Destroyer of Worlds Page 7

  Children cried. Goats screamed. Men vomited over the side. Despite the wind and the water, Thera found that she could smell her own sweat, cold and fearful.

  Through it all Ashok remained as relentless as a machine in a worker’s factory. He had the rope, because that was where he could exert the most force. She watched the powerful muscles of his arms and back tense each time he pulled. Ashok was a tall, lean man, yet hard as iron. House Vane was the home of some of the most physically imposing warriors in Lok, but she had never seen anyone near as strong as Ashok. Each time he pulled she could feel the force through the wood beneath her knees.

  It was his will versus the might of the river, and Ashok was winning.

  “Our last barge trip together was far calmer.”

  Ashok grimaced as he tugged the rope again. “I drowned that time.”

  So much for conversation. They made the rest of the crossing in silence.

  It was a violent journey, but with an effective rhythm, so they made good time. The grinding of their wooden planks against the sand of the south shore was the most welcoming sound Thera could imagine. The waiting warriors waded out to secure them, and then the other passengers stumbled off. To her, this shore appeared to be the exact same kind of terrain as the one they’d just left, but from the tribe’s whispers of wonderment it might as well have been a whole new world to them. The Wild Men rarely ventured out of their swamp. The Nansakar might as well have been the edge of the world.

  Though beached, Ashok still held onto the rope, only now it was to keep himself upright. He looked exhausted, wrung out as if his body was a rag and strength made of water. She didn’t understand what manner of magic it was which made Protectors so tough, but Ashok must have temporarily let go of it once he was certain they were safe.

  “You should rest, let someone else take your place at the rope.”

  He shook his head. “It is better if I do it.”

  It wasn’t just the physical strain that was making him weary, it was how much the river weighed on his spirit. Thera could have ordered him to stop, to stay on land with her, to let someone else bear the burden for a few trips, but she wouldn’t force him to. It would be better to order the river to flow uphill. He might not care for these people, but he would protect them, no matter what. With Ashok, words were irrelevant, all that mattered was deeds. He would always do what he thought was correct. The man who had sworn himself to her would never ever quit.

  It was one thing to know something. It was something else to truly see it in action. Thera tilted her head in respect.

  Eyes heavy lidded from exhaustion, he just looked back at her. Ashok probably didn’t even grasp the magnitude of the realization she’d just had about him.

  Or maybe, he did…As Thera gathered her pack and began to get off the barge, Ashok reached out and caught her by the sleeve. “Wait.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our last time on a river together, I may have drowned, but you brought me back.”

  She had saved his life, putting her mouth on his and forcing her air into his lungs, and then pushing on his chest like they were a bellows, until he coughed up water and started breathing again. “The casteless who work the rivers call that trick the breath of life.”

  “I don’t recall if I ever properly thanked you for doing that.”

  “On the contrary, you woke up ready to murder us all and accused me of witchcraft.”

  “I regret that now.”

  It was because she’d interrupted his plans. He’d wanted nothing more than to die, and he’d continued living only because he was obligated to. She was afraid to ask if that had changed.

  “It’s fine…” Then Thera lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper so the fanatics wouldn’t hear. “Though I’ll say the second time our lips met was much more entertaining than the first.”

  Ashok raised an eyebrow.

  “Prophet! You made it. Excellent,” Toramana shouted. The leader of the Wild Men was a thickset man, and the entire barge shook as he climbed aboard. “Come, come, we’ve built a fire. Warm yourself and dry your clothes before you get sick.”

  As Toramana began to usher her away, she glanced back at Ashok. “I’d like to see how the third time goes.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “It is.”

  It was unusual to see Ashok smile. “Then I have further motivation not to drown.”

  “Huh?” Toramana had no idea what they were whispering about as he placed some furs over Thera’s shoulders. “This way, Prophet, let’s get you warm. My hunters on this side have already caught a deer, two rabbits, and a snapping turtle. We are very skilled like that. We’ll eat well tonight. The gods are blessing this journey already.”

  Most of her band weren’t staying close to the river. No sense in tempting demons. Their fires had been built on a rise two hundred yards inland. As the latest arrivals walked along on still wobbling legs, she couldn’t help but glance back over her shoulder.

  With rested men aboard to take over the poles, they started back across the river. Ashok wasn’t even looking at her, he was once again focused on the rope with that single-minded determination of his. As she watched them shove off, a strange feeling came over her. Since her marriage had ended, she’d been with a few other men. When you lived as a criminal, you had to do whatever was necessary to survive. It was a lifestyle that required you to be harsh, ruthless, and mercenary, or you’d end up as prey. Women had few advantages. Sometimes that meant seducing a strong man just to have an ally.

  She just wasn’t used to actually liking them.

  Chapter 8

  Their second day on the Akershan plains, they came across the scene of a massacre.

  It had been a small settlement, just five of the gray homes that were common here, but the casteless knew how to pack a great many bodies into a small living space.

  Tattered bits of fabric whipped in the wind. The felt walls had been slashed open, their inhabitants dragged out and put to the sword. Ashok stood in the packed dirt circle in the middle of the homes and counted the dead.

  It was mostly women and children, all casteless. They’d been thrown in a pile for the buzzards, right atop the fire pit where they’d cooked their meals. From the look of the bodies, they’d been killed recently, in the late afternoon.

  “General.” Shekar Somsak ran up to Ashok. “I’ve got the trail.”

  Shekar had been with them since Jharlang. Like all the Somsak raiders, his body was tattooed to commemorate his many battles. Since Shekar had been the most cautious and strategic of that hot-blooded house, Jagdish had appointed him to be one of his two havildars. However, more importantly to Ashok right now was that the Somsak were excellent trackers.

  “Report.”

  “It was about fifty on horseback who did this. They came from the east, and they’re headed west.” He gestured toward the setting sun. Since the Wild Men also practiced the art of tattooing, Shekar had a new demon taking up most of that arm, celebrating the Sons’ victory in the swamp. The skin was still red and healing.

  “Was this the work of warriors or criminals?”

  “From the uniform horseshoes and the matching boots from the dismounts, I’d say regular cavalry soldiers.”

  Why would Great House Akershan send a full paltan to slaughter this isolated group of casteless? But more importantly, if warriors were actively patrolling this region, how would his slow column be able to avoid them? According to Thera’s directions they were still weeks from Keta’s hideout at their column’s plodding pace.

  “Alert the others. Tell the prophet that I need to speak with her. We have to change our plans.”

  Shekar immediately complied, sprinting off through the tall grass. Grass was the only thing this poor land had in abundance.

  Ashok went back to examining the settlement. He’d done this sort of work before, killing whole villages. He’d taken no joy from such duties, but he’d still done it because the Law had required it. He wo
ndered what crime these non-people had committed that had been so great it had required all their deaths? There were no men of fighting age, which suggested they were probably off getting into trouble. Had Thera’s rebellion been the cause here?

  There was a noise from way out in the grass. He’d assumed there had been no survivors, but that had sounded like a moan. Hand on his sword, Ashok began walking in that direction. He found grass which had been bent as if someone had crashed through it. He spotted droplets of blood dried on a flat rock. Apparently, the warriors had missed someone. Ashok was no Somsak, but he could follow this haphazard trail easily enough. The injured man had run, bleeding, until he’d fallen, and then he’d crawled for a time.

  Akershan wasn’t nearly as flat as people from the other houses commonly believed. It was because as you looked out over the endless grasslands you couldn’t really see all the swells and gullies that crossed the land. Only at sunset or sunrise could you see the terrain features by the shadows they cast.

  He found the man lying at the bottom of one of those gullies, on his side, in a puddle turned pink from blood. Surprisingly, he was in a warrior’s garb, and had the insignia of Great House Akershan on his sleeve.

  At first Ashok thought that maybe this one had been wounded by the casteless, and then left behind by his companions, but that made no sense. The arrow stuck in his back was obviously of quality, more likely from the warrior caste than something unskilled non-people could make, but that didn’t mean a rebel couldn’t steal a bow and a quiver…Take his own Sons of the Black Sword for example. They were rebels and rather well equipped.

  The warrior moaned again. So he’d not bled to death quite yet. Ashok walked over to him.

  The injured man heard Ashok’s boots splashing through the puddle and jerked awake. He grasped instinctively for his sword, but the scabbard at his side was empty. The sudden movement must have shifted the arrow, for he winced against the pain.

  “Calm yourself. I mean you no harm.” He knelt next to the warrior, who was quite a bit younger than Ashok, but it was hard to tell with his face so swollen and cut up. In addition to the arrow, he’d also received a severe beating. From the look of him, Ashok guessed that he’d been shot in the back, and then several men had stomped and kicked him, then left him to die. He must have come to and tried to flee after that.

  “What happened here?”

  “I couldn’t do it.” The warrior had gone gray from lack of blood. Ashok knew that feeling, sinking into a cold fog.

  “Couldn’t do what?”

  “Kill them. Kill them like that.” Eyes wide and terrified, he was near the endless nothing, and he knew it. “They did no harm. But kill ’em all. That’s orders. But these were babies. Just babies.”

  “You disobeyed your orders?”

  “Weren’t gonna spear no babies.” Surprisingly, the warrior began to laugh, but it was more of a soft wheeze. “I punched that Inquisitor right in his mask.”

  Law-breaking disobedience still offended Ashok to his core, but recently he’d started finding the idea of harming Inquisitors amused him. Hopefully this defiant one would live, and not just because Ashok wanted to interrogate him. Upon inspection, it was obvious the arrow had struck the shoulder blade, and from the amount of shaft sticking out, it had ground out on the bone. If any vital organs had been pierced, he’d already have bled out.

  “What is your name, Warrior?”

  “Rane.”

  “I’ll help you, Rane Akershan, but I need you to answer my questions.”

  The warrior was weak and wheezing, but he was focused now. “To the oceans with Akershan. I was obligated to them from vassal house Garo. That’s why they treated me like this.”

  “Your orders were to kill all the casteless, why?”

  “Kill ’em all they said. The whole province full.”

  That made no sense. “All of them?”

  “Every last one. Great Extermination the masks called it. Every warrior available is being sent here to fight…But most of us didn’t want to. This ain’t war, it’s butchery.”

  “Your paltan, where were they headed?”

  “We were to clean out Dhakhantar in the morning. There’s supposed to be three or four hundred untouchables there.”

  Ashok unwound the sash from his waist. “Last question. Akershani arrows, are they broad heads or points?”

  “For hunting casteless, they told us to pack our cheapest iron bodkins. Why?”

  “Pulling out a flesh cutter can cause more damage.”

  “Wait—”

  From experience he knew it was best to not give them too much warning. Ashok grabbed hold of the shaft and yanked it straight out of the warrior’s back. This caused a scream, which was justifiable, considering the narrow point had been lodged in the bone. As the warrior faded back into unconsciousness, Ashok used his sash to staunch the bleeding. Then he hoisted him out of the mud, threw him over his shoulders, and ran back toward the others.

  The column was drawing near the casteless camp. As Ashok approached, he saw that Shekar had already spread the word, because they were preparing to fight. The Wild Men were readying their bows. The Sons of the Black Sword were donning their armor. The young and vulnerable were being herded toward the safety of the center.

  “I’ve got a wounded man here. Fetch the surgeon.”

  Some of the hunters ran off to get the tribal healer. She was more of an insane witch doctor than a proper surgeon, but he’d seen her work in the swamp. When it came to stitching wounds or setting bones, she was competent enough.

  His arrival drew a curious crowd. A pair of hunters took the warrior from him.

  “Watch it. He’s got a puncture wound to the back.”

  Eklavya Kharsawan was his other havildar, and the serious young man looked worried. Where the Somsak were natural raiders always itching for a fight, the warriors of Kharsawan tended to be cautious and defense minded. Jagdish had liked getting wildly divergent perspectives from his junior officers.

  “Shekar told us there’re patrols around. Your orders, General?”

  “It appears you’re already doing the correct thing. Where’s Thera?”

  “She wanted to see the massacre for herself.”

  Ashok started back toward the settlement, and then he paused. He had to ask himself what a proper military leader like Jagdish would do in this situation. “Tell them no fires in the camp tonight. In this terrain they can be seen for miles. Gather all the Sons who come from Akershan lands. Make sure they’re willing to shed their brothers’ blood. If not, place them with the noncombatants. If they are willing to fight, then they need to tell us everything they can of their house’s tactics.”

  “Right away.” Eklavya began shouting names as Ashok walked away. Those that could hear his voice came running, and the rest were passed down the line.

  Ashok found Thera amid the gray homes, standing in front of the corpse pile. She had her head down and one hand pressed tight over her mouth.

  Murugan and another of the Sons were guarding her, and both of them looked grim. “Leave us for a moment,” Ashok said. They immediately did as they were told.

  He couldn’t see her expression because her long hair was whipping in the wind. He went to Thera’s side, unsure how she would react to such slaughter. Would it be grief? Shock? But instead he found her with teeth clenched, staring at the bodies with narrowed, furious eyes. Of course. He should have known. She had been raised warrior caste.

  “Was this because of the rebellion, Ashok? Is this because of me?”

  “I don’t know their reasoning yet, but the Akershani warriors have been dispatched to kill all the non-people in this region.”

  “Don’t call them that! These were people! Just like us. Just like the great-house families. I don’t give a damn what the Law calls them. They say they aren’t real, so they can justify sending men like you to treat them like this!”

  Ashok merely nodded.

  “Never call them non-peopl
e again,” she muttered as she knelt next to the corpse of a little girl. “Please.”

  “As you wish.” Even knowing he was one of them, even after coming to know many of them as real flesh-and-blood beings, with feelings, wants, accomplishments, and flaws, it would be a difficult habit to break. There was a power in words.

  “They really intend to kill them all?” Thera whispered.

  “I have no reason to doubt the injured warrior I found. The paltan who did this is riding in the same direction we are. Even on horseback they’re only a few hours ahead of us, but they’ll need to camp for the night. If we want to avoid them—”

  “Avoid them?” Thera snarled. “I want you to kill them. I want you to punish them for this.”

  She was normally more calculating than that. Something here had affected her deeply. “That wouldn’t be wise.”

  “All those years you were murdering everyone who even looked at the Law crossways, did you ever stop and care about the wisdom of it?”

  “Not really. I was expendable. But if this paltan does not arrive at their destination, more will be dispatched to check on them. It is not my safety I’m concerned about.”

  No matter how much righteous anger she was feeling, it wouldn’t spare the lives of her followers from the warrior caste’s wrath, and she knew it. Thera took a deep breath. “This isn’t right, Ashok.”

  It may not be right, but it was legal. And that thought made Ashok deeply uncomfortable. As a Protector he’d never given much thought to what happened after his grisly work had been done. In a way, he wanted nothing more than to chase down these cowards and let them face an opponent who could actually fight back, even if it wasn’t prudent.