Chapter 8
Maharaja Devedas stood before Thakoor Bhadramunda Vadal and his entire court. All the highest-status men of Vadal had turned out in the hopes of watching the usurper king debase himself. They did not realize that Devedas was far too proud to give them that satisfaction.
Many hateful eyes were upon him, for the visitor in golden armor had recently brought war and bloodshed to their vibrant land. Everyone here had suffered to one degree or another because of his decisions. Let them despise him. Devedas didn’t care. His purpose today was to make them understand what was at stake. Then they would either do the sensible thing and accept his help or they would die.
The Thakoor sat silently upon his throne, studying his nemesis. Only a few years past twenty, Bhadramunda—named for his grandfather, the previous bearer of Angruvadal—was young to hold such an important office, but it was said that he was the most capable and intelligent of Harta’s children, and a worthy successor. The reports Devedas had received from his spies here had all warned him that Bhadramunda had inherited his father’s pragmatic cunning and was not to be underestimated.
“Recently the Maharaja’s forces surrounded this great city and tried to starve us into submission, yet here you are before me, all by yourself.” Bhadramunda even sounded somewhat like his father when he spoke. “It is a curious decision to place yourself in such danger.”
“A decision I felt was appropriate, considering I’m on a mission of diplomacy.”
“You were not so diplomatic when you had the might of the Capitol at your back. But now that your great city lies abandoned, while mine prospers, now you are petitioning me for aid.”
“This is not a petition, Thakoor. I come to offer help in Vadal’s time of need, and I will ask for nothing in return.”
The small army of advisors who were clustered around Bhadramunda all began to whisper and mutter at that, because the Capitol never did anything for free.
Bhadramunda lifted one hand to silence the chattering old men. “Need? I am not the one in need. We have no evidence of this looming threat against us beyond the word of a notorious criminal.”
Devedas didn’t know if the criminal Bhadramunda alluded to was Ashok, or him. The first caste were very good at delivering cutting insults in a manner indirect enough to give offense while denying intending it. That was a skill Devedas had never developed. When he insulted someone, there was never any doubt whether it was intended or not.
“The evidence is Kanok, the evidence is the Capitol, and the towering piles of corpses left behind in each. There’s no denying that the demons have launched an offensive unlike anything seen in modern times. They will not stop until mankind is extinct, and they are coming here next.”
The Thakoor’s court was held in Vadal’s great house itself, which was quite possibly the finest building in the world, including even the greatest palaces of the Capitol. Everything here was a testament to the wealth, power, and history of Great House Vadal. It was gilded opulence atop carved and painted glory, and though Devedas—being an austere southerner—had no use for such things, it would still be a shame to see demons destroy it all.
“Assuming those two attacks were not an anomaly, and the demonic rampage will continue, why should we believe that Vadal is their target?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Is this not the greatest city left in the world?” Devedas wasn’t trying to flatter the Vadal—he was simply stating facts—but the advisors seemed pleased at the compliment anyway. Even when they were actively looking for offense to take, the Vadal remained a most prideful people.
“There have been many debates over which city is finer, this one or the Capitol, with arguments to be made in either’s favor. Alas, I believe that contest has been settled for us.”
Devedas frowned, for if young Bhadramunda had seen the slaughter in the desert he wouldn’t be so flippant about it. “The finest minds in the scholarly Orders are certain that Vadal City will be the demon’s next target.”
“Does that include Ashok?” Bhadramunda asked pointedly. “Phontho Jagdish told me of your alliance with the Black Heart and his gang of criminals.”
“No one has ever accused Ashok of being a scholar of any subject other than violence, Thakoor. However, Ashok also swears to this danger based upon the black-steel magic that pumps through his veins.”
“Oh, the untouchable who broke our sword and murdered my grandmother in this very room swears to it? Well, that settles it, then! Let’s throw open the gates and have a party for all our former enemies.”
The pack of advisors and courtiers all laughed at their Thakoor’s bitter humor.
Devedas had not realized that this was the same hall where Ashok had confronted his supposed aunt about his true identity. These stones had seen some blood. Hopefully they wouldn’t see any more today.
“I won’t attempt to defend any of the many evil things traitorous Ashok has done against the Law-abiding, but when the greatest killer who has ever lived says he smells blood in the air, then it would be wise to prepare for blood.”
“We were also told you’d killed him!” exclaimed one of the judges.
That question galled him, for he’d certainly tried. “I thought I had killed him. I cut his throat and threw him in the ocean. Except, Ashok laughs at death and the great nothing keeps sending him back.”
The Thakoor scoffed. “Your animosity was legendary, yet now you ride with him?”
“It is an alliance of circumstance, made tolerable only because of the severity of the danger.”
“Some claim Ashok is a bigger threat to us than demons.”
“Having fought both, they would be wrong. Anyone who says a rebel with a magic sword is the greater danger has never seen the devastation an army of demons leaves behind. For now, Ashok would rather shed white blood than red. He tried to warn the Capitol of what was coming, but we didn’t listen. I implore you, Thakoor, do not make the same mistakes I did. I missed the warnings. I failed my city.” Devedas’ voice broke a bit as he admitted that, and even the jaded members of the First must have been able to tell the emotion was genuine.
Pity temporarily softened Bhadramunda’s hardened heart. “I offer my condolences for the multitude who perished in the Capitol. I traveled there several times with my father. It was a beautiful place.”
“It will be once again. We will rebuild it after the demons have been destroyed.” Devedas took a deep breath and composed himself before continuing. They were both powerful men, but their ultimate purpose was to protect their people. They were both trying to do right by their obligation. “If I am wrong, and this threat isn’t real, your house will be defended unnecessarily. If I’m right, then your people are in danger from a menace beyond anything humanity has seen in a thousand years.”
His words hung heavy over the court.
“Still, you must understand my hesitancy, Maharaja. Once before the Capitol used the excuse of a demon attack to trespass an army into Vadal lands, where you remained, threatening us, long after our capable warriors had defeated that scourge.” At that, Bhadramunda nodded toward Phontho Jagdish, who was standing off to the side, trying his best to remain unnoticed.
Jagdish could have taken the praise and remained silent, but Devedas suspected he was far too honest for the courts—and his own good—because the phontho cleared his throat and then spoke the truth. “The reality is we should have died, my Thakoor. We only survived the scourge because we had the magical aid of the Maharaja’s future wife on our side.”
Bhadramunda frowned. “Ah yes, when my father’s favorite librarian brought down a pillar of fire that charred miles of our valuable countryside into ash, taking many lives, and causing untold amounts of property damage.”
Jagdish spread his hands apologetically. “I never claimed it was a pretty victory, Thakoor…but having seen and fought demons far more than anyone else in Vadal, I still decided to bring this man before you because I believe his warning to be true.”
“You would stake your reputation on this belief, Phontho Jagdish?”
That was a very dangerous question in a place like this. Few men of status would risk their name. Getting it wrong would result in dishonor, exile, and possibly even death.
Jagdish didn’t so much as hesitate. “Yes. To deny it would be to endanger our house and all our people.”
Bhadramunda nodded slowly, digesting that promise. His advisors clearly didn’t like what was happening but the First often hated warriors who became too popular in their courts. They preferred to keep the lower castes in their place, and that place certainly wasn’t speaking unequivocal truths to their master.
One of those advisors spoke up. “The Capitol plays us for fools, Thakoor Bhadramunda. Devedas spit on our hospitality once before and sent Sarnobat assassins against us. Against your very father!”
“I did no such thing,” Devedas snapped.
“How the kicked dog barks!” that arbiter shouted back.
Thoughts of diplomacy fled as a dark anger consumed him. “If your intent is to label me an animal, I am no mere dog. I would be a white southern bear. The bear does not bark. It rips the head off any prey stupid enough to challenge it, and then roars his victory so loud the world may hear. Do you challenge me, Arbiter?”
His words were so cold that even the hardened warriors of the Vadal Personal Guard took an unconscious step back.
“I apologize for this inadvertent offense,” the arbiter stammered.
The advisor having quailed, Devedas turned his attention back to the only man whose opinion truly mattered, and spoke with a passion born of desperation. “Yes, Thakoor, I invaded you. I occupied your lands. I led men into battle against the armies of Vadal, where both sides fought with courage. But I did not send those assassins against your house. That was the work of Grand Inquisitor Omand, whom I have since declared a criminal who is to be killed on sight. Once I received the invitation to approach your city, I left my army behind and rode here by myself, without fear of being killed or taken hostage because I know the Vadal hold their honor dear. I came to speak to you, face-to-face, ruler to ruler, admitting my mistakes in the hopes that you recognize my sincere regret, and do not make the same mistakes I did. These are not the actions of a man who has something to hide. Please, hear the truth in my words. Vadal must prepare for war once more, or the demons will consume us all.”
The court had come expecting a swallowing of pride from a hated enemy, and instead they had received an offer of friendship and an ultimatum that appealed to their accountability. It was not often the First were so obviously confounded.
Bhadramunda pondered Devedas’ words for a time, his expression unreadable, before announcing, “I would speak with my advisors for a moment.”
“Of course,” Devedas answered.
The Thakoor got up and walked out the back followed by his entire entourage, leaving Devedas standing alone in the middle of the vast space. The lesser members of the court remained in their chairs, but none of these were important enough for him to care about. There were warriors stationed at each door and upon the balconies above. If Bhadramunda was going to have Devedas killed to avenge a murder that wasn’t Devedas’ fault, now would be the ideal time. But the only people who approached him were the house slaves to offer refreshment and a chair to sit on. He refused both.
A minute after the slaves had left, an unnatural silence settled upon the great hall. The gentle breeze that had filled the room abruptly stopped, leaving the air unnaturally still. Oddly enough, Devedas’ vision grew blurry, but no amount of blinking could clear it. He didn’t have the gift for sensing magic like sword master Ratul had, but this change was so abrupt that it was obvious wizards had to be involved somehow. It was more disappointing that Bhadramunda would be too stubborn to listen to reason, than it was that he’d send wizards to attack him, but Devedas did not react, just in case this was something other than an assassination attempt.
That theory proved correct when a man in black robes and a golden mask stepped out of thin air, directly in front of him.
“Hello again, Maharaja.”
“Grand Inquisitor Omand…” Devedas deliberately placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “We were just talking about you.”
“About how you’ve declared me a dangerous criminal fugitive? Oh yes, I was listening to that part. It amused me to hear your biased version of events.”
Smug and aloof as ever, this was clearly Omand, yet there was something different about him. Devedas had never once seen his fellow conspirator’s real face, but he looked leaner and sounded younger…and somehow more dangerous. Omand had always been a powerful wizard, but now his presence made the hairs on Devedas’ neck stand up. His eyes flicked to the side, toward where the Personal Guard were watching over the hall, except they seemed oblivious to the fact that there was an intruder. It was as if their eyes were unfocused, and their ears couldn’t hear the conversation taking place only a few yards away.
“They see what I want them to see and hear what I want them to hear. There will be no witnesses unless I require some. I come and go as I please, with even wizards and bloodhounds none the wiser. We may speak freely.”
“We’ve nothing to speak about, criminal.”
“Criminal? You say it as if we are dissimilar in that respect. Are we not both criminals?”
“No. Because I won. Our arrangement ended when you decided to rule over the Capitol like a mad tyrant. I came back to put an end to your excesses, and the people loved me for it.”
“True, albeit a brief rule. You selfishly reaped the benefits of my labor, betrayed me, and now call me the villain. I find that delicious. Now I get to watch you grovel before your enemies, begging them to help you save a people you cannot. Come, Devedas, you said I was to be killed on sight. Are you not a man of your word?”
When Devedas tried to draw his sword, nothing happened. It was as if the steel were frozen inside the sheath. He pulled harder, but to no avail. When he tried to let go in order to reach for his dagger instead, his hand remained involuntarily curled around the hilt of his sword, as the muscles of his fingers refused to unclench.
“Ah, it appears I am beyond your reach, backstabber.”
Even calling upon the Heart of the Mountain for strength, Devedas could barely move against the magical paralysis. Straining with all his might did naught but make him shake.
Devedas was too angry to be afraid.
Omand could have easily ended his life, but instead he walked in a circle around Devedas, gloating. “That’s right. While you played at being king, I was occupied with unlocking the power of the ancients. The mysteries of magic are mine to exploit. The very fabric of reality is mine to distort as I see fit.”
He couldn’t move his body, but Omand had left him his ability to speak, probably in the hopes of hearing him beg for his life. He’d give Omand no such satisfaction. “If you’re so mighty now, then use that magic to help stop the demons.”
“And why should I aid those who neither love me nor serve me?”
“This is more important than amassing power!”
A cold chuckle came from behind the golden mask. “How disappointing! There’s nothing more important than power, foolish Devedas. I thought you of all men might understand that fact. Your inability to truly commit to that ideal is why you will ultimately fail.” Omand gave a theatrical pause, and then turned his head side to side to take in the sights of the magnificent hall. “Do you realize the significance of this place?”
Devedas didn’t answer, because he was busy grinding his teeth, struggling like he was trying to lift a boulder in the vain hope of breaking the spell so he could wrap his hands around Omand’s neck to wring the life out of him.
“This…this is where Angruvadal chose a casteless of the bloodline of Ramrowan to be their champion. On this very spot.” The eyes of the mask lingered on the floor before them, as if searching for signs of the blood that had been scrubbed away decades ago. The black holes of that mask turned back toward Devedas. “That quiet event—seemingly only consequential to this one great house—was the death knell of this age. That black-steel choice was the culmination of centuries of calculation and preparation. I have a much better vision of the true nature of things now, though even my great understanding is cursedly incomplete. Damn Mother Dawn for her clever meddling. Other parts of their plan were already in motion—I had already met my demonic guide, for example—but what is time to the gods?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You speak in mad riddles!”
“No. There is no madness in what the ancients prepared for us. It was the coldest of calculations. Dispassionate, really. Many of us had an unwitting part to play. As did I. As did you. How can I be upset by the unrelenting ambitions of someone designed to be king centuries before he was born? How I marvel at the ancients’ foresight.”
Devedas spat, “Kill me and get it over with, wretched spider.”
“I intend to, eventually, but not quite yet. The predictive engine declared the end of this age required a king. It said nothing about needing one for the beginning of the next. Also, for my own enjoyment, I would like to watch you suffer more first. As the demons tear apart everything around you, and the people look to you with tears in their eyes pleading for you to save them, and you cannot, remember that you asked for this heavy crown.”
“To the ocean with you, Omand! Ashok said black steel wanted me here. You say it was by the gods’ design. I don’t care. No matter how heavy that crown may be, it’s mine now, and I will use it to protect Lok from evil, whether it’s from the sea, or from the filth like you.”
The darkness on the other side of the mask studied him for a time. “It is a pity that our time is up for now. The Thakoor returns, his decision made. He will accept your help, but his command will be structured in a way that humbles and insults you, so the people of Vadal know their would-be conqueror has been put in his place. You will accept this, because you know of the darkness that is coming, and your honor leaves you no choice. I would advise not telling the Vadal that I was here, for I leave no trace of my existence. If you begin babbling of Inquisitors turned into dark gods, the Vadal will surely think you are hallucinating and reconsider their agreement. Goodbye, Devedas.”
In the blink of an eye, Omand was gone. Sound returned. The air began moving again. Devedas’ limbs unlocked, and he nearly toppled over from the sudden freedom. Flushed, he hurried and wiped the sweat from his face with his hands and composed himself before the high-status men entered the room. Weakness must never be shown. It was a lesson hard learned in his youth.
Omand’s predictions proved accurate. Bhadramunda welcomed the Army of Many Houses to his city, but he had a great list of demands first. It didn’t matter what he wanted, no matter how insulting or degrading, and the Thakoor’s speech was like the buzzing of insects in his ears. Courtly things were meaningless now. Devedas cared only about beating the demons and then figuring out if there was a way a king could slay a god.