Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (24 page)

AS MALA STARED into Bhayatupa’s eyes, he remembered their last encounter in the mountains west of Kamupadana, when the dragon had nearly killed him. Now he stood before Bhayatupa again, but this time he bore Vikubbati and Carūūl. Mala knew that he should raise the trident and strike, but something held him back. It was as if he were hypnotized. And though Vikubbati and his golden chain continued to glow fervently, the ring had gone cold.

No
 . . .
not cold.

Icy.

And it burned his finger like frozen fire.

Mala sensed more than heard a disturbance behind him. When he turned ever so slightly, he saw the damnable wizard approaching on the jade mare—and then the Silver Sword slashing at his throat. With reflexes surpassed by few who ever lived, Mala blocked the wizard’s horizontal stroke with his trident—but not without a price. The collision spewed blobs of energy in all directions. Mala was knocked to the ground for the second time that day—only this one stunned him even worse than the dragon’s first ambush.

The remaining Kojin rushed to his aid, using all six of her powerful arms to haul Mala to his feet. But when Mala’s vision cleared, he didn’t like what he saw. Bhayatupa again hovered above him, only much nearer. Each slow stroke of his wings blew hot gusts across the floor of the plain. Mala prepared to unleash the power of the trident and blow the dragon to pieces, but Bhayatupa’s hypnotic stare froze him in place.

Then the wizard was behind him again. “Mala! It is time we finish this!”

“No!” the dragon bellowed. “He is not for you, Death-Knower. Stand back!”

Suddenly, Bhayatupa pounced, landing on the grass and whipping his long neck forward. There was a cracking sound, loud as a tree splintered by the fall of another, and then the dragon was chomping down on Mala’s left hand. He felt his flesh tear and bones shatter, and then the dragon raised his head high into the sky and swallowed both the hand and the ring. Foul-smelling blood sprayed from the stump of Mala’s forearm.

He pressed the stump against his red-hot chain, searing the flesh.

But the resultant agony forced him to his knees.

The pain was so great he released his grip on Vikubbati.

MALA’S SEVERED hand, still bearing the ring on its middle finger, tumbled down Bhayatupa’s throat. The ferocious acids in the dragon’s stomach immediately dissolved the flesh and bone, then went to work on the multicolored metal. A bombardment of power exploded inside Bhayatupa’s body, threatening to burst him asunder. But he had no intention of retaining the fire long enough for it to be lethal.

When Mala released Vikubbati, the Kojin reached out, grabbed the trident with her upper-right hand, and held it aloft. It was the worst mistake the ogress ever made. Bhayatupa lowered his snout within a single cubit of the tines and unleashed the fire that was burning in his stomach. In an instant, the Kojin—despite being one of the most powerful creatures to walk the world—was incinerated, and the force of the deluge drove the tail of the trident into the ground, pinning it like a post.

Bhayatupa continued to rain fury on Vikubbati. His strength—combined with Death Energy, the essence of Carūūldassana, and the magic of Invictus that had been contained in the ring—eventually proved too much for the enormous weapon. The golden trident twisted, sagged, and melted.

Even then Bhayatupa did not relent, maintaining the assault until not a shred of Vikubbati was intact. When Bhayatupa finally stopped, there remained a charred area on the ground fifty cubits in diameter. Any creatures caught within that deadly circle, including most of the remaining witches and Stone-Eaters, were also destroyed.

Bhayatupa wasn’t finished yet. Next to go would be Mala himself, but when his eyes went searching for the ruined snow giant, at first he couldn’t find him. Then he saw the despicable
Adho Satta
fleeing eastward toward Hadaya—and Invictus.

Bhayatupa sprang toward Mala and descended on his prey, but
The Torgon
reached the Chain Man first and dove at his legs from behind, knocking Mala off his feet. The wizard stood and raised the Silver Sword above his head, intending to deal a death blow. But by then Bhayatupa had arrived.

Torg saw him and backed away.

Even as Mala stood to run again, Bhayatupa closed his massive jaws over the Chain Man’s head and chomped with all his considerable might. When he had done this to Mala in the mountains west of Kamupadana, the chain had seared his mouth and tongue, forcing him to release his prey. But this time Bhayatupa wielded additional powers, and he was able to lift the ruined snow giant off the ground and shake him wildly before casting his body several hundred cubits into the air. As Mala somersaulted high above the ground, the chain that had imprisoned him for more than two decades came loose and fell away. Mala struck awkwardly amid a patch of wildflowers, the chain landing beside him—cold as a snake.

The Torgon
again reached Mala first and again raised the Silver Sword. Bhayatupa watched the wizard pause, then lower the blade. Then he waddled over and moved his titanic snout within an arm’s length of the wizard’s face.

“Why do you hesitate, Death-Knower?”

Bhayatupa was amazed to see tears in Torg’s eyes. “Look at him,” the wizard said. “See what he has become. Even the charred flesh has healed.”

Bhayatupa’s massive eyes opened even wider. What lay there now was no longer Mala. The Chain Man had been replaced by a beautiful snow giant, his face serene.

“Mala is no more,” Torg said through his tears. “Yama-Deva has returned, though he appears to breathe no longer.”

“I would grieve for him,” Bhayatupa said. “But though the battle might be won, the war is far from over. Do you sense it?”

Torg sighed. “Invictus comes. I must attempt to thwart him. Will you also stand against him? I would not blame you if you fled. You have done enough.”

Bhayatupa’s laugh caused the ground to tremble. “As Vedana would put it, I’ve turned into a goody-goody. Of course I will face the sorcerer. After all, I have recently learned that I have nothing to lose.”

They both laughed—one final time.

WHEN BHAYATUPA unleashed his dragon fire on the Kojin, Kusala fell back hard on his rump and then rolled onto his stomach and covered his face. If he had been just a few paces nearer the conflagration, he would not have survived. As it was, he was able to stand with the aid of a strong hand that gripped one of his biceps.

“Stay with Laylah!” Torg said. “I seek Mala.”

Then the wizard sprinted off. Kusala watched him for a moment, then turned and found Laylah on her hands and knees, her white armor charred. She had been even nearer the dragon than Kusala had been.

“My love!” she was shouting. “Where are you?”

Kusala reached her at the same time that Rajinii was dismounting from Arusha. Sensing the dragon fire, the queen’s destrier had leapt out of harm’s way, saving Rajinii from the worst of the blast. The queen and Kusala helped Laylah to her feet. The sorceress leaned on Obhasa for support.

“My vision is clouded,” she said. “Where is Torg? Help me find him. He must be warned.”

“He will return shortly,” Rajinii said. “Stay with us until then.”

“There is fire,” Laylah mumbled.

“Yes
 . . .
and you were too near, my queen,” Kusala said.

“No
 . . .
no
!” the sorceress said. “You don’t understand. There is fire. Torg must be warned.”

Rajinii gave Kusala a puzzled look, but before he could respond, Podhana and Churikā charged into view.

“Chieftain, the newborns have returned to their former selves,” Podhana said. “When the trident fell, they too fell. Now they are what they once were: poor excuses for soldiers. Against the Tugars and Jivitans who still survive, they are but children. The white horsemen are riding down the golden soldiers by the thousands, and the Daasa and Tugars are slaying the monsters. It is a rout! The battle will soon be won.”

As if on cue, General Navarese and Captain Julich appeared on their destriers. Ugga and Elu joined them, both showing the wear and tear of battle but neither seriously injured.

“The golden guys have turned real small,” Ugga said.

“Our losses are severe, but enough of us remain to finish the job,” Navarese proclaimed. “Victory is at hand.”

“No
 . . .
nooooooo
,” Laylah moaned.

“Is the pretty lady hurt?” said Elu from his perch on Ugga’s back.

“She’s hurt, but not for the reasons you believe,” came a raspy voice from the side. The firstborn, still in his hideous state, had joined them.

“What do you mean?” Kusala said.

“Can you not feel the heat?” Lucius said.

“It’s the hottest day I can remember,” Kusala said. “Has it made Laylah ill?”

“Not that heat
 . . .
the
heat,” Lucius grumbled. Then he turned toward the east and shielded his eyes. “Invictus comes.”

Laylah wailed.

WHEN BHAYATUPA had knocked Invictus off Ulaara’s back, the sorcerer had been caught off guard for one of the few times in his life. Though Invictus had the magical ability to slow his descent, he literally was too flummoxed to do so, and so he struck the glittering face of Lake Hadaya with the force of a plummeting boulder. Deep he sank into the dark water, and it took him longer than expected to rise back to the surface.

Now he truly was angry, and rather than take the time to swim to land, he instead used his magic to propel himself along the surface like a freshwater dolphin. When he reached the shore he dried himself in an instant and then launched golden beams into the sky to signal the dracools. But they did not respond to his summons. Perhaps they were too caught up in the battle. Or maybe all were dead. To make matters even more annoying, it didn’t appear that Ulaara the Black would be returning any time soon. This only served to make Invictus angrier. Now he was in a hurry, his patience worn thin. He had been so close to recapturing Laylah. And then Bhayatupa had intervened.

“You were dead!” Invictus shouted out loud. Yellow balls of sputum flew out of his mouth and sizzled on Iddhi-Pada, punching fist-sized holes in the stone road. “I saw it with my own eyes. I
sensed
it.”

Despite his perplexity, Invictus’s mind returned to Laylah. She had looked so regal in her white armor, with her golden hair—matching his shade exactly—hanging freely beneath her helm. Regardless of Bhayatupa’s surprise appearance, it wouldn’t be long now before Laylah again was under his control. No more wandering about like a wayward child for her. And the bothersome wizard would soon receive his comeuppance. You don’t defy a god and not pay a price.

“You’ll have plenty of time to think about things,” Invictus yelled again, spewing more sputum. “I promise you that, Desert Peasant!”

Invictus was barely aware that his body was ablaze with yellow light and casting enough heat to set aflame the shrubbery lining Iddhi-Pada. Birds and insects that flew too near the wall of shimmering air fell from the sky. The most powerful being to ever live was in no mood for negotiation. Bhayatupa would die, Torg would be punished, and Laylah would belong to Invictus again. He didn’t really care about the rest of them. As for allies, he had enough newborns left at Avici to serve his current purposes, as well as a far-larger army that few outside the Golden City were aware existed. As for enemies, none had the strength to threaten him, no matter their numbers. Anyone who got in his way would be eliminated.

More anxious than ever to set things right, Invictus increased his pace. He leapt dozens of cubits, floated to the ground, and leapt again. Then he began to whistle so loudly it could be heard for a league.

EVEN BEFORE INVICTUS arrived, the sound of his whistling silenced the battlefield. By then, most of the surviving newborns and monsters had fled in the direction of Mahaggata. Though it now was late afternoon, a yellow glow appeared on the eastern horizon that made it appear that the sun was rising for the second time that day. Torg guessed it already was at least one hundred and ten degrees, yet the temperature was continuing to climb. Invictus approached, and there was nothing any of them could do about it—except fight or run.

“He is powerful, but at least he cannot fly,” Bhayatupa said. “I shall strike from above.”

“I wish I could fly,” Torg said. “I would take Laylah now and leave this place.”

“Surely you have considered this already—and chosen otherwise.”

Kusala interrupted Torg’s response, rushing forward with the rest of the Asēkhas and Tugars, minus three thousand that had fallen in the chaotic battle.

“Lord, we will not forsake you,” the chieftain said.

Next, Rajinii charged into view on Arusha. The queen was flanked by Manta, Navarese, Ugga, and Elu. Several thousand mounted Jivitans, all that remained of the proud white horsemen, followed behind them.

Then Lucius and Bonny appeared, and last but not least was Laylah, riding wearily on Izumo. The sorceress had discarded her helm, and her expression of hopelessness smote Torg’s heart.

Torg ran over to her and grasped one of her battered gauntlets. “My love, will you not go to the rear to await the outcome? I will send the Asēkhas with you.”

Laylah’s eyes were glazed. “He comes. And you will not be able to stop him.”

“It’s not too late for both of you to run,” Bhayatupa said. “There is enough strength among us to distract the sorcerer while you flee.”

“I will not run,” Laylah said to Torg. “But I ask one final favor. Assign an Asēkha to my side—with orders to take my head, if you fall.”

Kusala stepped forward and bowed. “Consider it done, my queen. I will not fail you. But while my king still lives, I will not strike.”

“Very well,” she said.

Meanwhile, the whistling had grown louder, causing the destriers to become restless. Yet another increase in the intensity of the heat accompanied this. Though it was late enough in the day for the eastern horizon already to be darkening, instead it was as bright as midmorning.

The Chain Man’s army was routed. This should have been cause for celebration. Yet defenders of Jivita still felt as if defeat were imminent. Including the six thousand Tugars, more than ten thousand had survived the battle and now stood against Invictus. Surely there had never been such fear when so many were pitted against one.

Just as Torg swung around to face the coming evil, Laylah sagged in the high saddle and collapsed against Izumo’s barded crest. Torg lifted her off the stallion’s back and lowered her to a seated position on the grass.

“My love
 . . .
” said Torg, already sensing what was affecting her so profoundly.

Laylah managed to open her eyes, and when she looked at him with such sadness, Torg nearly swooned. “Beloved, he is too
 . . .
strong.”

“Bhayatupa is with us,” Torg offered in response.

The sorceress turned her head slightly and looked up at the massive beast. “Invictus is too
 . . .
strong. Even for
 . . .
you.”

“I have grown,” Bhayatupa said. “Perhaps it will be enough.”

“No
 . . .
”

Navarese interrupted. “
Lord Torgon
, our time runs short. We must arrange some sort of defense.”

Laylah giggled, though there was a mania to it that all who heard found disturbing. Such a wicked sound passing through her lips caused Torg to shiver, despite the furnace-like heat.

Rajinii rose in her saddle and cast off her helm, which tumbled to the ground an impressive distance away. “General, take what remains of the white horsemen and depart the battlefield. Return to Jivita, gather all those who remain in the White City, and lead them to the havens. Once there, feel free to arrange whatever defense suits you. It might be that the sorcerer will pay you little heed—at least in the near future.”

“My queen!” Navarese shouted, his cheeks as crimson as one of Bhayatupa’s scales. “How can you utter such words? Our place is here. Do you take us for cowards?”

“These are not
words
, general. These are orders. The foe that approaches cannot be defeated by strength of arms. The white horsemen are of no use here. Only the necromancers shall remain with me.”

This obviously stunned Navarese. But he seemed to see in her eyes the futility of debate. “Very well. I will do as you
command
.” Then he reined his destrier roughly, causing the warhorse to snort in anger. Soon after, the remnants of the once-great Jivitan army were cantering westward toward the White City.

Rajinii turned to Torg. “My general feels betrayed. But you and Laylah understand why I gave this order.
Lord Torgon
, will you not do the same?”

The whistling grew even louder, making it difficult to hear his own thoughts, but Torg saw the wisdom in her words. The king of Anna nodded to his chieftain. “Kusala, give the command.”

“Lord?”

“Order the Tugars to flee the plains. They are to return to Anna and bolster its defense.”

“But
 . . .
”

“Kusala!”

The chieftain’s eyes went wide, then became slits as resignation took hold. He tilted his chin upward and released a series of high-pitched screeches. Many of the Tugars had been standing near enough to hear much of what already had been said, but even then they hesitated.

Torg followed with a screech of his own.

Finally the desert warriors relented, rushing southward on their way to skirting Hadaya and then entering the Gap of Gati. With them went the black knights who had accompanied the
Kantaara
Yodhas
from Nissaya.

Soon only a small gathering remained: Torg, Laylah, Rajinii, Manta, six other necromancers, Kusala, the Asēkhas, Lucius, Bonny, the Daasa, Ugga, Elu, Burly Boulogne, and of course, Bhayatupa the Great. Yet despite their modest numbers, they were not without formidable power.

Ugga urged his destrier next to Torg. Then the crossbreed dismounted and released the straps that had held Elu to his back. Both cast off their helms.

“Master Hah-nah,” said Ugga, bearing a pained expression. “Where has Jord gone? Why has she left us again, especially when In-vick-tuss is so near?”

Torg grasped one of Ugga’s massive gauntlets. “I don’t know where she has gone
 . . .
or why. Her methods are beyond me.”

Ugga started to cry, something he had done on a daily basis since the death of Bard. “My days as a man will soon pass, and I wanted to say goodbye to her. I loves her, I does. Why didn’t she say goodbye to me?”

“Perhaps because she doesn’t have to,” Torg said. “Even after your death, she will be there to guide you.”

Ugga’s tears ceased. Then he managed to smile. “Master Hah-nah, ya always say just the right thing.” He lunged forward and gave Torg a massive hug. “Thank ya so much.”

The Svakaran ran over and hugged one of Torg’s thick legs. “Elu thanks you too. Elu loves you—and all his dear friends.”

Now it was Laylah’s turn to cry, but it was a different sound than Torg was accustomed to hearing from her, as if containing seeds of insanity ready to sprout. More than any among them, the sorceress was sensing Invictus’s approach. More than any among them, she recognized its ramifications.

Lucius was the next to step forward. The firstborn still chose to remain in his hideous state, but the others had grown so used to it, they hardly noticed. “You and Laylah have chosen to stay and fight. If I had been you, I would have taken her as far from here as possible.”

“If so, then why is Bonny still here?” Torg said.

Lucius growled, but Bonny grasped his arm and squeezed. This seemed to settle the firstborn. “There are those among us with reason to hate Invictus, none more than Laylah and I,” Lucius said. “And I’m sure you’ve all noticed that the Daasa also have not transformed back to their original states, even though the enemy has been vanquished. That tells me that they sense the coming of Invictus and desire revenge for his wrongdoings against their kind. To be honest, I already have tried to send them away, but they have ignored me.”

Laylah spoke suddenly, her voice cold but steady. “You and Bonny should leave. The Daasa will follow you.”

“That is not what I meant
 . . .
”

“You’ll be slaughtered. The Daasa will be slaughtered. Torg. Everyone! What’s the use? To save me? I won’t be saved, anyway. Please, Lucius
 . . .
Go. And take Bonny and the Daasa with you.”

“It is too late,” came Bhayatupa’s rumbling voice from above. “Invictus is here, and the Daasa go to greet him. I must take flight, but do not despair. I will not forsake you.” The dragon sprang into the air.