Chapter 40
Days later, after the ashes were cold, Ashok summoned the leadership of the Sons of the Black Sword to meet on a hilltop overlooking their camp. It was time to move on.
Over half the Sons had perished in the battle, but, having been temporarily gifted with Defender might, some of his officers had survived. Shekar Somsak had been crushed to death beneath the feet of a giant but had blown it to pieces with a Fortress bomb. The remaining Somsak raiders were already planning their tattoos to commemorate being witnesses to that incredible act of valor. Shekar had died as he had lived, a malicious, loyal, clever maniac.
No one would have mourned the loss of Shekar more than Gupta, for even though the workers of Jharlang had long been terrorized by the vicious Somsak, the two had joined the Sons at the same time and become brothers, united by their faith. But Gupta had been killed during the demons’ final, desperate attempt to escape. He had fired until his weapons were too hot, and then he’d used that rod as a club, fighting with as much courage as any warrior of legend.
The faithful would tell stories of their bravery for generations.
Toramana, Ongud, and Eklavya were all who remained of his commanders, and Eklavya had nearly succumbed to his injuries. The second Heart had barely had enough time to mend the worst of his wounds before it had been consumed to fuel and spread the Voice’s plague. The young warrior was still in a great deal of pain as he was helped up the hill, but the wizard Laxmi refused to leave Eklavya’s side. The devotion the two had for each other was plain for all to see, and that small thing made Ashok happy.
Though Javed was their Keeper of Names, Ashok had requested that the priest not be among them for this meeting, but to remain nearby to be summoned. Despite Toramana being present and knowing that his purpose had been fulfilled, and that he would most likely not leave this meeting alive, the priest had still come as ordered. Javed waited a short way down the hill, praying.
To represent Fortress, Ashok had asked for Envoy Praseeda Jaehnig, the monk Lama Taksha, and Collector Yajic Kapoor. Though their alchemy had not been nearly as effective against demons as it had been against the Capitol’s soldiers, the foreigners had fought with honor, and earned the respect of all the Sons.
Last of all, his council had been joined by Jagdish and Gutch, whom Ashok had not called for, but if anyone had earned a place among the Sons, it was their first risalder and the smuggler who had proven to be their most loyal friend.
“How did you hear about this?” Ashok asked as those two came strolling up the hill.
Jagdish had left behind his extravagant phontho’s uniform, probably the better to pass through the city without being slowed down by the fawning adoration of the people he had saved, and was instead dressed as a humble border scout. “Word in the court is the Sons are pulling up stakes and moving out. I couldn’t hardly let you go without saying goodbye, now could I?”
Ashok bowed respectfully. “I would have sought you out. We have been through too much together to not do so.”
Jagdish returned the bow. “You honor me, Ashok.”
In contrast to Jagdish’s humility, Gutch wore the most opulent robes Ashok had ever seen outside of the Capitol, and also had a shiny new chain about his neck with a bronze medal that marked him as a hero of Vadal. “I myself took a break from the organized harvesting of ten thousand tons of demon bone to see you off, General.”
“Sounds like rigorous labor.”
Gutch grinned. “Oh, I’m too important to use a saw! Due to my expertise in demonic anatomy and the shipment thereof, I have managed to get myself appointed to a position in the management of this great endeavor…and I’ve come to inform you that the bounty will be shared with every house in direct proportion to how many men they sent to the fight.”
Ashok nodded, for it was wise of Vadal to share such incredible wealth with those who’d had the courage to come here and defend their city. “It is not often the Vadal are so generous.”
“It was my idea,” Jagdish said. “Sold as an attempt to avoid future conflicts, but Harta’s son is no fool. We’ve had enough wars caused by envy lately that even my caste yearns for a time of peace. This reward includes the Sons. You’ve got your own wizards and are a house in all but name.”
“This gratitude is appreciated.”
“I insisted on it. Just let me know where to send the caravan once it is all done being counted and allocated.”
“Send it to the Cove,” Ashok said, which answered the question that everyone present must have had concerning where they would be going next.
“We’re going home!” Ongud couldn’t hide the relief in his voice, for he had a young family waiting for him there. “Thank the gods, we’re finally going home.”
“Some of us are,” Ashok replied. “Everyone, sit. I must speak.”
They rested in a circle upon the yellow grass. The view was such that the vastness of Vadal City was laid out below them. Portions of it had burned, but the Vadal were industrious, and would surely rebuild, better than before. Even the Martaban was whole once more.
“I am not one for moving speeches. That was Keta’s specialty.” When Ashok said that, everyone who had known Keta laughed. “I will keep it simple. It has been an honor to serve with you. You have made me very proud.”
Such praise, coming from legendary Ashok, humbled them all.
“Thera dreamed of making for ourselves an independent house, a place for the unwanted. A place where those outside the existing Law could make their own rules and live by those rules in peace. A place without castes. A place where the faithful could worship openly, without fear. Devedas gave us an opportunity no other ruler would have. The courage shown by the Sons has made the great houses respect us. Now is the time to see Thera’s dream fulfilled.”
“Hear, hear!” Ongud shouted. “The Cove lies within Akershan. As long as Ashok bears their sword, my old masters won’t dare to move against us.”
“I am not going with you. My obligation is not done.”
The Sons grew restless at that. “What do you mean?” Toramana asked. “You did all the Voice has asked of you.”
Ashok was not doing this for the Voice, but for the woman who had carried it. “The leadership of the Sons falls to this council to decide, as it truly already has for a very long time. You do not need me. I am barely a leader in war. I was not made for peace. But you are correct, Ongud. I told the army of Akershan if they wanted their sword back, they would leave our lands alone, and allow safe passage for the casteless to get there. It seems they have honored this bargain. So I will return this sword to Great House Akershan.”
Giving up the ancestor blade was inconceivable to them. “No, General. Please. The threat of losing their sword is the only thing ensuring our safety.”
“You are astute, Ongud. You have always been the Sons’ finest tactician.”
“Thank you, but it doesn’t take a prophet to see into the future. Our lands are surrounded by Akershan’s mountains. They might tolerate our presence for now, but what about their next Thakoor? Or the one after that? What happens when they forget the kindness of your giving their sword back, and decide the faithful have no place in their lands?”
“Then earn that place. I fought Bharatas for this ancestor blade. Outside of duels, when a sword chooses a new bearer, it is usually from the same house, but sometimes it goes to a vassal.” Ashok unbuckled his sword belt and held out sheathed Angruvadal, that had once been Akerselem. “Ongud Khedekar dar Akershan, I offer this to you.”
Ongud stared at the deadly weapon. “I’m not worthy.”
“That is for the sword to decide. If it allows you to wield it, then you will be in a position to ensure the future of the Cove. Akershan would get their sword back, only it would be in the hands of one of the faithful. Bearers command respect. Show Akershan the faithful make for better allies than occupiers, and secure the future Thera’s house.”
It was a lot for the young warrior to take in. “And if the sword disagrees?”
“Then it will hurt you.” Ashok placed Angruvadal on the ground in front of Ongud, who stared at it like it was a viper about to strike. “Take your time. It will wait.”
Losing an ancestor blade was like losing part of yourself, but Ashok had done it before, and this was no longer that. With the shard of Angruvadal in his heart, he had become his sword, and his sword had become him. Angruvadal had made him a weapon of the gods. Thera had taught him how to be human. He knew which loss hurt more.
The only hybrid of black steel and man to ever live looked toward Jagdish. “Unless you wish to try to claim a sword? You did before.”
Jagdish mulled that temptation over for a time, as if carefully choosing his words. “A few years ago, I wanted nothing more in the world than to try for that honor. By the time we hunted you down, Angruvadal had broken. So I didn’t get to find out if I was worthy. Then I went to war with Sarnobat, then Vokkan, trying to claim what belonged to another house, and still the opportunity never presented itself…Now?”
Ongud watched Jagdish closely, still reeling at the honor and danger he had just been offered, and seemingly unsure if they were about to duel over an ancestor blade or not.
However, Jagdish shrugged. “Eh. I don’t think that’s supposed to be my fate. My house is safe. I’ve claimed enough glory for myself to last ten lifetimes. All I desire now is to return to my estate, love my wife, and raise my daughter. I’d prefer not to be required to fight a duel against every warrior in Lok with a chip on his shoulder.”
“It’s a good thing you left Najmul home,” Gutch said. “He’d have certainly dueled Ongud for it.”
“Oh, absolutely, guaranteed,” Jagdish agreed. “I’ll be sure not to tell him until long after you have all left. Carry on, warrior. And if the sword lets you bear it, all I ask is that you treat the Sons as I did.”
“I will, sir,” Ongud promised. “A leader serves.”
“Good, lad.” Jagdish looked toward Ashok. “What are you moping about for? You’ve still got a spare.”
“This is not mine.” Ashok held out sheathed Khartalvar and turned it over in his hands, as if to study it, to truly feel the weight of such a thing. “Devedas showed the world who he really was when he took this up to fight for his people…but it belongs to Kharsawan, who has done us no harm. That house should not be robbed for their bearer heeding the call.”
“If I may…” Eklavya grimaced as he spoke, for there were a great many stitches holding his wounds closed, and deprived of the Heart’s magic, his recovery would take weeks. “That’s my old house. I once served in the same infantry paltan as family members of bearer Tejeshwar. I can make sure that it’s returned to them.”
“They branded you a criminal for religion, and you would still help them despite that?” Envoy Praseeda was incredulous. “You mainlanders astound me.”
“As Fortress has its guilds, our house and caste define us here, even long after we’ve forsaken them. But Ashok is right. That sword rightfully belongs to Great House Kharsawan. They condemned me and my friends for believing in the gods, because they believe in the Law. We are all governed by the codes we hold.”
In Ashok’s absence, Eklavya had been the one to keep the Sons organized and united. After Ongud had made the plans, Eklavya had been the one to execute them from the front. He’d commanded the Sons in many battles, never hesitating to risk his life for any of the others. Despite receiving what should have been mortal wounds he had still led the charge to drive the demons back into the river. And off the battlefield, his kindness had earned him the love of a gentle slave turned fearsome wizard. Ashok knew ancestor blades better than anyone, and if Khartalvar thought Eklavya wasn’t worthy, then no one was.
“Return it…” Ashok set Khartalvar down in front of their red warrior. “Or bear it yourself, Eklavya, and claim as your reward for not overthrowing your Thakoor the unsettled lands around the Nansakar to get room for the house of Thera to grow. Protect both houses, and that will show your old house who the fanatics they once condemned really are.”
Eklavya seemed nearly overcome by emotion at that suggestion. “Do you think this is the will of the gods?”
“I am the Forgotten’s Warrior, not his Voice. I do not know. But that is what I want.”
“You honor me, sir.”
Jagdish let out a low whistle. “Oceans, Ashok. Two neighboring houses’ bearers defending the faithful house locked between their borders…That’s politics clever enough that Shakti would be impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Ongud addressed Eklavya. “That would be quite the thing, wouldn’t it?”
“That it would, brother,” Eklavya agreed. “Or this black steel might take our hands for asking.”
“Shekar would call you both cowards if you didn’t try,” Laxmi declared in support of her man.
“Then we do this for him,” Ongud said. “And Gupta, and every other Son of the Black Sword who laid down their lives on our quest for freedom.”
“For our people, for our gods,” Eklavya stated with grim determination. “Let’s do this.”
The two warriors prepared to take up the judgmental swords. If Ashok was right about the character of these men, then the vision of Thera and Keta would be safe for another generation. But the will of black steel was often inscrutable, and if he was wrong about them, then their blood would water the grass. This attempt would end in triumph or tragedy.
Just in case it helped, Ashok made a silent request to the swords. I have given you much. Allow me this.
“Step back, just in case there’s flailing,” Eklavya warned Laxmi, more worried about her safety than his own.
Two fearsome swords were grasped, drawn free, and then held out in trembling hands. Both warriors winced as the grips bit their palms and the black steel tasted their blood. Every observer except Ashok held their breath. He alone understood what they were going through, as their lives flashed before their eyes. Every flaw, mistake, failure, and desire was observed, calculated, and weighed against their current worth and their potential for both good and evil in the future.
Ashok noted that in the distance, Javed also watched, for he too understood this process. He and Ashok were the only bearers to ever willingly give up an ancestor blade. What did that make them? He did not know. Long ago, Ramrowan had set the swords working toward a purpose beyond mortal understanding, and they had done their duty without hesitation or remorse. Long after their first bearers had turned to dust, the swords remained. Ramrowan’s mission was done. The swords’ purpose now? A mystery.
A few terrifying moments passed, and when the swords didn’t force them to cut themselves, the Sons began to smile, for it appeared that Ashok had chosen well.
Then an understanding came upon Ashok that securing the Cove was Angruvadal’s way of paying its respects to Thera.
He pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head. Thank you, Angruvadal.
Ongud and Eklavya were unharmed, but both appeared ready to topple over from the stress of the judgement. Sweat was pouring down their faces. Eklavya could barely move as it was.
“Well done, warriors. Sheath those blades before you hurt anyone. They’re a bit sharper than what you are used to.”
“Najmul would especially go after the crippled one before he could heal up,” Gutch whispered to Jagdish. “Wolves do that, you know, targeting the sick and the weak.”
“I’ll be sure to send him off on some distant mission in the opposite direction,” Jagdish responded.
Toramana spoke up. “I am overjoyed for my brothers, General, for I have no doubt they’ll keep my people safe. I know there’s no magic sword for me, but I have asked you for one small thing. Is this the time?”
“I have not forgotten, Chief. The two of us will deal with that at the end.”
Toramana dipped his head in respect. “Very well.”
Ashok turned to the Fortress folk, who seemed baffled by what had just happened, for they did not have ancestor blades on their island, and their customs were very different there. “Envoy, Lama, and Collector, your help was invaluable against first man then demon. Our battle is done, so I release you from your obligation. As agreed, you can take as much treasure back through the underworld as you can carry.”
Collector Yajic rubbed his hands together with glee. “There are so many pretty things to choose from.”
“The Weapons Guild was honored to serve you, Ram Ashok,” Envoy Praseeda said. “I will return to the workshop and tell the council of our new friendship with the mainland. I’m sure we will both profit from future trade between our island and your Cove.”
Gutch perked up at that. “Trade now, huh? I rather enjoy facilitating trade. Before you go, the two of us should talk.”
“I am amenable to this, Forge Master Smith.”
“You know, Envoy, steel and wood are heavy and I hear your underground paths are treacherous. If the demons are truly gone, we could maybe even build a boat, like they supposedly had back in the old days, like a great big barge, but instead of rivers, made to cross the sea.”
Ashok could only wonder at what manner of terrible illegalities would result from that conversation, but that was no longer his concern. “Tell Guru Dondrub that the prophecy written in metal is fulfilled.”
“But all is not yet decided, Ram Ashok!” the Fortress monk exclaimed. “Of the six opposing forces, only one can determine the direction of the next age. Prophet, priest, and king defeated the mask and demon, and the Forgotten’s Warrior, clearly, is the victor. Yet two remain. Who shall I tell the Guru will decide?”
Ashok doubted very much that their priest would be around much longer, but that was up to Toramana. “I was made to protect. Not rule.”
“But the will of the gods—”
“Is not mine,” Ashok told the monk. “I would not be Omand, to rule with blood and fire. I am not even Devedas, thinking I am capable of deciding what is best for all. I hold no illusion that I am anything more than I am. What I did on behalf of the Law took so many lives. To ask Black-Hearted Ashok to judge the world would be to trade one tyrant for another, for eventually I might become just as cruel and unforgiving as I was created to be. So I will not rule. Let the people figure out how to rule themselves and I will leave them to it.”
“And if left on their own, those leaders choose to do great evil?”
He had never cared for the Fortress monk’s strange philosophical games. “Then I would correct them.”
The monk gave him that peculiar hand-clasped bow his people used to indicate their subservience. “Then the decision is made. I will tell the Guru that is the path which has been chosen by the Avatara. The Workshop will abide by it.”
Ashok scowled, for part of him wondered if he had stepped into some kind of trap. “Do as you will, but I will not be here to watch.”