Chapter 9
When Jagdish had seen the smoke rising from his estate, fear gripped had his heart. He had urged his mount up the nearest hill and used his spyglass to better see across the fields. When he saw raiders milling about his home, his fear turned into an anger the likes of which he’d never felt before. His daughter was in there.
“Attention!” Jagdish stood in his stirrups and made the hand signals for those too far back to hear his voice. Five hundred weary men rode behind him on exhausted horses, but every head turned his way when they heard his furious shouting. “Raiders ahead!”
“Orders, sir?” one of his risalders immediately called out.
In the seasons that Jagdish had served in the east, he had earned a reputation of being a master tactician who never spent his men’s lives carelessly. His fierce warrior spirit was balanced by careful planning. Of course none of that applied when it was his family being threatened.
“Charge! Kill them all!”
Jagdish didn’t need to wait to see if they would obey him. He knew these men would follow him into the sea to fight the kings of hell. At first he was all by himself, riding hard down the hill and into the fields, but a moment later his men reacted and there came a great thunder of hooves behind him. There was no other sound like it in the world.
It appeared they had already breached the walls. The raiders outside saw them coming. There was no way to miss so many furious horsemen. The Sarnobat outside the walls were drastically outnumbered, and immediately began fleeing, disorganized.
For one moment Jagdish was no longer a commander, but simply a father watching his house be set on fire with family in it. Except he was too much the soldier to lose control of the situation. The fury stayed the same, but it would be a calculated fury.
“Let none escape! Second paltan left. Third paltan right.” He didn’t know if his risalders heard him, caught sight of his hand signals, or if they’d just learned enough from serving him that they guessed his will, but the flanking paltans broke away to cut off the Sarnobat’s escape. Their horses were already tired, but with their homes at stake, his men would ride them to death if necessary and then run the rest of the way on foot.
The distance closed rapidly. From what little he could see it appeared Sarnobat had taken the walls but failed to take the house. Soldiers in Vadal gray were still hurling arrows down from the upper balconies.
He heard their damnable howls and yipping cries, familiar now after several clashes against the warrior caste of the wolf house. The raiders who had been atop the walls were climbing back and whistling for their mounts. The main gate was thrown open and Sarnobat warriors ran through it, desperate to escape. That gave Jagdish some small measure of hope, because if there wasn’t still an effective Vadal resistance inside the estate the raiders would have buttoned up and tried to negotiate their way out with the hostage’s lives.
Please let Pari be safe. Jagdish had served with religious fanatics, but as a Law-abiding man he had no gods. Except in that desperate moment, he begged for aid. It seemed an instinctual thing to do.
Arrows streaked past him, narrowly missing, but he had no concern for his own life. Instead Please let Pari be safe repeated over and over in his mind, like a mantra, as he rode by himself into the fleeing raiders. His men would be there soon, but for a moment it would be Jagdish alone.
Jagdish drew his sword, and the battle was joined.
He rode down an archer, spun about, and slashed a rider from the saddle. Bones crunched beneath hooves. It was a haze of blood and fury as Jagdish laid about him. He parried a sword thrust without thinking, and then had to hang on as his steed reared back in pain as an arrow was embedded in her side. Jagdish crashed to the ground, armor clanking as he rolled through the dirt, but then he sprang immediately back to his feet, just in time to turn aside a descending axe. He pushed into that raider, and did a brutal draw cut through his midsection, spilling guts.
All phonthos had personal bodyguards. Jagdish was no different, though his unexpected one-man charge had left them scurrying to catch up. They arrived a few heartbeats later, and more raiders fell to spear thrusts and hammer blows. Havildar Mohan dismounted and rushed to Jagdish’s side to protect him. The skilled warrior intercepted a raider along the way, bashing his brains out with a spiked mace. Zaheer and Joshi stayed mounted, placing their bodies and their mounts between their leader and the remaining archers.
He didn’t want to be guarded. Now was the time to slaughter these Sarnobat scum in return for this trespass. Only Jagdish had to push his righteous anger aside long enough to be a proper commander. With no more living targets nearby, he surveyed the field, rapidly taking in everything he could. The raiders were outnumbered and running, with pursuit close on their heels. The last knot of resistance were those who had been caught near the main gate with no way out.
Jagdish started toward them. “First paltan on me. To the gate!”
There was nothing to do now but see it through, so he returned to the battle with his conscience free of responsibility.
No one had ever accused Sarnobat of breeding cowards. Trapped, they fought like the snarling wolf upon their flag. They rushed outward, in one last desperate attempt to get away. Only Vadal had far superior numbers, and since Jagdish had personally overseen the training of his men, they had the superior skill. The Vadal troops worked together, half dismounting and rushing forward on foot, while their mounted brothers used their elevation to fire arrows unimpeded into their foes. The last rush wasn’t a haphazard one either, as the Vadal men took a moment to form into a line, then pushed forward as one. As soon as a Sarnobat man stumbled, multiple spears were thrust into him, and any body already lying on the ground wearing the wrong colors got stabbed for good measure.
It was clear who the enemy commander was. While the others only had splashes of red paint on them, this one’s entire face was red, and the upper jaw of a wolf served as the visor for his helm. The Sarnobat officer knew all was lost and tried to take the honorable way out. He spied Jagdish, clearly marked by his bright phontho’s sash and turban, and bellowed a challenge for the two of them to duel, leader against leader.
It was a demand respected by equals, only this dog had come into his house, and Jagdish wasn’t feeling particularly honorable with his baby girl on the other side of that gate, so he pointed and ordered, “Kill that one.”
Bows thrummed and spears were hurled. The Sarnobat leader collapsed in a bloody heap.
Jagdish strode through his gate while his men overwhelmed the remaining Sarnobat there. Some of them threw down their swords and tried to surrender, but Jagdish didn’t pause long enough to see if his men granted them that mercy. That probably depended on if the particular warrior they were trying to surrender to had family inside the estate or not.
“I am Phontho Jagdish and this is my home!” he bellowed.
Inside the courtyard there were only a few Sarnobat left. When they saw the gray-clad line approaching, they put down their weapons and raised empty hands. They were quickly surrounded by Vadal warriors with bloody swords.
“What should we do with them, Phontho?” Mohan asked.
Jagdish looked around. His orchard was littered with bodies. His stables were burning down. The smoke stung his eyes. He almost ordered his men to slit the prisoners’ throats right there, but, even furious, cruelty was not Jagdish’s way. He took a deep breath before saying, “Bind them.”
“Th-thank you, noble warrior,” one of them stammered.
“Don’t thank me yet, scum. If a single hair has been harmed on my daughter’s head you’ll regret my not killing you fast.” Jagdish kept walking toward the mansion. His other bodyguards dismounted and rushed to stay near him. The mansion had been scorched, but not caught fire. It appeared one of the heavy doors had been repeatedly struck by an axe, but the enemy had not breached.
Stepping over bodies, he recognized each of the Vadal dead, warrior and worker both. They’d served him for these last few months, and unlike most masters, Jagdish had taken the time to speak to every single one of them, to learn their names, and to treat them with respect. Workers and house slaves came out from where they had been hiding as they saw him crossing the grounds. Some cheered, but others were still too shocked from the violence they’d just experienced to make a sound.
“Joshi, gather a crew to put out that fire. Zaheer, gather however many fresh horses escaped the stables and get them to the outriders to swap saddles, and then have them run down any stragglers.” It was clear that his bodyguards didn’t want to abandon him in a courtyard that still might be hiding hostiles, but they did as they were told. Jagdish called after them, “And take the hunting dogs from the kennel to track their scent. I don’t want any of these Sarnobat bastards making it back across the border.”
Mohan stuck with him, and Jagdish didn’t try to give his final bodyguard another assignment, because that might cause a revolt.
The damaged door swung open and old Kutty rushed out, splattered with blood, a fresh bandage wrapped around one hand. “You’ve got the best timing in Lok, Master Jagdish! That little pocket clock of yours must be magic.”
“Is Pari alright?”
“She is. Raveena’s got her.”
Jagdish had been so focused since seeing the smoke, that Kutty’s calming words made his knees go wobbly. It was like a great weight lifted from his chest, and he could breathe again. He wanted nothing more than to see his daughter, but duty came first. “What’s your status?”
As the seasoned warrior gave his report, Jagdish cringed when he heard the estimated numbers for the dead and wounded. As he looked over the ruin of his estate, his anger began to grow anew. “How could so many raiders make it all the way here without being spotted by the Mukesh Garrison? Phontho Gotama’s men were supposed to be patrolling the border while I was away.”
“How would I know? Gotama’s a political appointment, so he’s probably a dolt.” Kutty had been promoted, disgraced and demoted, then promoted again, more times than ten regular warriors put together. Such men were usually too honest for their own good, which was why Jagdish had recruited him.
“Gotama will answer for his failure,” Jagdish vowed.
“I sent a runner to Mukesh to get help as soon as your giant friend sensed the raiders coming. Good thing he was here, or we might not have held.”
He’d not seen Karno or Rada among the dead. “Where are my guests?”
Kutty pointed toward the stables, where a group of workers had formed a bucket brigade. Jagdish was surprised to see that Rada was among the line, passing buckets of water along like the rest. The librarian was filthy, with leaves stuck in her hair, and her dress was torn and splattered with blood. That wasn’t very firster of her. She was full of surprises.
“I’m afraid their secret is out, though, Jagdish. The big one had to announce what he was. Not that there’d be any doubt after we watched him best a squad of raiders by himself. I’ve always heard Protectors fight like demons. The tales weren’t exaggerated.”
“Ah…” Jagdish had been dreading the day that he’d have to explain to his Thakoor—who already despised him—why he was sheltering a woman who had fled from his control. “Tell whoever knows Karno’s true status to keep it to themselves.”
“I will, but you know the boys will talk. They always do.”
“They can hold their tongues long enough for my guests to be well on their way before Harta Vadal finds out they were here.” Jagdish paused as Mohan handed him a rag to wipe his sword on. He cleaned the blood, then sheathed the blade. “I must speak to them. Mohan, go to Raveena, and make sure my daughter doesn’t come out until every single inch of this place has been searched for hostiles.”
“If there are any Sarnobat still lurking about, you’d be the better target, Phontho.”
“Let them try.” But when Mohan hesitated, Jagdish sighed. His bodyguards were extremely loyal. It was because he had gathered men who had been on the outs with their caste and given them a chance to regain their honor as warriors, much like Jagdish had done for himself. Redemption was a rare opportunity among their kind, so it was treasured when offered. “Go. That’s an order. The conversation I’m about to have is one that you don’t want to hear. This way when the Thakoor’s men or any Inquisitors ask what was said, you can swear you heard nothing.”
Mohan bowed, then went to check on Pari. Kutty returned to helping with the injured.
Radamantha Nems dar Harban might have been a high-status lady of the first caste, but she was working as hard to stop the fire as anyone else. Jagdish had served in the Personal Guard of Great House Vadal, surrounded by the most important people in the richest house in the world, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d seen a member of the first caste stoop to doing anything that could be vaguely described as manual labor.
The stables were a complete loss, but the fire needed to be controlled to keep it from spreading. Despite their desperate labors, and the fact many of their friends had just been hurt or even killed, the workers greeted Jagdish with joy, for their kind master had saved them. It would break their spirits if they realized that it was his actions that had made them a target. Jagdish had been commanded to provoke the Sarnobat toward war, and he had been so successful that his name had become infamous and despised within the house of the wolf. Of course they had struck at his home while he was away…
The intense heat of the fire matched his mood.
The librarian’s clothing was damp. Her fine silks had been torn, and it looked like she had rolled in mud. There was a nasty, bleeding welt on her temple, and yet she kept on passing buckets, clearly struggling against the weight and tired arms, but trying hard not to spill any precious droplets that could be better used to quench the flames.
Karno, meanwhile, was sitting on a log, one hand pressed against his bloody side. There was an arrow next to him, and from the gory look of the thing, it had been recently plucked from his guts. Jagdish stopped next to him. “I would ask if you’re going to live, but I’ve seen Ashok survive far worse.”
“Being wounded provides me an excuse to shirk firefighting duty,” Karno replied flatly.
“I’m told my household is in your gratitude. You saw them coming long before our lookouts would have, giving my men time to prepare, then stacked quite the pile of raider corpses yourself.”
“I was doing my duty.”
“Were you now? It seems what it means to uphold the Law isn’t as clear as it used to be.”
Karno’s only response to that was a bemused grunt, because it wasn’t every day that one of the ultimate enforcers of the Law was forced to hide from the Law’s Inquisitors.
“I was already in Rada’s debt. Now I’m in yours as well, Karno Uttara.”
“There is no debt. You risked your status by sheltering us. Now it is time for us to leave.”
“We must speak before you do. While I was away I’ve heard rumors from the south.”
His warriors were rushing over and forming a second bucket line, so Jagdish, honored phontho, war leader, recipient of the highest award for valor in Vadal’s warrior caste, and master of the estate, got in line to help.