Chapter 2
The next morning, Ashok sensed demon in the air.
That was unlikely, for he was a long way from hell. It was true that demons would sometimes travel far inland, swimming up a river, but they were several days’ journey from any water deep enough to conceal a demon.
Demonic flesh and bone were infused with magic, but Ashok had no gift for sensing the presence of magic, like his old sword master, Ratul, or the tracker Gutch. They had no smell. They rarely made a sound. Neither the black steel blade at his side, nor the shard buried in his heart, were sending him any sort of warning of impending danger yet.
Except a sea demon had a certain presence about them, a sort of dangerous energy that made the hairs on your neck stand up. That feeling of danger was on the desert wind. It reminded him too much of the ocean.
Before breaking camp, Ashok took his armor from Horse’s pack and dressed for battle. Traveling in armor was uncomfortable, and might draw unwanted attention, but he had not survived this long by denying his instincts.
Ashok rode westward through a land of pale sand and flat red rocks. Settlements of any size were scarce in this rugged region and even rarer away the trade roads that he had been purposefully avoiding. He was a wanted criminal, but was weary of fighting warriors who were simply trying to fulfill their duty. He had killed enough honorable men already.
The bits of civilization he had come across in this part of the desert had been isolated worker-caste settlements. Armed with the stack of Capitol bank notes he had taken from the Cove, he was able to trade his money for their supplies. Ashok had never had much use or understanding of money, for that was the way of the worker caste, but he got by. The workers didn’t care if he had the proper traveling papers or if he had an official reason to be in these lands. They only cared if his notes were real. And the workers would hold them up to the sun, squinting, to make sure the seal of the Capitol Bank wasn’t some forgery. This was a far different manner of traveling across the continent from when he’d been a Protector and could simply claim whatever resources he required along the way. People didn’t like having their property confiscated without compensation, but back then Ashok hadn’t cared. He’d been a Protector. What was the discomfort of the lower castes when compared to preserving the sanctity of the Law?
As a criminal he could simply taken whatever he wanted from them. After all, that was what criminals did when the forces of the Law were absent. But Ashok would never lower himself to such barbarity. He had forsaken the Capitol, but he wasn’t the villain they portrayed him to be. Even a man bereft of Law could maintain a code, and from what he’d seen since joining a rebellion, those without the Law were often far more honorable that the judges in the Capitol.
He spied a workers’ settlement in the distance, consisting of perhaps a dozen small homes made from stacked stones, some conical buildings of unknown purpose, corrals for livestock, and coops for chickens. This discovery was fortunate, as his canteens were empty and he’d run out of rations two days ago. He’d let Horse drink all the water from the last seep they’d found. Forage was scarce here, and time spent hunting was time spent not finding Thera. His stomach ached and his limbs felt heavy.
Except Ashok wasn’t fool enough to risk his mission over something as trivial as dehydration or hunger—he had once proven he could starve for a year and not die—so before approaching the settlement, he called upon the Heart of the Mountain to sharpen his senses in order to check for any potential threats.
First he strengthened his eyes. As the distant shapes became clear he was disappointed to see a single banner of the warrior caste flying there. It was a white flag with black mountains upon it. Devakulans. They were a stubborn, dour people, but produced hardy fighters who would surely be too prideful to let a criminal pass without a fight.
That was disappointing, as he would have to go around and remain hungry a bit longer. Horse would be angry at him, but Horse could graze on the desert scrub grass enough to live. Besides, Horse was always angry.
Then Ashok turned the Heart of the Mountain’s magic from his eyes, toward his ears. As his vision returned to normal, his hearing became incredibly sensitive.
Screams of terror.
Switching back to the vision of a hawk and scanning the sands around the village, he noticed distant figures running for their lives from a misshapen black shadow.
Demon.
“Trespass,” Ashok growled.
When a sea demon went on a rampage, it would range up and down a coastline for weeks at a time, killing until it ran out of things to kill, gorging itself on bodies until it needed to vomit them back up so that it could make room to eat more, and stopping only when its bloodlust was sated enough to return to hell, or it was killed. A violent response was mandatory, for their presence was an affront to the Law.
Except enforcing that Law was no longer Ashok’s place.
Every warrior in that village was obligated to kill him on sight. The workers would be happy to take his bank notes, and then even happier to inform the Inquisition about his location afterward in order to collect a reward, conveniently leaving out the part where they’d aided a known criminal. These warriors had likely been the ones to put the local casteless to the sword and these workers had probably done nothing to stop them. Why should they? After all, they were only obeying the Law. Ashok owed them nothing. He was a Protector no more. Why should he risk his life for people who’d see his rebellion crushed, his friends murdered, and his woman executed for witchcraft?
That hesitation lasted less than the span of two steady heartbeats.
“Go, Horse!”
Horse didn’t understand what was happening, but he always sensed when Ashok decided it was time to fight, and the eager beast never needed encouragement to run. Horse galloped toward the danger.
Warriors never used cavalry against demons, for no animal would willingly approach a sea demon, no matter how brave it was. Even war elephants panicked when they saw one of the soldiers of hell. Ashok suspected Horse might actually be the one animal in Lok confrontational enough to be the exception to that rule, but he couldn’t risk losing control of his mount once Horse smelled what they were running toward. So a hundred yards from the edge of the village, Ashok leapt from the saddle and landed in the sand.
Keeping his sword sheathed, he sprinted toward the sounds of battle. Better to not let the demon comprehend the danger it faced until it was too late. Within the narrow tangle of homes there was only space sufficient for narrow footpaths. Fleeing workers crashed into him because their eyes were fixed on the danger behind them. Ashok shoved them aside and kept moving. He passed children who were crying for their mothers and panicking animals desperately trying to escape their pens. He heard a warrior bellowing orders, followed by the thud of steel against nearly impenetrable hide. That would be his target, and Ashok ran toward it as fast as he could.
There was an open area in the center of the homes. In the middle was a stone well. Across the sandy clearing were strewn the dead and dying, worker and warrior both. Arms and legs and heads had been ripped off. Torsos were missing big chunks from savage bites. Blood was dripping down the walls. All of this terrible brutality had occurred over the span of only a few minutes.
Such was the way of demons.
The stone wall of the home next to him came apart as a warrior was violently hurled through it. Through the cloud of swirling dust, Ashok spotted his foe. Demons came in all shapes and sizes. This one was shorter than the others he’d fought, barely a match to Ashok’s imposing height, yet it was abnormally wide shouldered, with a chest big as an ox, stumpy legs solid as tree trunks, and thick arms that dangled nearly to the sand. Like all the others he’d fought, though, its hide was sleek and black.
The demon was turned away from him, occupied fighting six desperate warriors. Their thrusts bounced harmlessly off its skin. With an arm as long as their spear shafts, it swatted one of the warriors down, then lunged forward to stomp one wide, flat foot down on his helmet. The warrior’s head popped like stepping on a grape.
Ashok drew his sword.
The demon turned his way. Like the others Ashok had encountered, this one had a featureless lump of a head, so broad its skull seemed to melt into its vast shoulders, almost as if it had no head at all. Demons possessed no eyes, yet they could still see somehow. It had a single wide line for a mouth, which slowly opened, far too wide, to reveal rows of black razor teeth.
The creature must have sensed the danger in his sword. Demon and black steel—two conflicting forces that could not exist in the same place. The presence of one meant the other had to be destroyed.
It stood perfectly still, studying Ashok for a moment, as the brave Devakulans continued to futilely stab it in the back. In addition to being unrelenting instruments of destruction, demons were also nearly immune to mortal weapons. Even with the finest steel, only the luckiest of hits from the strongest arm had any chance of piercing their incredibly tough hide…
None of that concerned Ashok. “Retreat, warriors,” he ordered with the voice of a man used to being in command. “Get these people to safety. Leave this thing to me.”
The sudden lull took the Devakulan warriors by surprise. They had no idea who the man in the mismatched armor was, to tell them what to do, nor did they understand why his presence had so fully captured the demon’s attention that it had temporarily stopped slaughtering them, but Ashok hoped they would be smart enough to take advantage of the distraction he was providing to flee.
“I am Ashok Vadal, and I will deal with this soldier of hell.”
Everyone in the world knew his name. The frightened warriors did as they were told, grabbed up their wounded brethren, and scurried away.
The demon remained standing there, unmoved. Ashok’s name must not have been as well known beneath the ocean as it was on land. Thus, he would educate this creature before he killed it.
“I am the bearer of Angruvadal reborn.” He held up the ancestor blade he had seized from Bharatas of Akershan to show the demon the method of its death. The length of black steel seemed to devour the sunlight, so dark it was like a slice had been cut out of the world. “Offense has been taken.”
The demon started toward him, eager to fight.
Ashok met the creature armed with the combined instincts from forty generations of bearers of two ancestor blades.
One huge arm whistled through the air. The fist on the end would have hit like a war hammer…if he’d still been there. Ashok intercepted the arm with his blade as he ducked beneath. Green sparks flew from the demon hide. Ashok pulled through the cut. Milk-white blood splashed across the sand.
It was nearly impossible for even the finest steel to pierce a demon’s hide, but Angruvadal was far sharper than normal steel. Black steel neither chipped nor dulled. It devoured. The demon’s eyeless head-lump turned to examine the deep laceration in its forearm. Could demons be surprised? Ashok didn’t know. If so, this one was.
“Years ago, in Gujara, I fought two of your kind at once. Even armed with Angruvadal, it was a difficult battle. I barely survived.”
It attacked him again, so fast that no mortal man should have been able to dodge. Except Ashok stepped out of the way as that mighty fist flashed past his helmet, and with a flick of his wrist, he sliced the demon’s other arm open.
“That Angruvadal shattered as I used it to slay a hybrid of man and demon.”
The demon charged, trying to run him down. They were of similar height, but demons were so dense it easily doubled Ashok’s weight. He whirled around the attack and thrust Angruvadal into the passing demon’s back, piercing it deep.
He wrenched his blade free in a spray of white.
The demon stumbled.
Now it was fully aware that this was no normal foe.
They circled.
“A shard of that broken sword remains buried in my chest. It should have killed me. It did not. In the years since it has changed me. Strengthened me. It helped me to defeat five of you in the House of Assassins.”
The demon wore no expression, so he didn’t know if it was understanding his words or not. He was compelled to tell it anyway, not to boast to a thing he intended to slay, but it was Thera’s belief that demons somehow spoke to each other, mind to mind. His message wasn’t for this demon, but for all the rest who might be listening.
“I am far more than I was before. Now that I have retrieved my sword, one of your kind is nothing to me.”
Ashok went on the offense, thrusting for its chest. The demon darted to the side, incredibly fast, but Ashok still pierced it. Then immediately he shifted back to block its counterattack with Angruvadal’s edge. It was like chopping wood by holding up an ax and letting someone swing a log at you.
Ashok stepped aside, unharmed.
The demon’s severed hand hit the sand and lay there, fingers twitching.
“This particular demon will die here now, but it is my hope the rest of you will somehow witness this death and understand.”
With both long arms suddenly crippled, the demon made one last desperate push, ducking forward, its snapping jaws aimed for Ashok’s face. Strengthening his arms with the Heart of the Mountain, he intercepted it with a terrible downward slash, slicing through the demon’s open mouth, and across its broad chest, hard enough to split ribs. Even with an ancestor blade and superhuman strength, only a perfect cut could wound a demon so deep. Ashok sidestepped the beast as it passed and struck it again, low in the back. Angruvadal cleaved through the base of its spine.
“Let it be known, trespass will not be tolerated.”
The demon lurched to the side, and crashed into a poor worker’s house, breaking through the walls, and collapsing the entire thing down around it. It disappeared in a pile of falling rocks, clay shingles, and obscuring dust.
Ashok took a deep breath, and waited, listening for other threats.
Animals and people were crying, but it was from the residue of fear, not the fresh terror of witnessing or experiencing violence as it unfolded. Ashok had a trained ear for such distinctions. It appeared this particular demon had been raiding alone.
In a testament to the courage of the Devakulan warrior caste, after their wounded had been carried to safety, four men rushed back into the village center, ready to fight once more. They’d returned to their obligation despite facing certain death, just to buy more time for the villagers to escape. Ashok respected that.
“Where is it?” one of them gasped. “Where’d it go?”
He pointed toward the broken house. “Beneath there. Dying.”
They were clearly too stunned to believe him. But then the rubble shifted, and all the wide-eyed warriors turned their spears that direction.
Surprisingly, the demon wasn’t dead yet, proving that the soldiers of hell were incredibly resilient. The debris fell away as the wounded creature struggled free. Ashok was ready to continue their battle, only the thing appeared to be done for. Mortally wounded, it dragged itself slowly across the sand, stubby legs limp and unresponsive, leaving a wide white trail behind as its strange white blood gushed out into the sand.
It was trying to escape…but they had to be miles away from the nearest stream big enough to conceal a demon. Ashok followed the crippled thing, curious as to where it thought it would be able to hide from his wrath?
The demon was crawling toward the well.
That couldn’t be.
Ashok gestured toward the circle of stones with his sword. “Did this demon come from down there?”
“It did, sir,” one of the warriors answered. “Crawled up outta nowhere sudden like and started ripping into people. We had no warning. No warning at all.”
A splintered bucket and frayed rope were still lying on the ground. The small roof had been broken, probably as the thick beast had levered itself free. The well’s opening was barely bigger around than the demon. Ashok could scarcely imagine the reaction of the poor workers who had been drawing their water when this thing had come scrambling up out of the dark. Their shock had probably not lasted for long.
The demon got its one remaining hand onto the stones and began pulling itself up. It would fall into the depths, to hide and heal, and eventually return to kill again. That, Ashok would not allow, so he closed swiftly, raised Angruvadal, and cleanly smote off the top of the demon’s skull. The body flopped over as the contents of its head spilled out.
He walked to the edge and looked down. The well was deep and dark, and even his unnatural eyes couldn’t make out what was at the bottom. In all his experience, and in his Protector training, he had never heard of a demon coming up a well before. Rivers, yes. But the deep waters drawn from the ground itself? Never. He picked up a stone and dropped it in. There was a long pause before the distant splash.
“How far down did they dig this?” he demanded.
The warriors were still catching their breath and staring in awe at the dead thing that had torn through their unit as if it had been nothing. The eldest among them was barely more than a boy, and he had to shake himself from a stupor to answer Ashok’s question. “I got no idea, sir.”
Ashok wasn’t in his chain of command. In fact, he was a wanted criminal. However, he had just killed a demon in front of them, so the warriors reflexively applied the honorific.
“That well’s been here since my grandfather patrolled this desert,” said another warrior. “Always been good to drink, but it got tasting odd just this last week.”
“What do you mean, ‘odd’?”
“Salty. Foul. We’d no idea it was because there was a demon living at the bottom! Wonder how long it was hiding down there?”
These poor warriors were too simple to grasp how dire this development was. They had no comprehension of the ancient world that existed below this one, of the massive tunnel system that stretched beneath the isle of Fortress and all the mainland, or that parts of it had been broken into and flooded by the sea.
“I must speak to your commanding officer immediately.”
“It swatted our havildar’s head off and it flew out into the desert somewhere.”
“One of your senior nayaks, then.”
The brave survivors looked at each other. One shrugged. They were amazed that they were still alive. In such a chaotic situation it was difficult to keep track of everyone else.
“I think that’s part of Nayak Nadim over there.” When that warrior finally noticed the unnatural nature of the sword in Ashok’s hand—a blade so dark it seemed to devour the sunlight around it—it must have brought to recollection the words Ashok had announced upon his arrival. “You…You’re really the Black Heart?”
“I am,” the most infamous criminal in the world told them. “Will this be an issue?”
“But you’re dead. Killed at the hands of Devedas!”
His brother had certainly tried, and would have succeeded, if the shard of Angruvadal hadn’t had more use for him and kept him alive as his body had floated across the icy sea. “I have returned. This sword and that dead demon should prove to you I speak the truth. Do you intend to try and capture me, then?”
They may have still been in shock from facing a demon, but thankfully none of them were foolish enough to challenge the man who had just defeated the creature that had easily slaughtered all of their comrades. A legend had just dispatched a demon. What were four tired warriors supposed to do about that?
“You saved our lives. We were good as dead.”
“Then offense has been…postponed,” Ashok suggested.
The warriors collectively breathed a sigh of relief. When they were all in agreement of truce, Ashok sheathed Angruvadal. There was no need to clean the demon blood from it first because such impurities never managed to cling to black steel. His mismatched armor, on the other hand, had been splattered with the vile white liquid.
“You must send word to the Protector Order. Tell them of this attack, and my warning that demons may be burrowing under our very feet, using tunnels the ancients built beneath Lok and the ocean. If demons have broken in and flooded some of those, turning them into arteries of the sea, they will be able to travel inland with impunity. Nowhere will be safe.”
“We’ll ride for Akara as soon as we can,” one declared.
“There are Protectors there?”
“Yes, sir. Searching for the rebels who…” Then that poor warrior trailed off as he must have realized exactly who he was speaking with.
“Rebels who did what?”
The warriors shared a nervous glance, as if they’d just survived a sea demon, only to draw the fury of another, even more dangerous killer. One of them swallowed hard, before managing to spit out, “The Sons of the Black Sword collapsed part of the Capitol aqueduct, then defeated our army that chased them into the Sanjit Ravine.”
“Really?” Ashok had known that Thera had led the Sons out of the Cove on some kind of secret mission, but he’d not expected an attack so audacious. “The Sons actually destroyed one of the great works of Lok?”
“They did. A span of it is ruined. The first have commanded it be repaired, but that could take years.”
The Capitol had to be furious at mere rebels stealing their water. The first caste didn’t like to be reminded that they, too, were vulnerable. The Sons had certainly been busy while he had been gone! “Where are they now?”
The warrior seemed confused how the man he’d been told was leading the rebels didn’t know where those rebels were. “Uh…That’s why our paltan was patrolling. They vanished into the desert with their murderous Fortress rods. We were told they’ve got to be wintering somewhere in the borderlands.”
Ashok had just come from the southeast, and the snow had made that route extremely difficult. Surely he would have seen sign of the Sons’ passage. Westward into Makao would be nearly impassable until the spring thaw. Going north would have taken them closer to the Capitol and the might of the Law. If what this warrior was saying was accurate, Ashok had allies hidden somewhere in the region.
“We’ll gladly stop looking for your friends,” a different soldier added helpfully.
“That would be wise. Warning your Thakoor and the Protector Order of this demon incursion is more important. You have no time to chase rebels or murder helpless casteless when such an important message needs to be delivered. No one will question your honor over abandoning your obligation, when a more pressing one arises.” Ashok waited to make sure they all nodded in agreement. Good. It took incredible courage to fight a demon. Even though he might have to kill them tomorrow, he was glad his timely intervention had saved them today. Ending such honorable lives would sadden him, but that was the nature of rebellion.