Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (40 page)

“I have journeyed through much of the world, but I was born in Tējo, and the desert is where my heart remains.”

“The quiet of the desert is a good place to spend the present moment,” Tathagata agreed.

“I’m glad you feel that way
 . . .
because it is my assignment to take you there.”

If this stunned the High Nun, she did not show it. “I had assumed we were to be returned to Dibbu-Loka,” she said calmly.

“War is at hand, Sister. In a very short time, Anna will be the only safe place left.”

“That depends on how you define the word
safe
. Surely, Invictus has lost his interest in Dibbu-Loka. It offers him nothing of value, other than a few sculptures and paintings.”

“You and the noble ones have value,” Tāseti said. “The Tugars must not allow your welfare to be compromised again. It almost cost us our king.”

“But it did not?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Little news comes this way. Yet I know The Torgon still lives. I would have sensed his passing.”

“Then why play games with words?”

“Games? You mistook my meaning. I wasn’t referring to his life or death.”

Tāseti grunted. “We leave for Anna in the morning.”

“And if I refuse to accompany you?”

“You will be roped onto the back of a camel.”

“You would do such a thing to a fragile old woman?”

“You are old, but not fragile. Regardless, don’t blame me. This comes straight from Torg.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The Death-Knower is the only one who would even care.”

“You underestimate us, Sister. The Tugars care about a great many things.”

“The Tugars feel it is their duty to protect the weak. But do you understand the true meaning of strength? If Invictus imprisoned us, tortured or killed us, we would view it as just one more learning experience. The cycle of birth, death, and rebirth ends only with the attainment of enlightenment.”

“I do not doubt your ability to withstand torture. I witnessed your courage firsthand in Dibbu-Loka,” Tāseti said, with a touch of sarcasm.

“Aaaaaaah, Asēkha
 . . .
you have quick wit. You refer, of course, to my cowardly reaction to the appearance of Mala. I must admit that such a thing has never happened to me before. There was something in the monster’s eyes that unsettled me. I could see Yama-Deva trapped behind them, begging me to save him. But I knew then, as I do now, that I could not. Only Yama-Deva himself can perform this miracle.”

“When I looked into Mala’s eyes, I saw only evil. He is a bane that must be eradicated, not coddled or cajoled.”

“There is no mercy in your heart?”

“For Mala? None.”

BENEATH A FIERY sun, they set out the next morning: two Asēkhas and fourteen Tugars adorned in black, five hundred monks and nuns wearing white robes with white head cloths, fifty camels, and one horse. Each camel carried almost twenty stones of baggage, including flour, rice, and dates. But most of the weight was in water—a dozen goatskins per beast filled that morning at the spring in the haven. Chieftain carried his own needs: ten skins of water and a bulging sack of grain.

The Tugarian drums were too cumbersome to haul on such a journey, so their ability to communicate over far distances would be limited. Therefore, Appam was sent ahead on his own to spread the word of their coming among any allies he might encounter before arriving at Anna. This would increase the likelihood of their receiving aid before they reached the Tent City. Tāseti was counting on it.

From here on, water would be a precious commodity. Tugars were excellent at finding it in the least likely of places, but they were even better at rationing what they already had. The noble ones, though much smaller in stature, still would require a good deal more than their warrior companions, especially once they passed through Barranca and entered the true desert.

A short time before noon, they reached the trail that angled up to the vast mesa. Even for Tugars, it was a difficult ascent. Loose rocks and crumbly soil made it even more hazardous. The camels snarled and roared as they climbed—a hot, sweaty business that took half the afternoon. The Tugar warriors saved more than one life by grabbing a handful of white robe just as a monk or nun was about to stumble off the side of the trail. Tāseti was relieved when everyone was safely on the mesa.

The afternoon grew torridly hot. Tāseti ordered a halt, and they rested on sheepskin rugs within an abundant stand of mesquite, the only significant shade for several leagues. They would journey on the mesa for two more days—during daylight, regrettably. Along this stretch, there were too many dangers to risk stumbling along in darkness. Once they descended to more easily traversable terrain, they would reverse their habits and travel mostly between dusk and dawn.

The mesa extended halfway to Barranca, and though Tāseti had traveled it frequently on her way to and from the rest of the world, it was one of her least favorite places. Giant sagebrush choked most of it, concealing thousands of depressions in the limestone perfectly sized and shaped to trap a foot and sprain an ankle. Few animals lived on this area of the plateau, but most that did were dangerous to the unwary: scorpions, rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and fist-sized bats that fed on blood. Several varieties of poisonous plants were capable of causing anything from a small rash to a painful death. The Tugars knew all these things and walked freely among them without concern, but the noble ones had far less knowledge and physical immunity. Tāseti had chosen this route only because there was no better one.

After a brief rest, they marched until dusk, moving at an agonizingly slow pace and covering less than a league before stopping to camp. The Tugars led them to a bare area of stone covered with brown sand. The bald would not be a comfortable place to sleep, but at least it provided protection, giving the poisonous creatures fewer places from which to stage an ambush. Anyone stupid enough to sleep within the sagebrush would wake up “worse for wear,” as Vasi masters liked to say.

While the Tugars built several fires, the noble ones pitched a slew of camel-skin tents, each large enough to sleep six. The sand was just deep and dense enough to hold the stakes in place.

The Tugars dropped cakes of kneaded dough on the fires, quickly searing the outsides and then burying the dough in the sand beneath the embers. It was no easy task to feed so many, especially when they refused meat. To Tāseti’s dismay, the noble ones drank far too much water before and after the meal. When they camped the next evening, she would have to lecture them. But it had been a rough first day, so this time she permitted it.

Though the heat of the day had been uncomfortable, the chill night air was worse. The dramatic contrast in temperature caused the noble ones to shiver. After their meal, most of them either huddled by fires or went directly to their tents. In contrast, neither the heat nor cold affected the Tugars, and they needed little sleep, standing silently beneath the clear sky and watching the crescent moon rise at midnight.

Before first light, the Tugars roused the noble ones and gave them rice for breakfast before breaking camp. In the coolness of early morning, the band made better progress, covering almost two leagues by noon. As feared, one of the monks hurt an ankle and could no longer walk. Tāseti spread some of Chieftain’s load among the camels and put the monk on the gelding’s back.

In the early afternoon, they ate lightly again and then marched until dusk, covering two more leagues despite the afternoon heat. They found another bald, its location well-known to the Tugars, and camped at dusk. Before sleep, they ate buttered bread and a thin vegetable stew flavored with salted sardines. The noble ones would not eat the fish, but they tolerated the broth only because it provided them with much-needed nourishment.

The next morning, they came upon a dry bed gouged out of the limestone by a long-dead river. The arroyo was shallow at first, but it deepened to fifty cubits or more below the surface of the plateau. Huge slabs of rock had broken off its sides and tumbled into its bed. Tea plants, thickets, and prickly cactus clung to the remnants of the ancient landslides, which swarmed with spiders and scorpions feeding on mice and other insects. The arroyo, which was about thirty paces wide in most places, would have been impossible to traverse except for a natural path down its middle, as if an ambitious giant had cleared away the rocks. Though they were forced to proceed in single file, they made the best progress of the journey thus far, despite the dreadful heat.

The arroyo eventually spilled off the side of the mesa, descending upon a lower range of flat land. By nightfall, they had left the dreaded highlands behind and were within sight of the western border of Barranca.

Tāseti could not have been more pleased. It would take their slow-moving band a week to cross the rocky wasteland, but they would have little to fear while doing so. And beyond Barranca lay the desert.

Her beloved Tējo was so close she could taste it.

AT THE CAMP that night, Sister Tathagata felt strangely lightheaded—and she had never been so thirsty. Though none of the ordinary Tugars dared chastise her, Tāseti found the courage to complain about her excessive consumption of water. But Tathagata couldn’t stop herself. The evening after they’d left the haven, her mouth had become constantly dry, more so even than the exertions of the journey should have demanded. She became concerned that she was coming down with a fever, which would make the march to Anna far more difficult. She found a quiet place on the rim of the camp and tried to meditate. Normally, she would be able to view her discomforts with detached concentration, watching them rise and fall in wave upon wave of impermanence. But this thirst was different.

When she watched her breath, it only made it worse. She found herself literally sneaking behind Tāseti’s back to drink. She noticed several others doing the same, their normally placid faces flushed and agitated. Did she look that way, too? Sister Tathagata, the
Perfect One
? This was the kind of behavior for which she had lectured others. Never before had she felt so out of control.

The Tugars gave them bread, dates, and berries. She ate mindfully but did not enjoy the small meal. She would have preferred the stew with the sardines. This time, she would have eaten the fish along with the broth.

After feeding the monks and nuns, Tāseti, Rati, and the desert warriors had roasted a bighorn sheep they had brought down earlier that day with a bead from a sling. The warriors were tearing into it with gusto, relishing the greasy meat and washing it down with Tugarian wine.

The High Nun stood silently off to the side and watched, her mouth watering. She almost felt like she could take a bite herself, an especially juicy bite—and she hadn’t eaten the flesh of an animal since she was a child almost three thousand years ago.

To somehow quench her newfound desires, she snuck over to the water-skins and drank until her stomach bloated. Then she staggered to her tent and slept. The nuns by her side smelled like raw meat.

“HOW FAR to Jivita?” Lucius said to Bonny as they huddled together beneath the stars on the border of the forest Dhutanga, still only a couple of leagues south of where the druids had ambushed them earlier that day. They did not dare a fire.

Bonny lay on her side and placed her head on his lap. “I have never been to the White City, but I know the maps. It’s close to eighty leagues. With the Daasa wandering about as much as they do, it could take two weeks or more.”

“The druids will easily reach the White City before us, if that’s their desire—though it’s probable they’ll wait until Nissaya is under siege before they attack Jivita. But I can’t help but worry about Laylah and the others. What hope do we have of ever seeing them alive?”

“I believe the great wizard will save Missus Laylah. And if they can escape to the river, they will be in Jivita long before us.”

Lucius looked down at her face and stroked her short red hair. “I hope you’re right.”

The corners of Bonny’s mouth turned downward. “Do you love Missus Laylah?”

Lucius smiled. “Yes. But don’t worry, not in that way
 . . .
anymore. I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

Her face brightened. “Me?”

“No
 . . .
Ugga.” Then he laughed, leaned down, and kissed her on the mouth.

The next morning, while the Daasa grazed, Lucius focused his attention on Ugga and Bard. Something about their behavior seemed odd. They were more sluggish than before, which was understandable considering everything they had been through the past several weeks. But they also acted as if they were as sore and stiff as worn-out old men. Come to think of it, they
looked
older, their beards flecked with gray. Had they been that way before?

After their encounter with the druids, Bonny, Ugga, and Bard wanted to head toward the foothills of the Mahaggatas, thereby staying as far from the forest as possible. But Lucius argued against it.

“For one thing, I don’t think the druids are much interested in us anymore,” he said. “For another, the Daasa always seem hungry, so we need to keep them near a steady supply of food. There’ll be more here on the edge of the forest than in the foothills. And we’ve reached a point where we’ll need to start fending for ourselves, even if it’s just wild berries, like Elu said.”

“I wishes the little guy was here with us now,” Ugga said. “I misses him.”

“I misses all of them,” Bard said. “Especially Jord.”

In low spirits, they began the tedious march toward the White City. The Daasa, however, seemed anything but downcast, charging about frenetically, climbing trees, tearing through shrubs, and splashing in streams. When they came upon large ponds, the Daasa squealed with delight and dove in by the hundreds. Lucius was amazed to see that they were excellent swimmers, almost more comfortable in water than on land. He wondered what they would do if they encountered a lake the size of Hadaya. How far and deep would they swim? And how long could they stay submerged? Lucius wished he could see for himself.

“The Daasa are cutesy,” Bard said. “But they make loud noises that scare everything away. Pretty soon, we’ll need to hunt. Maybe Ugga and I should go on ahead and see if we can get us something.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Lucius said. “But I’m worried about how the Daasa will react if they see us eating a dead animal. As far as I can tell, they feed on only nuts, berries, and leaves.”

“Only when they are in their nicey state,” Bonny said. “When they turn mean, they eat almost anything. I have seen it up close
 . . .
very close.”

“We have to eat,” Ugga said. “And more than just berries. I don’t know about ya guys, but I is not feeling so good. I needs something hot in my tummy so that I can get strong again. I is so hungry
 . . .
I thinks I smell something cooking right now.”

“Me too,” Bard said.

“So do I,” Lucius said. “It can’t be all our imaginations.”

Without warning, Bard and Ugga took off in the direction of the delicious aroma, though the handsome trapper was limping, and the crossbreed was as hunched over as Rathburt. The Daasa charged after them, squealing and whistling in their peculiar manner.

Bonny shrugged. “Let’s go see what it is. If it tastes half as good as it smells, then I’m all for it.”

They approached a broad hill. Despite their new infirmities, Bard and Ugga were the first to surmount and then disappear over the crest. The Daasa poured after them, kicking up a cloud of grass and dust. Lucius jogged and then ran—and still he was losing ground. Even Bonny was outdistancing him.

“Come on,” she shouted back at him. “Run!”

Then Bonny disappeared, and for a few disconcerting moments, Lucius was alone, as if his companions had vanished from the world. When he finally reached the top of the hill, he stopped and stared down. At its base, a dozen oaks—huge and ancient—encircled a longhouse. A trail of white smoke poured from a hole in its roof. Apparently, Bard and Ugga already were inside, while Bonny was charging toward the door. The Daasa, meanwhile, lay outside the cabin like well-trained pets waiting patiently on their masters.

Lucius panicked.
How
have you gotten so far ahead
? “Wait!” he screamed. “We don’t know who’s there. Wait!”

And then Bonny was gone also. Lucius stumbled down the hill, shouting and cursing. But he didn’t seem able to make any progress.

What’s happening
?
Where am I
? His face was hot and swollen, his vision blurred. Rage and turmoil consumed his thoughts.

And the pain
 . . .
such terrible pain.

Such angry pain.

Such sweet pain.

Then darkness.

WHEN LUCIUS woke inside the small room, it really
was
dark, but a merry fire blazed a few paces from his mattress, which smelled like pine needles. For the first time since Duccarita, he noticed that his magically healed arm no longer throbbed. Bonny sat beside him, caressing his brow with a damp cloth. He bolted upright, his eyes wild.

“Shhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhhh!” she said soothingly. “Lay back, sweety. Everything is all right now, though you had us worried. It was Jord who finally found you and helped us bring you back here, safe and sound. Where did you think you were going? You were wandering around the woods like a madman.”

“Jord
 . . .
the eagle-woman? I thought the dragon killed her.”

Bonny laughed. “If he did, then a ghost is taking care of us now.”

Lucius sat up again, more deliberately this time, and looked around the room. In addition to the hearth, he saw a roughly hewn table, several chairs, and some small barrels by the door. Otherwise the chamber was empty, as if whoever lived here did so sparingly.

“Where is everyone?”

Bonny laughed again. “They are outside with the Daasa. Do you want to go see? I think Jord wants to talk to you, anyway. She seems to think you are important or something. I can’t imagine why.”

Bonny leaned forward and gave him a wet kiss on the mouth that tasted like beer. Then she leaped up and rushed to the door. “Come on, sleepyhead. There’s some good eating out here—the food’s still hot. And some good drinking too—the beer’s still cold.”

Lucius remained confused. When he stood up, he felt nauseated and dizzy but determined to follow. Bonny had left the door ajar, and he pushed it slowly open. About fifty paces away, a skinned and spitted deer was suspended above a crackling fire. Bard and Ugga stood next to it, drinking with gusto from large pewter mugs. Beside them was a woman with long white hair that hung past her waist. She wore a white gown that nearly matched the color of her skin.

“Master Loo-shus!” Ugga bellowed. “Come and have some beer. It is ex-cell-lent. I had almost forgotten how much I loves it. And we roasted a deer while ya were sleeping. We’ve eaten a lot of it, but don’t worry, there’s plenty left.”

Jord turned to him. When she spoke, her voice was strong and clear. “You are safe in the house of Jord. Now is the time to build your strength for the difficult times ahead.”

Ugga handed him a mug of beer.

Lucius sniffed it, almost suspiciously, and then took a sip. Not since the inn at Duccarita had he tasted anything so delicious.

Ugga and Bard were already several mugs ahead of him—Bonny, too, for that matter. The pirate woman gave him a wooden trencher with chunks of sizzling venison, white cheese, boiled cabbage, and stewed berries. He picked at it with his fingers, amazed to discover that he wasn’t particularly hungry. But he was thirsty and soon downed second and third helpings of beer. The others watched him with amusement, their eyes sparkling in the firelight.

Finally he quit drinking long enough to speak. “Where are the Daasa?”

“They are just a little ways away, fast asleep,” Bonny said. “They ate too many of the young berries, I think. It made them drunk and tired.”

“I must be a Daasa because I is drunk and tired too,” Ugga said. “I thinks I will go inside the cabin and lie down.”

“I’ll join ya,” Bard said.

Bonny yawned. “I must be a Daasa too,” she said to Lucius. “Would you mind if I went with the boys, sweety? Just to sleep, I mean. I promise I will behave myself.”

“I trust you,” Lucius said.

“A
little
jealousy would be nice,” she said, before leaning down and kissing him on the cheek. Then she staggered to the cabin, barely making it inside the door. After she was gone, Lucius looked up at Jord, whose hair swirled as if in the midst of a magical maelstrom.

“I thought you were dead,” he said at last.

“Dead? Alive? I am neither.”

“I don’t know what that means. Who are you, really?”

“I am a friend
 . . .
to you and the others. Will you walk with me?”

“Where? Why?”

“There is something I must show you. Do you not trust me?”

“I neither trust nor distrust you.”

Lucius stood and brushed off his breeches. It was only then that he noticed he was wearing a different outfit than before he arrived at the cabin. “What happened to my clothes? And where did you find these new ones?”

“You ask many questions, firstborn.”

“That’s what Torg always says. And—like you—he gives me few answers.”

Jord threw back her head and laughed. It was a rich and pleasant sound. “Sometimes the wise don’t answer because it takes too long to explain all that they know. But we must delay no longer. The night grows old. After what you’ve been through, you need sleep even more than the others.”

“After what I’ve been through?”

Jord took his hand and led him into the dark forest. The gibbous moon glowed in a clear sky, providing enough light to see for about a hundred paces. The Daasa were all around him. Though they were quite large, even in their gentle state, many of them had managed to climb into the trees and were asleep in the branches.

Then Lucius stopped and gasped. A few paces from where he stood, the trunk of a thick pine had been split in two near the base, splinters of wood jutting skyward. The upper portion of the tree had been dragged more than a stone’s throw away. And beyond that, there was more damage: other trees gashed and scarred, bushes uprooted and shredded, and most disturbingly, a Tyger the size of a mountain wolf mangled and partially devoured. Lucius stared in dismay, especially at the ruined carcass of the wild cat. What could have done such a thing? And would it return?