Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (42 page)

THEY ATE another meal at dusk, which Lucius skipped again. He still didn’t feel hungry, and it made him a little nauseous when his mind pondered why. A large portion of the Tyger carcass had been devoured, and his stomach still wasn’t as flat as usual.

After their meal, Lucius and the others left Jord’s cabin and began their long march. When the mood struck, the Daasa slept like babies, but when awake they were bundles of energy, darting to and fro in search of food, water, and entertainment. Though they were capable of running almost as fast as horses while in their nicey state, they spent as much time scampering sideways and backward as they did forward. They dove into ponds, splashed in streams, climbed trees and mounds, rooted in piles of dead leaves, and wrestled friskily with each other. Bonny even pointed one time to a pair that appeared to be mating.

The look she gave Lucius caused a certain area of his body to tingle. Then she took his arm. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweety,” she said in a cheerful voice. “I don’t love you because you are a monster. I love you because you are not. Who we are right now is who we really are. But being able to change into something different is a blessing from the
One God
, not a curse. Nobody wants to be weak, especially when it comes to war. And believe me, sweety, you and I are not weak. You will see, when the time comes again.”

Lucius swiveled and hugged her. “I’m sorry for what I said before. I was scared and angry. You’ve been wonderful to me since the moment we met. If not for you, I’d still be obsessing over a woman who loves someone else.”

“You are not obsessing anymore?”

“I still love her. And wish her well. But I no longer want to be her lover. It’s you I want, if you’ll still have me.”

“I’ll still have you
 . . .
on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Soon, sweety,” she said. “I want to have you soon.”

THEY HALTED THEIR march before dawn, ate bread, cheese, and berries, and then began to prepare for sleep. Though the Warlish witch had destroyed his
uttara
, Lucius still carried the Mogol war club, and his arms were sore despite switching it frequently from hand to hand. The Daasa settled down wherever they could make themselves comfortable: soft grass, a bed of leaves, the crook of a tree. Bard and Ugga cast themselves upon deerskin blankets and were asleep in moments, the crossbreed hugging the staff of his axe like a favorite toy.

Jord walked over to Lucius and placed her hand on his chest. “I do not need sleep,” she said. “I will keep the watch.” Then she smiled knowingly and strode away.

“She’s telling us it’s all right,” Bonny said from behind him.

“What’s all right?”

“
You
know.”

“Aaaaaaah
 . . .
”

In some areas, the gap between Dhutanga and the foothills of Mahaggata was less than a mile wide. Bonny grabbed a blanket and then took Lucius’ hand, leading him eastward, away from the woods. At first, some of the Daasa who were still awake started to follow, but Bonny hissed at them with surprising vehemence, causing them to hunker down and back away, clearly intimidated.

This impressed Lucius. “You even scared
me
a little.”

“Maybe you
should
be scared,” she said, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.

Soon they came upon a jumble of low hills, the tallest of which were no more than fifty cubits. They passed over several before finding a hidden hollow.

“This is the best we can do,” she said, spreading the blanket on a patch of grass. “If someone sees us, good for them.”

By now the sun had started to rise, filling the hollow with yellow light. It was not a time to be shy.

“Bonny, there’s one other thing I have to tell you,” Lucius said timidly.

“What else could there be, sweety?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve never done this
 . . .
had
 . . .
I have witnessed every form of sex you could imagine, but I’ve never
 . . .
I know that sounds absurd, but it’s the truth.”

Bonny laughed, but gently. “I knew there was
something
weird about you.”

She removed her coat and undershirt. Her breasts were small but lovely, in contrast to shoulders packed with muscle. Her stomach also rippled. The pirate woman was less feminine than Laylah, but she was beautiful in her own way.

Though his heart was thudding, Lucius felt a strange calmness, enabling him to take his time and enjoy his newfound treasure. He kissed her mouth, then her neck and breasts. He paused at the long scar on her belly and nibbled it. When he did that, she moaned and reached for his breeches.

“Hurry, Lucius,” she whispered. “I
want
it.”

“No
 . . .
let’s not hurry.”

But he allowed her to remove his clothes and the rest of her own, and he pulled her naked onto the blanket, both of them gasping and moaning.

So much for going slowly.

When he entered her, she screamed so hard it hurt his ears. She clawed at his bare back and buttocks with enough force to draw beads of blood, while wrapping her muscular thighs around his waist and squeezing the breath out of him. He pumped faster. Never had he felt such pleasure or experienced such passion. It made his infatuation with Laylah seem like a childish crush. This was real—for both Bonny and him. Everything about her wild, squirmy body filled him with lust.

Sometime during their lovemaking, his face grew strangely hot and his arms and legs thick and heavy. A relentlessly building dizziness blurred his vision. Yet it only seemed to empower him. He felt terrible pain. But not all pain is bad. Lucius pounded into her harder and harder, as if trying to tear her apart. But within the clouded veil of his desire, he could hear her screaming, “Yes! Let it happen! Don’t
stop
!”

Then he was growling.

And she was growling.

Spittle flew from their mouths.

When he transformed, she did the same.

Afterward they lay in each other’s arms and slept. When they woke in the early afternoon, their bodies had returned to normal. They made love again, in a more traditional fashion—though they still managed a little more growling.

When they returned to the camp, most of the others were already awake. Ugga and Bard had made a cream soup flavored with strips of deer meat to enjoy with bread, fruit, and cheese. To Lucius, it seemed like a feast. For the first time since the bizarre night at the cabin, he felt hungry. Being with Bonny had taken a lot of energy. Afterward, the four of them drank some wine. Jord was nowhere to be seen.

“Jord has been gone for a long time,” Bard said. “She left while we were sleeping.”

“Kinda strange,” Bonny said. “Where would she be off to now?”

“Maybe she took Bard’s suggestion and went on a scouting mission,” Lucius said.

“I hopes she hasn’t run off again,” Ugga said, his small eyes darting about. “I was wishing she’d stay around this time.”

“Don’t you worry your big ol’ head!” came a voice from off to the side. Jord appeared, as if out of nowhere. “I won’t be leaving you for a while.”

“Where’d ya go?” Bard said.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets.”

“Did you learn anything more about the druids?” Lucius said hopefully.

“I have seen them,” Jord admitted. “They are far away. Not a one is on our side of Cariya. In fact, this whole area is clear of
any
enemies—not even a wolf or Mogol. We’ve chosen a good place to take a walk. But there’ll be plenty of fighting for us once we reach Jivita.”

The news seemed to please all of them. The dreadful battle that loomed in their future felt unreal. Just to be cautious, they continued to walk mostly at night, but they encountered nothing threatening—not even a Tyger or a bear, much to Ugga’s chagrin. Occasionally Bard went off by himself and returned with game. The Daasa showed no interest in it, but neither were they offended. Whenever they were hungry, they fended for themselves.

Lucius and Bonny made love every morning, then slept naked beneath the hot sun. It was the best time of Lucius’ life. After seven marches, they covered about forty leagues and were halfway to Jivita. The closer they got, the more Lucius dreaded it. He felt like someone who dreamt he was in heaven but knew he would wake up in hell.

Would the Daasa be slaughtered in the war?

Ugga and Bard?

Bonny?

Please, not her. He even found himself praying to the
One God
to spare her. For that, he gladly would sacrifice himself.

During the late afternoon of the tenth day since they left Jord’s cabin, a squadron of Jivitan horsemen—three hundred strong—caught sight of them and approached rapidly from the south. Lucius feared this moment. If the Daasa saw the horsemen as a threat, would they butcher them? To Lucius’ relief, the squadron halted half a mile away. Only a single rider came forward.

It was the first time Lucius had ever seen an armored Jivitan. The rider and his destrier impressed him. If there were thousands more of such men, women, and horses, would it be such an impossible task to defeat the druids?

The horseman dismounted, walked directly to Lucius, and bowed. When he straightened and stared at the Daasa, they chittered playfully, appearing to approve of the white-haired man.

“I am Worrins-Julich, senior captain of the
Assarohaa
,” he said in a clear voice. “I ride in search of General Lucius Annaeus. You match his description. Are you that man?”

“I am.”

“And you have proof?”

“If you know of me, then you know of my companions. What more proof do you need?”

Bonny stepped forward and handed Julich the scroll that Ditthi-Rakkhati had given her. The captain read it carefully, then respectfully handed it back.

“Rakkhati was my wife’s brother,” he said to Bonny. “His death is a great loss to me and to all who hold Jivita dear. We have long been aware, missus, that you assisted his brave efforts in Duccarita. Let it be known that your years of toil on behalf of the White City will not go unrewarded.”

Then he turned to Lucius. “It is said you are a traitor.”

“True enough.”

Julich smiled. “A traitor to Invictus is a hero to the world. It would be my honor, General Lucius Annaeus, to escort you and your companions to Jivita—if you will have me.”

“And what will we find when we arrive?” Lucius said.

“The most beautiful city in the world. Will you help us defend it?”

“That is my desire,” Lucius said.

ON THE SAME night that Tāseti and Rati camped on the shores of Lake Keo, Laylah finally closed her eyes, the side of her beautiful face resting against Torg’s heart. It was midnight, and Elu had been long asleep, curled in the bottom of the canoe like a little boy, his healing body needing rest more than anything else. Torg remained awake.

His long journey from the Tent City to the White City would soon come to an end. He had left Anna in the summer and had arrived at the southern border of Dhutanga in early spring. In between, he had surrendered himself to Mala at Dibbu-Loka, come face-to-face with Invictus at Avici, endured the agony of the pit on Mount Asubha, destroyed the spider Dukkhatu, battled witches in Kamupadana, aided in the destruction of Duccarita, escaped the druids in the heart of Dhutanga, and ridden the rapids of Cariya to where he now sat.

He was lucky to be alive. Then again, perhaps luck had little to do with it. The overwhelming tide of karma had been set into motion, with Torg as one of its many agents. He believed he would survive this lifetime for as long as was needed and no longer—which was true for everyone who ever lived.

Torg tilted his head down and sniffed Laylah’s hair. There was a foul smell to it, faint but detectable. Though their impromptu swim in Cariya had washed most of the dried goo away, shreds of the druid queen’s mucous fluids still clung to Laylah’s scalp. He lovingly combed her blond strands with glowing fingers, vaporizing the residues from the druid queen, along with naturally accumulated dirt and oils. When he finished, her hair was luxuriously clean. He then swept over the rest of her body and clothes with the palm of his hand while she slept. Afterward, he slipped out from under her and did the same for Elu—and then himself.

At least we’ll be presentable when the white horsemen find us,
though it will still be nice to take a hot bath once we reach Jivita. I won’t turn down a little luxury.

Torg pondered what might happen next. Since leaving Anna, his goals had been twofold, save the noble ones and reach Jivita. He had achieved the first at great sacrifice, and now the second appeared close at hand. He knew that within a month, Mala’s army would besiege Nissaya while the druids were attacking Jivita. If the fortress fell, the Chain Man would march west and assail the White City.

With a sudden shiver, Torg realized that no matter the final outcome at Jivita, the Sun God would still be in command. He had tasted Invictus’ power, if only briefly, and it had dismayed him. What good did it do any of them to defeat Mala, when the specter of Invictus remained? Torg had no answer, other than his trust in fate. Something would intervene, a solution would arise, help would come from an unexpected source. His selflessness at Dibbu-Loka demanded it; his suffering in the pit and beyond could not have been in vain. There were forces at work greater than he. Would they eventually prove more powerful than Invictus? That was yet to be seen.

As the canoe drifted steadily southward, Torg again took Laylah in his arms, slipping so delicately beneath her that she did not awaken. Then he began to cry. If her brother came for her, as he surely would, how could Torg stop him? If she were again enslaved, how could Torg rescue her? He considered sending her with a Tugarian escort to the Jivitan havens by the sea, but what good would that do? Invictus would find her, sooner or later. Even if Torg and Laylah sailed across the ocean, the sorcerer would follow. They could outrun him for a year, or a decade, or a century, but not forever. Flight was not an option. Torg had to draw the line at Jivita—and hope that karma provided him with the means to defeat the Sun God. It was either that or suicide
 . . .
and not the temporary kind. Torg did not discount that option for both him and Laylah, especially if it meant saving her from a semi-eternity of suffering at the hands of a lunatic.

Torg must have been crying harder than he thought. Laylah’s eyes opened, and she looked up at him. “What is it, beloved?”

Torg lifted her and kissed her full lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. When they finished, she asked him again. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I’m sworn to protect you, but I’m not sure I can. What if I fail?”

Now tears sprang from Laylah’s eyes. She hugged him so hard it rocked the canoe. “We can’t think that way. We have to enjoy every moment we have together. No matter what happens, he can’t steal our love from us. It’s too strong. If he does take me again, our love is what will keep me sane. In some ways, it’s what kept me sane before you and I ever met. Somehow, I knew you were out there . . . and one day would find me.”

“That will be true even beyond this lifetime.”

Then they both cried, until sleep took them in its dark embrace. The canoe stayed its course for a remarkably long time, but eventually it wandered off the river into a creek and gently came to rest nose-first upon a sandy bank.

Soon after, night completed its final bow and then stepped aside, surrendering the stage to the rising sun.

BEFORE DAWN, a Jivitan squadron rode through the north gates of the city and halted outside the walls. Three hundred white horsemen dismounted, laid their weapons at their own feet, and knelt in a thick circle around their captain as he led the morning communion.

“There is but
One God
, all powerful and all merciful,” the captain said. “In the name of
Ekadeva
, we pray. Dear God, please grant us the strength to prevail in arms against our foes, as well as the good fortune to return to our loved ones when the battle is done. We are forever your loyal servants. May any who die in your service this day ascend to your magnificent heaven and reside with you in eternal bliss. So shall it be.”

“So shall it be,” the horsemen responded.

They mounted their destriers and followed their captain along the west bank of Cariya, one of fifteen squadrons assigned to patrol the Green Plains. Their orders were to follow the river for ten leagues to the southern border of Dhutanga and explore the outskirts of the forest. If they encountered the enemy, they were to return to the city in haste. Therefore, they were lightly attired by their standards, wearing only knee-length hauberks over their quilted undergarments, as well as mail leggings and sollerets, all made of a special white iron smelted by the skilled metallurgists of Jivita. They displayed no armorial bearings and wore no helm, allowing their long white hair to flow freely about their shoulders. Their only weapons were two-edged swords and crossbows, discarding the long bows and lances they used more frequently in the open field. Their horses bore no armor, but beneath the high saddles they wore white silks that matched their alabaster coats. The squadron was built for speed, though even then it was formidable by ordinary standards.

Captain Worrins-Julich rode in front with several sergeants. Even before the sun rose over the plain, Julich and his men surveyed the terrain, searching for anything unusual. War was at hand, but the enemy had yet to show itself. Though reports indicated that Mala’s army was on the march, the more immediate threat to Jivita was the druids, the White City’s longtime nemesis. How many were they and when would they attack? No one knew for sure, not even the necromancers in the employ of Queen Rajinii. More disturbingly, the usually reliable mountain eagles, which often were used to spy on the druids, had left the White City several weeks ago and not returned. But despite a lack of information, it was widely believed that the druids were stronger—and angrier—than ever.

Between Jivita and Dhutanga, the river was wide and powerful, though not nearly as tumultuous as it was farther north. Numerous creeks, streams, and fingers wandered beyond its banks, some too deep to cross on horse. Captain Julich and his men encountered one of these and rode westward in search of shallows. But before they reached the ford, they found something else: a canoe, with passengers.

A quarter-mile away, Julich and a dozen of his sergeants dismounted and crept as quietly as they could toward the craft, but their hauberks and leggings scraped and clinked, making enough noise to wake the dead. Even then, the occupants did not stir.

“Perhaps they
are
dead,” Julich said. “Who are these people, and what brought them here? They appear to be dressed in the raiment of Duccarita, but they do not have the feel of pirates. This is indeed a puzzle.”

Then all three sat up at once.

Julich’s sergeants readied their crossbows, but when the largest of the strangers leapt from the craft, the horsemen lowered their weapons and bowed.

Though he was oddly attired, there was no doubt: Lord Torgon, leader of the Tugars, had found his way to Jivita. The long hoped-for miracle had occurred. The great wizard was among them. Blessed be
Ekadeva
, in all his glory.

THOUGH SHE had been in a deep sleep born of exhaustion, Laylah sensed the approach of the white horsemen long before they drew near. She slit her eyelids against the painful rays of the sun and looked at Torg’s face. Elu also stirred.

“Stay still and allow me to greet them,” Torg whispered to both his companions. “These men know me.”

Laylah did as the wizard asked, resting the side of her face against his thick chest. Elu huddled on the bottom of the canoe.

Suddenly Torg sat up, moved her aside and leapt out of the canoe, splashing through knee-deep water to the sandy bank. Laylah watched him approach the white horsemen. To her amazement, they lowered their weapons and knelt before him. Soon after, several hundred others rode up, dismounted and also bowed, placing their weapons at his feet.

“
Maranavidu
! (Death-Knower!)” said one who appeared to be their leader. “Though I am but a child to you, we have met before, several times. I am Worrins-Julich, senior captain of the
Assarohaa
(white horsemen). I rejoice in honoring you. How came you here?”

Torg bowed. “Well met, Captain Julich. Of course I remember you and am pleased to once again be in your presence. My companions and I have journeyed far, and we are weary. But we must ride with you in haste to the White City. I have urgent news for the queen.”

“My stallion shall bear you,” Julich said. “He is ill-tempered with anyone other than me, but I can see in his eyes that he loves you already.”

Torg laughed. “Any mount will do, as long as he or she is large enough to carry both myself and my lady,” the wizard said, gesturing toward Laylah and causing her heart to flutter. “As for my third companion, I ask that he ride with you—for though he is small, he is as stout as any man and is well-deserving of the highest honors the White City can accord. Plus, he is recovering from injuries and is in need of gentle treatment.”

From his knees in the canoe, Elu bowed.

Julich returned it. “It will be as you say, Lord Torgon. Come. Let us make haste.”

They presented Laylah and Torg with Julich’s white destrier, which was as large as any horse Laylah had ever seen. She had heard much about the ways of Jivita, but her first meeting with the white horsemen left her thoroughly impressed. Each man had pale skin, gray eyes, and long white hair that matched the color of his armor. Only their belts, scabbards, and crossbows were other than white. There also were at least twenty women among them, smaller in build but otherwise similar in appearance and attire. Laylah felt as if she had encountered an army of snowmen.

Captain Julich, who now rode with Elu, seemed to read her thoughts. “Believe it or not, we do not melt,” he said with a grin, “even in the middle of summer.”

She smiled. “Your soldiers look as strong as iron. It is an honor to be in your presence. I thank you for treating me so kindly.”

Julich’s face grew serious. “Kindness is the least you deserve, my lady. I would give my life for you, if Lord Torgon but commanded it.”

“There will be enough lives lost in the coming days,” Laylah said. “Please save yours for the battles to come.”

“Wise words,” Julich said. “Lord Torgon, you have chosen well.”

“Without doubt,” Torg said, causing Laylah to blush.

I grow faint if he but looks at me
.

As if in response, the wizard spun in the saddle and smiled at her. “I hear your thoughts, my love, and they fill me with bliss.”

Laylah hugged him from behind. Captain Julich and Elu were grinning at them mischievously.

“What are
you
looking at?” Torg said.

All four of them laughed.

JIVITA HAD LONG been the most heavily populated city in the known world, housing more than a quarter million people, including its ceaseless and magnificent military, which was as well-maintained in peacetime as in war. Now, only Avici had more inhabitants. Jivita also was the wealthiest city in the world, surpassing even the current version of Avici. In the ancient tongue it was called
Jutimantataa
(City of Splendor), and for good reason. Its beauty and extravagance astounded all who experienced it.

Unlike Nissaya, Jivita was not a fortress. The concentric bulwarks of Nissaya were huge and impenetrable, while only a single low wall less than ten cubits tall protected the White City, forming an almost perfect circle around it. The wall was for show more than defense. The city was huge—almost ten leagues in diameter—and the wall was more than thirty leagues in circumference, making it almost impossible to defend properly in many places at once. But the Jivitans weren’t concerned. If the main pitch of the battle were ever to reach the wall, it was likely they were already defeated.

The white horsemen were masters of the open field, which is exactly what surrounded Jivita. The Green Plains, a level expanse of lush grass, wildflowers, and fertile farmland, extended for at least thirty leagues in all directions except the north, where Dhutanga loomed, and even the forest was a full ten leagues distant.

When the city was under attack, the white horsemen didn’t cower within its walls. Instead, they rode out to greet their enemies, and for as long as history had recorded their deeds, they had always prevailed. The horsemen—and their destriers—wore heavy armor, as close to impenetrable as any that existed. They carried lance, axe, and sword, and their archers were proficient either mounted or on foot. In addition, the Jivitans were highly disciplined fighters, attacking from a variety of intricate formations. None could withstand them, not even the black-hearted druids, though they often were greater in number.