Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (17 page)

ON THE SAME evening that Mala and Utu finally came face to face, the noble ones of Dibbu-Loka began the long march from the oasis of Wuul to the Tent City of Anna. Accompanying the monks and nuns were one hundred Tugars, including not one but two Asēkhas. Three days earlier, Aya had woken from a sound sleep in the late afternoon, his eyes ablaze. Another of The Twenty had fallen, though he knew not which. At that moment, Aya had become a member of the
Viisati
.

After his ascension, the newly crowned Asēkha had sent almost twenty score warriors into the depths of the desert to hunt down any fiends that still threatened the people of Tējo. Now well-provisioned, the Tugars were ordered to scatter, which would enable them to cover as much territory as possible, though all were told to return to Anna within a fortnight.

Between Wuul and Vimānal—the oasis that hosted the current version of the Tent City—lay many leagues of desert. But this stretch of land was not entirely barren. Even moving slowly, large companies could reach shaded areas to rest and recuperate.

They marched through the night without altercation, seeing no living beings that walked on two legs. It was as if the human inhabitants of Tējo had vanished into thin air, though it was more likely that most had traveled farther east to escape the threat of the fiends. There were several more oases deep within the desert that could host sizable gatherings of people. Aya hoped that most who had fled the fiends had managed to find their way to these life-supporting havens.

Near morning, a small company of Tugars leading thirty camels laden with supplies approached them from the opposite direction. A Vasi master named Mudu came forward and bowed.

“Until now, Tējo has been eerily quiet,” Rati said to Mudu in a loud voice. “But you and your company were making enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Shhhhhh,” Mudu said. “Do not jest about such things. There are fiends about.”

“Most of them are destroyed, my friend,” Aya said, clasping forearms with the teacher. “And I have sent out Tugars to hunt down the rest. But what brings you here? Have you come for our benefit?”

“What do you think?” The master blinked. “You have ascended. I congratulate you,” he said to Aya. “Do you know which of The Twenty has fallen?”

“We were hoping you might tell us,” Aya said.

Mudu only shrugged.

Afterward, they continued on toward Anna, even better supplied than they had been before. When they reached the top of a particularly tall dune, it was nearly dawn. In the pale light they could see for several leagues. To their relief there were no fiends, only a flat expanse of empty sand—and in the distance, an awkward gathering of boulders that would provide that day’s protection from the raging sun. Several Tugars, including some of the new arrivals, raced ahead to begin preparations for a morning meal. The noble ones trudged along slowly but without complaint.

“It will be joyous to finally return to Anna,” Rati said. “I have not been there for many months.”

“I have been gone for just a short time, yet I too am eager,” Mudu said, “though with so many of our brothers and sisters off to war, the Tent City feels deserted.”

“There is so much we don’t know,” Rati said. “I wonder how Nissaya and Jivita fare. And I wish someone could tell me which of The Twenty fell.”

“Two Asēkhas are no longer, that at least we know,” Aya said. “Dalhapa was set to join our ranks ahead of me, so she already has ascended. I wonder if Dvipa will be able to tell us.”

“I fear he will know little more than we,” Mudu said. “The world is closed.”

AS AYA AND MUDU spoke, the desert girl Nimm slept restlessly inside a small tent on the outskirts of Anna. The Tugars had placed Ura and Nimm as far from the ruined center of the city as possible. As usual, Nimm’s dreams were nightmarish, in content and scope. The monster killed Tāseti again and again, each time more horrifically than the last. The Asēkha’s funeral, which in truth had been simple and beautiful, transformed into an orgy of bloodletting. Nimm sat up and screamed, causing Ura to do the same. They looked at each other in the pale light of dawn, both bathed in sweat.

“Ura, will the dreams never stop?” Nimm rasped.

“I don’t know,” the motherly woman said. “My sleep is also haunted.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can stand it.”

“What choice do you have? Or I?” Ura said. “We live or we die. If you wish to end your life, I will not blame you or attempt to stop you. But if you do not, I promise that I will love you as my friend
 . . .
and my daughter.”

“I’m not brave enough to kill myself,” Nimm said, sniffling.

“Nor am I.” Then Ura smiled. “Yet, is there no reason for joy? Surely our next lives will be better than this one. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t live our current lives to their fullest. The wise ones counsel to live in the present moment. They say that the past is only a memory, and the future does not exist.”

“Do you believe them?”

“I’m not sure
 . . .
”

Nimm sighed. “I miss my family. I miss Tāseti. I miss them all. Something tells me I will join them soon.”

“Surely our next lives will be better than this one,” Ura repeated. “I can’t imagine them being any worse.”

Afterward, they both slept without dreams or nightmares, if only for a very short time.

AT DAWN OF THE fourth morning since Tāseti’s death, the Taiko drums were played for the third time. After an Asēkha or Asēkhas perished in battle, it was customary for the barrel-bodied drums to be pounded each morning for twenty consecutive days. Twenty different Taikos were used, their canvas heads ranging from a span in diameter to seven cubits. The variety of tones was mesmerizing, creating a hypnotic splurge that could be heard for as far as ten leagues, depending on the time of day and stillness of the air.

Gutta, now the senior Tugar at the Tent City since the deaths of Tāseti and Dvipa, presided over the performance, counting slow breaths with deliberate precision. When he reached six hundred, he called a halt to the percussion with a wave of his hand. An empty silence ensued.

Then the girl named Nimm was beside him, her face still red and peeling from her grueling journey through the desert with Tāseti. Ura, the woman with the sad face, stood near her.

“Would it be all right if I tried
 . . .
just once?” Nimm said to the enormous man.

The Tugar smiled. The girl had experienced unimaginable horrors, but her curiosity had not been blunted. There was hope she might yet heal.

“First, introductions are in order. My name is Gutta. Yours, I am told, is Nimmita.”

“Nimm.”

“And I am Ura,” the woman offered. “We’re sorry to bother one as great as you, but she really wants to play one of the drums, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Dear lady,” Gutta said, “not only shall Nimm be allowed to play, she shall be permitted to choose any one of these drums as a gift, once the twenty days of service are completed.”

Nimm’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Do you not know? You are great, even among the Tugars,” Gutta said to Nimm. “We are a humble people, and our wealth is modest, but what is ours is yours.”

Then he handed the girl a stick twice as thick as her arm and guided her to the largest of the Taikos, a drum hollowed from the trunk of an ancient oak found dead in the eastern foothills of Kolankold. Quickly he gave her a lesson on how to swing the stick, using her shoulder to create a long, steady stroke that culminated in a snap of the wrist. When Nimm struck the tightly strung canvas head, a cavernous boom erupted that surprised even Gutta.

“Throoooooooooooooooooooooooooom!”

She struck again
 . . .
harder.

“Throoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!”

She smiled. Then giggled.

Again
 . . .

“Throooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!”

AMONG THE FOUR hundred Tugars whom Aya had sent to scour the desert in search of fiends, Silah, Kithar, and Yoen—along with Chieftain—were the first to find some. The night after leaving the oasis of Wuul, the three close friends had been walking silently alongside the chestnut gelding when they came upon a dozen fiends wandering together in the bowed floor of a dry streambed. It was past midnight, and the quarter moon was about to set, but the sky was full of stars, producing enough light for the Tugars to see clearly without need for torches.

Silah feared that Chieftain might snort or make other noises that would alert the fiends to their presence, but the horse was clever and remained silent.

Yoen unsheathed his
uttara
and started toward the fiends, but Silah waved him off. Then she gathered her Tugarian companions close together and spoke to them in a whisper. “The fiends are unaware of our presence. I believe we should follow them for a while before we destroy them. Perhaps others of their kind will be drawn to this group, and it will make it even easier to end their miserable existences.”

“Agreed,” Kithar said. “But we must watch carefully. If a living person comes anywhere near, we must react with haste.”

Yoen nodded, and then Chieftain nickered just loud enough for the three of them to hear, which made it difficult not to laugh and betray their position.

The foursome trailed the fiends for the rest of the night, over dunes, across plains, and even through a difficult thicket of thorny shrub. During this time, ten more fiends joined the original group, drawn to each other like herding animals. At dawn, the Tugars struck, taking their heads one by one, the fiends too few to pose any threat.

Afterward, the Tugars dragged their remains into the shrubs and set them aflame.

While they stood and watched the fire, Silah said, “These fought with less vigor than the others I’ve encountered. Is it possible that they finally wear themselves out?”

“Regardless, they are still dangerous,” Kithar said. “We must slay them all, or it will be as if we slew none.”

The next night they found only two, and the night after, none. The fiends were no more.

THE NIGHT AFTER they left Wuul with the noble ones, Rati and Aya heard the drums coming from Anna. The rhythmic sound was faint and many leagues distant, but its purpose was unmistakable: The Tent City was announcing that two Asēkhas had perished. This puzzled Rati, and he could recognize confusion on Aya’s face, as well.

“How would Anna know?” Rati said. “Has the Tent City somehow received word from Nissaya?”

“Or even worse,” Aya said. “Is it possible that Dvipa is one of the fallen?”

“He was fine when I last left him,” Mudu said. “But I told you already of the rumors of the great giant. Appam went in search of it, and I haven’t seen him since. With the Simōōn dismantled, my heart fears the worse.”

“I would send most of our warriors ahead,” Rati said, “but
The Torgon
commanded that the noble ones be well protected. It is an order I will heed, despite our concerns.”

“Agreed,” Aya said. “Besides, by this time tomorrow, Anna will be in our sights. The noble ones are tougher than they look and can walk many leagues without rest, as long as we continue to urge them.”

“What will we find when we arrive, I wonder?” Mudu said.

“We shall see what we shall see,” Rati said.

At about the same moment that Kusala emerged into the southern foothills of Mahaggata, the large company of Tugars, monks, and nuns that Rati and Aya led came within sight of the watch-fires surrounding Anna.

Cheers arose from the desert warriors who had remained with the company, and even the noble ones let out a few shouts, though they typically eschewed outward displays of emotion. Scouts wandering the perimeter of the Tent City rushed to greet them, and soon afterward several hundred warriors came into view, screeching with delight. By the time the company entered the Tent City, everyone in Anna was hooting and hollering. Though it now was well past midnight, bonfires were built, casks of nectar opened, and food prepared. There would be a celebratory feast for the honored arrivals, though the mood would quickly grow solemn when Rati, Aya, and the others learned of the deaths of Tāseti, Dvipa, and Tathagata.

What began as a celebration became more of a second funeral. Rati spoke long of Tāseti’s numerous exploits, and Aya the same of Dvipa. Ura retold the gruesome yet heroic fall of the Tugarian warrior named Appam, and many described Tathagata’s final moments. Yet when it was revealed that the High Nun had achieved enlightenment before she died, the noble ones were pleased. Their former leader no longer would be reborn, her endless string of births exhausted.

“No matter how many times or how long you meditate, no matter how many rites or rituals you follow, there is no liberation from suffering,” said Dammawansha, now the official High Monk of Dibbu-Loka. “Pleasure and pain walk hand in hand like day and night and life and death. The yogi who recognizes these truths, at their deepest levels, will enter into eternal tranquility. Though Sister Tathagata suffered terribly in the final moments of her life, she ultimately was the victor. We should rejoice for her, while at the same time continuing to strive to achieve nirvana for our own sakes. Each and every one of us must walk this path alone.”

Almost a week had passed since the battle at Anna, and though evidence of destruction remained in its interior, the Tugars had been hard at work, carrying their fallen to hidden burial sites, cremating Tathagata’s massive corpse, clearing away the charred debris, and erecting new tents. The noble ones were provided basins of water for bathing and comfortable accommodations for sleeping. By dawn, they all were tucked away. But Rati and Aya remained awake, joining Gutta—who had been the senior Tugar at Anna until their arrival—for a conference.

“Now that Asēkhas are again among us, we should rebuild the Simōōn,” Gutta said. “The question is, do we want to do it here or at another location? Our stay at Vimānal has become unpleasant, to say the least. What say you, Rati? You are now our leader.”

“There are still twenty score Tugars wandering the sands in search of the remaining fiends,” Rati said. “Until they return, we should not leave Vimānal. As for rebuilding the Simōōn, it’s a question of whether we dare to extend its absence.”

“Dvipa dared it, and it proved to be costly,” Gutta said. “The fiends are destroyed, but Invictus is not. Should the sorcerer send more monsters our way
 . . .
”

“Nissaya and Jivita must fall before Invictus will come for us,” Aya said. “Nonetheless, the sorcerer is a danger that cannot be ignored. The Tent City has already paid once for lack of foresight. I would argue that we remain at Vimānal, despite the bad memories.”

Rati sighed. “I ask myself, what would the
The Torgon
do if he were here? My mind tells me that the safety, comfort, and protection of the noble ones would be uppermost in his thoughts. Therefore, for the foreseeable future we will remain at Vimānal. Tomorrow will be a day of rest. The following day, on full moon’s eve, we will begin the rebuilding of the Simōōn.”

“Ema
 . . .
Ema
 . . .
”
Aya and Gutta chanted in unison.