hands, feeling the bones in Ashan’s shoulders grind and strain. The Damaji’s aura showed the pain, but he gave no indication of it. ‘For the good of our people, you will protect my Jiwah Ka and obey her in this, or I will find you in the afterlife, and we will have a reckoning.’

  Ashan’s aura went cold for a moment, then warmed with determination. ‘That will not be necessary, Deliverer. If you should fall, it will be as you command.’ He looked up, meeting Jardir’s eyes. ‘But do not fall … brother.’

  Jardir laughed and
embraced him. ‘If I do, I will take Alagai Ka down with me.’

  ‘On alagai talons!’ the warriors roared, a call that must reach all the way to Heaven.

  Jardir looked out over the assembled warriors with pride as Ashan led the Damaji in bestowing the blessings of Everam upon them. The sun was setting, and though it would still be some time before the alagai dare surface, wisps of magic were beginning to rise in the shadows, and his senses were coming alive.

  The trained and blooded Sharum radiated confidence and faith, ready to fight and die on alagai talons, as was their right and honour. Their belief strengthened him, as did the knowledge that Inevera had secured the inner city. No matter what happened, his people would survive.

  He rode with Jayan and the Spears of the Deliverer towards the wall of the outer city where Inevera had predicted the fighting would be thickest. She had been unable to fathom where the demons would strike first, but many futures held a single field littered with dead. Jardir prayed they weren’t riding into a trap.

  He heard the crack of a whip, and turned to see a long line of chin marching for the wall. There were hundreds of them, lightly armed and armoured with warded spears and small shields, but they did not carry the weapons with confidence. All were shackled, connected by long chains threaded through iron loops, and their fear was palpable. These were men marching resignedly to their deaths, terrified of the lonely path. Many would not even have the courage to fight. They would break before the alagai like water poured on stone.

  Jardir pulled up his white charger, and the others stopped with him. ‘Who are those men?’

  ‘Chin who have tried to flee the call to alagai’sharak, or dishonoured themselves in the night,’ Jayan said. ‘They are to be tethered like nie’Sharum, the chains staked in position. If they will not fight for honour, let them fight for their own lives.’

  ‘Halt!’ Jardir cried to the Sharum driving the line, and the men immediately stopped. All eyes turned to Jardir as he sprang lightly to his feet upon his horse’s back for all to see. He looked to the condemned men.