“She’s right,” said Chintil. “Eldest, you and the apprentices must stay well behind the lines—preferably sheltered by a dune. That doesn’t mean you won’t be in danger. The kinds of weapons Kai Tau has been trying to build, no one will be safe for miles around.”
Navroz pressed her lips together but did not argue further.
A shout went up outside, and Barkav stood in a hurry, almost knocking over a wooden cupboard of pots and pans. “Ghasil and Saninda are here,” he said in triumph. “We are ready to move.”
Kyra put down her cup of tea. She looked as if she was going to be sick. Rustan grasped her hand and she threw him a smile. “Just one more thing I need,” she said, and her gaze went to the Mistress of Meditation. “From the funerary chamber. Elder Mumuksu, please get it.”
Various expressions flitted across Mumuksu’s face: astonishment, horror, resignation, understanding. Rustan had no time to wonder what it was Kyra needed, for the Maji-khan beckoned him, but he would remember Mumuksu’s reaction later during the battle, when Kyra transformed herself into someone he could not recognize, someone to fear.
Chapter 41
The Ride to Jethwa
They left at dawn, using the Ferghana Hub to Transport to the Thar Desert. Kyra quashed her misgivings about the door and went ahead with just Rustan to test it. Meanwhile, one of the Markswomen was sent to the Temple of Valavan to confirm and coordinate the attack plan.
Somehow, Rustan’s presence made the experience seem more ordinary and safe than it actually was. As they sat down next to each other, Kyra took a deep breath. This was her last chance to say anything meaningful to him before the fight. “I’m glad you’re with me,” she said at last, with a catch in her voice. “There’s no one else I’d rather die with than you.”
Rustan grazed her cheek with his fingertips. “There’s no one else I’d rather live with than you.”
“You mean, after this . . .” She stopped, unable to go on, unable to put words to her want.
He bent toward her and kissed her forehead. “We’ll find a way to be together, at least some of the time. If that’s what you wish.”
It is, oh, it is. Kyra slipped her arms around him and held him hard.
But right then, the spinning room slowed and stopped. Never had the experience of Transport seemed so fleeting to Kyra. She rose with a sigh, Rustan close behind her.
“Let’s pray the door hasn’t shifted,” he remarked cheerfully, as she pushed it open and entered the Transport corridor.
To Kyra’s relief, it hadn’t. At least, it didn’t appear to have; the Hub opened onto a desert, and the scene looked much the same as it had all that time ago when Shirin Mam had sent her to take down her first mark: Kai Tau’s eldest son. The only difference was that it had been dark then, and she had been alone.
Now it was early morning; the sun had just risen, and the Thar Desert looked beautiful, rolling sand dunes dotted with thorny plants and the occasional stunted tree. A veritable forest compared to the Empty Place. Kyra moved with care, mindful of the fact that the door could have been discovered and watchers posted to spy on them. However, a mountain of sand had accumulated outside the door. It was clear that it hadn’t been touched in a while. There was also no adequate place for anyone to hide for miles around, save for some nearby dunes, and Kyra could not sense any human presence around them.
Time blurred after that. Rustan returned to fetch the others. No more than twenty to thirty people could fit in the Transport Chamber at any time, and it would take far longer to move the horses. Only the novices would stay behind in the caves of Kali. The rest of the Order of Kali, most of the Order of Khur, as well as more than three hundred warriors from various clans and tribes needed to be Transported. Those who had been assigned to fight with the Order of Valavan had already taken the door to the Deccan Hub.
Kyra used the time to don her armor and strap two spears to her back. The armor looked a bit like chain mail, except it was much lighter and stronger, and it moved with her easily. It covered her from her neck down to her knees. It would have to be enough. The mask of Kali—the item she had asked Mumuksu to fetch for her from the funerary chamber—she would wear later, just before the attack. She didn’t know why she had decided to wear it, save that it was the mask of the Goddess in her warrior aspect, and this was war. Today Kyra would become the face of Kali, and perhaps the Goddess would be pleased with her disciple and bestow her blessings for victory.
The first batch of Markswomen arrived with their horses, including Rinna. It would take all day to travel to Jethwa, and they would have to be careful to rest and water their mounts. They would need them in fine mettle at the start of the fight. Nineth was there, astride Akhtar, Shirin Mam’s old stallion, for which Kyra was glad. Akhtar was the strongest, fastest horse they had. Nineth winked at her and Kyra smiled. Stay safe, she sent to her.
When they had all assembled outside the Hub, they formed an impressive sight. The rising sun glinted off the armor of the clan warriors and the weapons they carried: spears, longbows, lances, swords, and machetes.
Rustan had a massive crossbow slung over his back. The Maji-khan was covered in weapons, his gigantic form bristling with swords, axes, and spears. His stallion was huge; Kyra hoped it was strong enough to carry the weight on its back.
Chintil had two swords slung in scabbards on her belt. Felda carried a wicked-looking axe in one hand, and a compass and a map in the other.
“Jethwa lies in that direction, many hours’ ride away,” Felda said, pointing with her axe. “We had best get started.” She gave Kyra a sideways glance. “Any last words for us, Mahimata?”
“Last words?” Kyra shook her head. “Consider these my first—the first that have ever meant anything since I took my oath to you. Today we are going to fight evil. Sometimes evil may wear the face of a man, but make no mistake—the humanity has gone from those who wield the dark weapons.” She paused and raised her voice, addressing them all. “Hold fast to your blades; be true. The Goddess Kali guide our weapons and our hearts.”
Everyone gave a rousing cheer, and the blood rushed through Kyra’s veins. Some of her excitement must have communicated itself to Rinna; the mare stamped and wheeled, impatient to be off.
But Felda bowed to Barkav and said, “Does the Maji-khan have any words for us?” They all quieted down, and Kyra turned her mare around to face him.
Barkav gave a fierce grin. “I can only say how proud and glad I am to fight by the sides of such warriors,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the silence. “Never in the history of Asiana has the Order of Khur joined the Order of Kali in battle. No matter what happens today, it will be written and sung about for an age to come. Let them not say there were cowards among us.” He raised his hand in benediction. “May you live long and die well.”
A more subdued cheer followed his words, and then Felda gave a war cry, and they were off. Rinna sprang forward, eager to be at the front, and Kyra let her have her head. Rustan came up next to her and they rode together across the desert.
The sun slipped higher into the pale blue sky, and suffocating heat rose from the earth. Under the scarf she had tied around her face, sweat trickled down to Kyra’s neck. But she barely felt the heat. The ride was dreamlike, in a way. They rode to their deaths, some of them—and also to Kai Tau’s. Of this, Kyra was certain.
Although she had fantasized about killing Kai Tau for years, this fight was no longer about her, or even the slaughter of Veer. It was about making Asiana a safer place. It was to remove the kalashiks, once and for all, from the face of the earth. Anything less, and it would be mere self-indulgence. She saw that now, and almost wished she had not killed Kai Tau’s son. The only true purpose his death had served was to bring them closer to this day of retribution. Perhaps that had been Shirin Mam’s intention all along.
They stopped in the shade of a massive dune toward midday, drinking and eating a little, resting the horses and making sure they were watered. Although
not as bleak as the Empty Place, the Thar had a desolate beauty all its own, punctuated by the occasional thorn tree or line of shrubs. At one point they cantered past a boy herding goats. The goats scattered in terror and the boy stared at them wide-eyed before running in the direction of a clump of thatched huts.
The heat intensified in the afternoon and they slowed down, both to protect their horses as well as to pace themselves. It would not do to arrive before dusk.
In the end, though, they were forced to engage well before the sun had set. As they trotted through a rock-filled valley between two cliffs, Kyra felt a prickling at the base of her neck. They were being watched. Rustan sensed it too. He frowned and drew alongside the Maji-khan.
That was all the warning they had before a hail of arrows plunged into the midst of the company. Some pierced the unprotected flanks of the horses, and they stumbled and almost dropped their riders. One of them caught a Kushan man on his neck; he fell forward, unconscious and bleeding.
“Up there!” shouted Chintil, and she spurred her horse off to the side of the cliff. A small cave punctured the cliff halfway up, and a flash of movement betrayed the presence of their attackers. Above the cave, a pigeon winged across the sky. It was an aberration here in the desert, and Kyra noticed it with a lurch of her heart, but there was no time to target it through the rain of arrows falling around them.
She urged Rinna after Chintil, her pulse racing. From the corner of her eye she saw Rustan, Ghasil, and Felda do the same, while Navroz called out for the rest to fall back and put their shields up. More arrows fell, but this time they glanced harmlessly off their shields or landed on the ground.
The Maji-khan made to dismount, but Ghasil stopped him. “Allow me,” said the Master of Mental Arts grimly. He leaped from his horse and strode to the edge of a rough path that snaked up toward the cave.
“DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND CLIMB DOWN.”
The force of his Inner Speech was so great, Kyra knew she would have crumpled had it been directed at her. In her memory, only Tamsyn, and perhaps Shurik, had shown such power.
The rest of the company felt it too. The clansmen and -women fell back farther, uneasy.
Ghasil repeated his command, putting even greater force into it, and the arrows stopped. A group of seven men emerged, their hands empty, their eyes terrified. They darted glances at each other, and some tried to resist Ghasil’s command, falling to their knees and pressing their hands against their ears, but in the end none of them were able to stop themselves from climbing down the cliff.
At last the group halted before Ghasil. “YOU WILL NOT HURT US,” said Ghasil. “YOU WILL TELL US EVERYTHING WE NEED TO KNOW.”
The men shook and gasped. One of them fell to the ground, eyes rolling up inside his head.
“How many more of you are there?” asked the Maji-khan, putting some pressure into his voice and addressing the one who appeared to be their leader.
“None here,” he said in a shaky voice. “But a dozen men guard the way to Jethwa, ten miles up ahead, and just two miles short of the village.”
“What weapons do they have?” demanded Ghasil.
“Bows and arrows, and two guns,” answered the man.
Barkav frowned. “Kalashiks?”
“No,” said the man. “Although they have long barrels like the kalashiks, they are but imitations, and will only fire once before they have to be reloaded.” He hesitated. “I heard that the main weapons forge was burned down, and this delayed the production of better weapons.”
“What are the bullets made of?” asked Rustan.
But the man shook his head. Evidently, he didn’t know more.
“Was that your pigeon I saw in the sky?” asked Kyra.
Barkav and Ghasil looked at her, startled, but the man quailed.
“Answer,” said Ghasil harshly. “Did you use a messenger pigeon?”
The man gulped. “Yes, we have notified Jethwa command.”
Kyra’s heart sank into her boots. So much for the element of surprise.
“Tell me about the organization of Jethwa’s defenses,” commanded Ghasil.
But here again, the man could not, or would not, help them. He pressed his hands to his head and shook it, repeating weakly, “No, I don’t know.”
Ghasil kept increasing the pressure until the man collapsed. “Useless,” he said in disgust. “All right, which one of you is next?”
“Please, we don’t know,” said one. “The Taus do not reveal their plans to any but the topmost commanders.”
“How many fighters do they have?” demanded the Maji-khan.
This the man was able to answer. “There are more than five thousand fighters, organized into groups of one hundred, each led by a Tau lieutenant.”
Five thousand. Kyra’s heart sank further still. There were fewer than four hundred of them, not counting the Valavians and any troops they could muster.
“Weapons?” prodded Ghasil, putting his face so close to the man that he shrank back.
“Longbows, crossbows, swords, knives, guns,” said the man, his words tripping over themselves in their hurry to get out. “I don’t know how many.”
Navroz cantered up to them. “We need to get going,” she said. “They have delayed us enough.”
“Are there injuries?” asked Barkav.
“A few,” replied Eldest. “Only one serious. We have tied him to his horse and he must stay back with the healers. But the rest of them can fight. There are five horses that should be replaced as soon as possible. They will heal in time, and I have put salve on their wounds, but they are in no condition to run.”
“We will take theirs,” said Ghasil.
The men had tied their horses on the opposite side, in the shade of an overhang. A couple of clansmen went to fetch them. Ghasil and Navroz together emptied the men’s thoughts until their minds were blank and they could not remember who they were. They left them there, blinking in confusion, and rode ahead.
Kyra cast a last look back, wondering what would happen to the men. It would almost have been kinder to kill them. It would have been easier too. The use of such invasive Mental Arts was exhausting, and she could see from the strain on Ghasil’s face that he would need time to recover.
As if reading her thoughts, Rustan leaned toward her and said, “This way, they have a chance for a new life.”
“And if they meet someone they were once close to, like a family member?” asked Kyra. “What happens then?”
“Fragments of the past come back to them, but no more,” said Ghasil. “Like dreaming someone else’s life.”
Kyra shook her head. It was a high price to pay for the lives they’d chosen—and surely some of them had not chosen it. It had been forced on them by Kai Tau. She felt a surge of pity for them, and her resolve to punish Kai Tau hardened.
Chintil drew alongside them. “Look,” she said, and pointed. A large dune obscured their view of the way east. “There’s no other shelter for miles around. This is probably where Kai’s soldiers are hiding. They will have a clear view of us. Even primitive guns will do too much damage before we can get close enough to use the Inner Speech.”
“We must split up,” said Kyra. “The main force continues east, as if we do not know we walk into a trap. A smaller one—I propose myself and you, Elder, and perhaps two more—goes south, the long way around the dune to the windward side. It is possible that they will be too caught up tracking the main force to notice us. Plus, they likely hide on the lee side of the dune.”
“A good plan,” said the Maji-khan. “I will come with you. I have some ability with camouflage.”
“Please, Maji-khan,” said Kyra. “We need you with the main force in case things go wrong.” In case they see us coming and shoot us dead.
“Then you will take Ghasil and Rustan,” said the Maji-khan.
Rustan flashed her a grin. Don’t think you’re going anywhere without me, he thought at her.
“I will go too,” said Ria, riding u
p to them. “Honestly, I should be the only one, seeing as I have the true gift of camouflage, which none of you do.”
Kyra threw her a grateful look. “You may have the gift of camouflage, but your horse does not,” she pointed out. “And you cannot just walk there; it would take hours. You can go ahead of us once we dismount closer to the dune.”
Chintil and Barkav agreed. The main force moved ahead, rather slower now, to give the small group time to circle south and double back. It was a trick that would have worked well in darkness. At least the sun was dipping lower in the sky now. Anyone looking due west would be half-blinded by the slanting rays.
Kyra, Rustan, Ghasil, Chintil, and Ria rode south, then curved in a wide arc back toward the windward side of the dune. They could still see the main force; it was hard to miss that many people and horses, even miles away.
“Let us hope the guards do not have a scope,” remarked Chintil.
“I doubt it,” said Ghasil. “Making a scope requires the use of science.”
“So does making a gun, no matter how primitive,” said Chintil.
They approached the dune in silence. Off to the left, the main force was still almost half a mile away. The evening sun cast its slanted rays on the dune, turning it orange and gold.
“Now,” said Chintil, halting near a small clump of desiccated trees. “This is as good a place to leave our horses as any.”
They dismounted and proceeded on foot. Ria darted ahead of them, melting into the foreground until they could no longer distinguish her from the dune that towered before them.
At the base of the dune Ghasil paused, and his eyes turned inward with concentration. “Twelve men,” he whispered. “Too many for me to compel at once, but perhaps we can do this together?”
Chintil shook her head. “I cannot sense them yet, and I doubt the others can.” She withdrew her blade and it glowed blue in the evening light. “Save your strength, Elder. Let us use our kataris as they are meant to be used.”
Mahimata Page 31