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Chapter 22

Jagdish was not awoken by the messenger, because the truth was, he rarely slept most nights now anyway. There were too many people counting on him to allow for anything more than a few hours of fitful slumber at a time, and the rest was for fretting he hadn’t done enough. Closing his eyes just gave him more time to think of the many things he still needed to attend to, of ways he could make this city a tougher nut to crack. There were always more fortifications to enhance, supplies to store, and men to train.

So he was lying on his bed, awake, pondering what else he could do to fight demons better, when the word came that the demons were already here.

It was odd. For just a moment after hearing those warning shouts Jagdish lay there and wondered if he should have been scared, or crushed with a ponderous feeling of accountability, because after all, the future of his people was in his hands. He could even have pretended to sleep for another minute in a vain attempt to deny reality before his guards came rushing in to wake him.

But as always, Jagdish just did what was expected of him, because that’s what warriors do.

By the time the bellowing messenger reached the front gates, Jagdish was there to meet him.

The report was dire, and it was from Ashok, who would not exaggerate. There were demons in the vital artery that ran through his city, in number greater than had gutted the Capitol.

Jagdish had given up his regular quarters in the city to house troops and taken to sleeping in the warrior district’s command post. Shakti and Pari had been sent to stay at his estate in the east a few weeks ago, supposedly so that she could attend to the army’s affairs on the border, but in truth it was so Jagdish wouldn’t be distracted with worry. His lady hadn’t cared for that, but Jagdish couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking about anything other than his obligation.

Besides, if he failed here, the demons would come for everyone else soon enough.

A cadre of officers rushed to him, and Jagdish wasted no time. “It’s as we feared, boys. The demons are using the river, but we’ve planned for this.” In fact, Jagdish had a dozen different contingency plans ready, depending on where the demons emerged. The river had been his most dreaded option. “Have the armies move into their assigned districts along the banks before we sound the evacuation bells. I’ll not have the streets clogged with noncombatants trying to run away blocking the warriors from getting where they need to go. Once every paltan has had time to get into position, I’ll order the general evacuation of the other castes. If we can’t hold them at the banks, then every district has an assigned fortification they can fall back to. Each of you must see to your responsibilities. Am I understood?”

Every one of his aides shouted in affirmation. The officers who’d been obligated to the night watch at the command post tended to be younger and of lower status than those who were here during the day, but Jagdish had drilled them mercilessly just the same. Each warrior in this city had a job to do and it would be done. He knew they would not fail him.

Redundant messages were sent. Everybody with any sort of responsibility would be told to get to it. Jagdish wasn’t worried about any members of his caste, whether of Vadal or even the outsiders who’d heeded Devedas’ summons and traveled from distant houses to come here. A warrior wasn’t going to ride across the whole continent and not fight when given such an amazing opportunity for glory. He was more worried about the workers who’d been conscripted and armed to serve as sepoy militia. But he was sending so many runners there would be no claiming afterward from anyone that they didn’t know it was time to serve. Anyone who didn’t show up to do their duty now would be labeled cowardly shirkers for the rest of their miserable lives.

While his servants helped him into his armor, more officers kept arriving. They’d report or ask questions. He’d bark orders. They’d leave. The cycle repeated. Over his breastplate went his sash of rank, upon which he wore but a single medal, the illustrious Param Vir Chakram, the wheel of courage. He wore that in the hopes that when his men saw it they would be reminded of the high purpose of their caste and inspired. Perhaps he was naïve, but Jagdish knew it would have worked on him when he was a lowly nayak. Once fully encased in plate armor and mail painted the proud blue-gray and bronze colors of Vadal, Jagdish went outside to where his horse was saddled and waiting for him.

His personal guard were ready to ride.

Najmul Sarnobat dipped his helm in greeting. “It is for this day the gods sent me to serve you, Jagdish.” Since the Maharaja’s legalization of religion, the bold fanatic didn’t even bother to hide his faith anymore. “I shall keep you alive or die trying.”

“I’ve got no time for your silly gods, Najmul. If any of us survive today it’ll be because the men of Vadal do not break.”

“And because Master Karno granted some of us Defender might,” Najmul quipped, for he too had received the blessings of the Heart.

“That helps too. Now let’s go look fate in the eye and tell her we’ll allow no demons here.”

“You and your talk of fate, Jagdish. I swear you fear the gods as much as I do. You just call them by another name.”

Maybe that was true…And maybe if Jagdish tried hard enough, perhaps unseen fate would take pity on a poor warrior one last time.

They set out for the river.


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