Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (10 page)

MALA HOPED TO reach the eastern shore of Lake Hadaya in three days, circumvent its northern shore in two more, and arrive at Jivita about three days after that. Then things would get fun again. The fall of the White City would be even more gratifying than the fortress. Invictus would be so pleased.

The newborns, magically transformed to their original selves, were once again pathetic, trudging along like overburdened old men. Mala far preferred them as snarling monsters. Now he felt like kicking every one of them in his scrawny ass, but he knew that he still needed them for the upcoming battle. When the time came, he again would unleash their fury.

In the meantime, some of the other monsters weren’t particularly pleased by what had occurred at Nissaya. Few species had gone unscathed. Two dozen witches had died and twice that many hags. The Stone-Eaters had lost two score, the dracools three score, and the druids, vampires, and ghouls many times that number. There was grumbling from all corners, but Mala wasn’t overly concerned. He could shut up any who complained too much. And Invictus could shut them all up at once, if they grew too wearisome.

Perhaps they needed a reminder.

At dusk, Mala reached a stretch of Iddhi-Pada that first dipped dramatically and then rose steeply for several hundred cubits. At its apex, Mala halted for more than a bell, allowing the rest of the huge host to gather at his feet. The ruined snow giant waited until all was silent and then raised Vikubbati high above his head. As one, the newborns cowered.

“Can everyone hear me?” His voice was magically amplified, so of course they could hear him, and of course he knew it.

Silence greeted him.

“Good
 . . .
good
! Now, there is something I want to make clear to all of you. I am the leader of this army. When I say walk, you walk. When I say run, you run. When I say kill, you kill. Any questions, thus far?”

More silence.

“
But
 . . .
if any of you feel that you can do a better job, feel free to come forward—one at a time, or all at once
 . . .
I don’t care. Any who wish to challenge me, do it now.”

No one moved.

“As I thought.” From the tines of Vikubbati, golden spears of energy leapt into the sky, like bolts of lightning in reverse.

Again the newborns cowered, but the energy dissipated high above and did not fall upon them.

Mala laughed. “We have defeated Nissaya. Jivita is next. Before all is said and done, more of us
 . . .
of
you
 . . .
will die. But
all
of them will die. If there are any complaints, speak to my face. Otherwise, stop your grumbling, and do as you’re told.”

Afterward, he ordered them to set up camp. As expected, no one complained—to his face.

WHINER WAS BACK to his old habits. Rather than running around snarling, maiming, and eating, he now lay on his side complaining about his bulging stomach, which pressed hard against the inside of his armor. What had he eaten to cause such a paunch? He couldn’t remember. Or could he? One thing was certain: he no longer was hungry or thirsty. In fact, he had no desire to eat or drink ever again.

Whiner’s head pounded, and his mouth tasted like the cesspit of a castle’s most frequented garderobe. Somehow he had misplaced the padding beneath his armor, and now the golden metal pressed directly against his tortured skin. He tried to remove his helm but found that he could not; it took all his strength just to raise his visor, and even that seemed glued to his eyebrows.

In an unusual display of compassion, Mala allowed them to rest. Whiner didn’t believe that it was possible to lay upon hard ground in a full suit of armor and manage to sleep, but sleep he did—like a dead man.

Of course, his dreams were not pleasant. He ran crazily to and fro, searching for victims and tearing them apart with his teeth.

Whiner sat up with a yelp. It was broad daylight. This amazed him.

The march toward Jivita began. The golden soldier fell grumpily into place.

EVEN INVICTUS WAS caught unaware by the kickback from his bolt of power. The chain around the dragon’s neck glowed in response, temporarily clinging to the sorcerer’s inner thighs like a magnet. Both he and Bhayatupa were cast upward and away at magnificent speed, traveling league upon league before their momentum finally halted. Then they tumbled a thousand fathoms from the sky, the chain still aglow. Things happened so fast, the sorcerer was unable to slow their descent, and they smote the base of a mountain in spectacular fashion, striking a talus soil and sod had long obscured. The collision cast debris farther than the eye could see.

Invictus lay still for a time, but not because he was harmed. Rather, the unexpected experience had turned his anger into exhilaration, and he allowed himself a few moments to revel in it.

The collision had separated him from the dragon, which now sprawled about a stone’s throw away, the chain finally cooled. But that wasn’t right. The chain wasn’t just cool, it was dead. Did this mean that Bhayatupa had perished along with it?

Invictus went to investigate, stepping over miniature fires scattered across the blasted landscape. The dragon’s eyes were closed and his body motionless, but smoke oozed from his nostrils, each as broad as Invictus’s forearm was long. This time Invictus did not believe that Bhayatupa was pretending. But was he severely injured or just unconscious? That remained to be seen.

Invictus placed his hand on the side of the dragon’s jaw just below his eye. He could sense energy beneath the crimson scales, but it was weak and fading. A moment later, Bhayatupa’s life force flickered out.

“A pity,” he said out loud. “It’s a long walk from here to Nissaya.”

Without further thought, Invictus abandoned the dragon’s corpse and strolled southward, moving at a brisk pace through a stand of blooming poplars. The Sun God whistled as he walked, realizing with sadness how few had been the times he had journeyed alone without care, even as a boy. Most of his childhood had been spent with Vedana, and whistling for whistling’s sake was not part of her agenda.

It was a beautiful evening, clear and especially warm, due in most part to his sorcerous interference with the weather patterns, which was a constant drain on his immense power. Invictus found himself taking time to observe the sights and sounds of night; he preferred, of course, the light of day and rarely wandered abroad after dark. But though nighttime made him feel weak and queasy, he retained enough strength from the previous day’s saturation to last easily until dawn.

In the silence of the forest, Invictus heard a sudden sound behind him that resembled a loud bark or yelp. Was a bear or some other predator stalking him? How marvelous! It would be exciting to watch the creature’s behavior as it came close. He was in such a good mood he might even toy with it a while before blowing it apart.

Then he noticed a squirrel on a low branch not far from where he stood. The rodent chittered at him, probably in an attempt to protect a nearby nest.

“Ahhh,” Invictus whispered. “Here’s a chance to test my spell.”

He raised his right hand, spread his fingers wide, and began to whistle. Tendrils of blackness oozed from his mouth, followed by streams of golden fire that leapt from his fingertips. In an instant, the squirrel’s body was enveloped, causing the rodent to writhe and squeal until, ever so slowly, the hide beneath its fur began to tear. Though the creature was small, the expenditure of power necessary to enact such a spell was considerable, even to Invictus.

As the volume of his whistling intensified, Invictus’s forehead started to tickle, and he realized with surprise that beads of sweat were causing this sensation. The squirrel squealed even louder, using every shred of its strength to break free of the golden fire and flee the agony, but Invictus exerted even more power and pinned the rodent firmly to the branch. From beneath the splitting skin arose what resembled brown bone, but Invictus knew better. When Invictus finally halted his magical assault, what remained on the branch could no longer be recognized as a squirrel. Instead, a short stump of wood clung to the poplar’s arm—with the rodent trapped inside, still alive.

Invictus sighed and wiped his brow with his hand. All other sound had ceased. Even the crickets were muted.

“It can be done,” he said out loud, his voice breaking the silence with startling intensity, “though the next time will be more difficult.”

Then he continued on to Nissaya, whistling as he walked.

After examining the fortress—so discreetly that no one would even know he was there—he would follow Mala’s army on its way to its next destination
 . . .
Jivita, where his sweet sister now cowered.

Laylah, Laylah, Laylah.

Here
 . . .
I
 . . .
come.

And no one.

No one
.

Can stop me.

INVICTUS ARRIVED AT the fortress late that evening and spent the dark hours spying and investigating, while at the same time remaining purposely unseen by the wild men who had been left by Mala to serve as Nissaya’s temporary guardians. Invictus was in no mood to interact with underlings, but he was curious enough about Nissaya to sniff around all through the night.

The following morning, he began the journey from Nissaya to Jivita. The trailing edge of Mala’s army was just a league beyond where he now stood, but Invictus had no desire to catch up to it. Instead, he preferred to hang back and watch the eventual battle from a hidden place, finally making his grand appearance when he deemed the time to be just right.

Invictus was certain that
The Torgon
would be among the Jivitans, and the Sun God was determined to make an example of the Death-Knower in front of whatever witnesses remained alive. He wasn’t so sure about Laylah, though. Would she already have fled to some faraway place? It was possible. But Invictus couldn’t envision his sister deserting her precious wizard, regardless of the peril. Ironically, her pathetic loyalty would work to Invictus’s advantage. Rather than hunting her down in some faraway place, he could simply recapture her after the battle and take her back to Uccheda where she belonged.

As he walked, he whistled—and extremely well, in his opinion, though the animals, birds, and insects he encountered didn’t seem to appreciate his talent, growing silent as he approached. The sorcerer found this disconcerting. Was he really that unlikable? Yes, his sexual appetites were a bit perverse. But was that so unusual? Besides, if they all would simply bow to him and not put up such a fight, he might even permit them some personal freedoms. Well, probably not, but how could they know?

The fact that so many loved
The Torgon
instead of him only irritated him more. Why did people like goody-goodies so much, anyway? Then his thoughts drifted to his grandmother. Where was Vedana now? Was she watching him from her scrying chamber in Kamupadana? Was she following him, disguised as a raven or some other creature? Or was she simply cowering in the Realm of the Undead, peeking out through a hole in the fabric between dimensions?

Again Invictus began to wonder about Vedana’s plan. He found himself regretting not forcing Bhayatupa to tell him immediately, though he doubted the dragon knew the real story. Invictus would have little forewarning of the demon’s schemes until he encountered them firsthand. Normally this would have been of little concern, but lately, an annoying paranoia had crept into his awareness. He felt that something watched him that was even more powerful than his grandmother—something he could not yet control—and it nagged at him and made him grumpy.

Invictus came upon a wagon that had been abandoned in the middle of Iddhi-Pada after one of its wooden axles had split in two. Barrels of wine and crates of food had been left inside the bed. Mala’s army needed far fewer supplies than were usual for such an enormous host, especially where the newborns were concerned.

Bright sunlight gave Invictus all the sustenance he required. He could go for weeks without food and water, if he so chose, but eating and drinking did provide tactile pleasure. Invictus climbed into the wagon, broke open a barrel, and drank deeply of the wine. He also ate bread, cheese, dried meats, and fruits. He was surprised by how good it tasted, and he became so distracted he didn’t even notice the mammoth shape descending from above.