Chapter 36
Devedas shoved the dying demon off the end of his new sword.
Raising Khartalvar, he turned in search of his next challenge…and found nothing.
He had been fighting for so long without pause that he couldn’t comprehend there being an end to this battle. There were still demons as far as the eye could see, but they were unmoving, torn apart not by blade or cannonball, but by some unseen power far more violent. It was as if these demons had been turned inside out.
“Who will fight me? Who is next?” the Maharaja roared, but the streets were quiet. He turned back to his men. “Where is our enemy?” But what remained of the Army of Many Houses had no response to give him. They were just as confused as their commander.
He spotted Broker Harban, standing over the body of a spider demon that appeared to have reached into its torso to pull its own stomach out before expiring. The Protector was soaked in blood, badly injured, and just as baffled as Devedas. “I don’t know. They just…died.”
“Broker, take command here while I figure out what’s going on.”
Devedas ran to the nearest tall factory building, past the exhausted workers covered in soot and filth, up many flights of stairs, to reach the roof, upon which the cannons had fallen silent for the first time in hours. As the warriors had held the demons back, the workers had hauled the incredibly heavy weapons all the way up here with ropes and pulleys, and immediately gone back to shooting. Never again would Devedas doubt the capability of the worker caste.
Sprawled below him was Vadal City. He sharpened his vision and searched in every direction. Vast swaths of the city had been destroyed. Fires raged out of control. But…it seemed the demons were all dead. Their bodies were splayed across rooftops or lying in the streets. Not a single one was moving. Not so much as a shiver.
The army of hell had been defeated.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Victory had seemed so impossible that Devedas was overcome and began to laugh. He laughed until tears came out of his eyes.
The worker Gutch approached him, shouting, “We’re out of targets. Did we win?”
“We’ve won.”
“What?”
The poor worker had been around the loudest things in the world all day. Of course his ears were ringing. So Devedas used the Heart of the Mountain to shout loud enough for the entire city to hear, “We are victorious!”
As that shout echoed through the streets, the surviving warriors began to cheer. The workers hugged each other and leapt up and down.
Gutch cackled with glee. “Piss on you, demons!”
They had paid greatly for it, but they had done the impossible.
Devedas may have failed the Capitol, but he had helped save Vadal and hopefully the rest of Lok as well. Their accomplishment was so great that in the moment even a man of Devedas’ vision couldn’t grasp the implications.
But ever the commander, he knew there was no time for celebration when there was still work to be done. There were wounded to tend, citizens to rescue, and fires to fight. And just because he couldn’t see them didn’t mean there weren’t more demons hiding somewhere. These men had fought like legends, but he had far more to ask of them before they could rest.
He grabbed Gutch by the arm and shouted into his ear. “Gather your runners to find Jagdish and your leaders. I will send wizards to tell Thakoor Bhadramunda to send in those obligated to fight fires and aid the injured.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“You actually care. You might make a good king after all.” Then Gutch realized he probably shouldn’t have said something so brazen. “I mean no offense—”
Devedas roared with laughter and slapped him on the back. “You can offend me tomorrow, gun man! Today I love you and your criminal scum as if they were my Protectors. Now go! Our people need us.”
As Gutch hurried off, Devedas turned back to the city he’d helped save, still struggling to believe that they really might have prevailed. He should have died a hundred times over today, and would have if he hadn’t taken up an ancestor blade.
At that thought, Devedas reached for Khartalvar, sheathed at his side in a scabbard he’d taken from a dead Kharsawani warrior, but he hesitated, hand inches from the grip. For it had allowed him to wield it during a desperate battle with the fate of mankind hanging in the balance. Surely, it would recognize his crimes and find him unworthy now.
He drew it anyway.
Khartalvar spared his life.
Perhaps Gutch was right. Maybe he wouldn’t be a bad king after all.
Suddenly, the sword’s instincts warned him of a deadly threat, worse than any of one of the demons they’d fought together so far, more dangerous than anything any bearer had faced, going back to the forging of the swords. He turned around to find himself face-to-face with the golden mask of Grand Inquisitor Omand.
“Did you think it would so easy, Devedas?”
Before Devedas could strike, Omand grabbed hold of his wrist with bone-crushing force. He was in the shape of a man but possessed the strength of a demon.
“Easy?” Devedas snarled. “There are so many dead it’ll take days to count them! There was no easy here, except for the coward who sat out the battle, letting everyone else bleed, so he could come out of hiding to claim the glory for himself at the end!”
A low growl came from behind that golden mask. “That’s where we are different, Devedas. Glory is something you yearned for. Adulation means nothing to me. I care only about power. With the Voice and her priest dead, and the Forgotten’s Warrior having thrown himself into the abyss to destroy the last of the demons, all that remain in competition for that power are the king and the mask.”
Devedas put both hands on Khatalvar and tried to lever it toward Omand’s body. The workers saw the struggle and began shouting for help.
“Even the mightiest weapon will do you no good. I am the appointed custodian of black steel now.” Omand let go.
Devedas slashed. Omand’s flesh parted like smoke.
That blow should have removed his head, but Omand reformed, unharmed. “Fool. You lack the status to harm me.”
Then a wave of unseen force shattered the stones around Devedas, flinging him over the edge. The distant ground rushed up to meet him. A dozen bones broke on impact.
Omand landed softly a few feet away.
There was only pain. Devedas tried to move, but he was too broken. The Heart of the Mountain managed to keep him alive, but just barely. All he could do was lie there in agony as his enemy approached.
“You should never have betrayed me, Devedas.”
Warriors saw their golden Maharaja’s impact and ran to his aid. With a casual wave of Omand’s hand, an invisible force hurled them all away.
“I would have been content to let you manage the herds in my name. Wear your little crown, sit upon the throne I gave you, and play at being the Law. I would have allowed that because a god should not waste his time on the menial.”
Omand could have killed him easily right then, but he was, by both obligation and nature, a torturer. He kicked a dent in Deveda’s breastplate, driving broken ribs into his lungs.
Khartalvar flashed through Omand’s body, but met no resistance.
“Every man has his place. You forgot yours.” Omand took him by the neck, effortlessly lifted Devedas, and threw him against a nearby wall hard enough to crack the bricks. More bones broke, including his arm.
He bent down to whisper in Devedas’ ear. “It’s a rare treat to be able to play with a Protector, because your kind can be cut on for days before they die. You do not have that much time, but I will enjoy every moment of this.”
More warriors were approaching, and now that they realized there was an all-new form of demon in their midst, they were ready to fight. Omand saw them forming up against him and laughed. “Pathetic.”
“Leave them be,” Devedas managed to gasp. “They’re honorable men fulfilling their obligations.”
“They are naught but insects to me.”
With those words, Omand confirmed the mad tyranny he had unleashed in the Capitol was but a tiny glimpse of the terror he would inflict upon Lok. These men had crossed a continent to shed their blood on behalf of a foreign house and stood firm against the army of hell. If Omand could treat such heroes with such disdain, what hope would anyone have under his terrible reign?
Devedas concentrated on a few specific injuries. Not the failing organs, but on the bones and muscles of his sword arm, so that he might launch one last desperate attack.
“Behold your Maharaja!” Omand shouted, before kicking Devedas again, hard enough to flip him over and slide him across the bloody street into an ashen gutter. “He does not rule you. I rule you!”
“Kill the Inquisitor!” Broker Harban roared back.
A hundred warriors charged. With the sweep of one hand, Omand sent a hurricane through them. Men were thrown in every direction and slammed against the stones. The ground split open and warriors fell through the cracks. The few Protectors stumbled, but continued pushing onward through the magical onslaught, until each of those was lashed by waves of fire and force until they too were hurled down and sent rolling away.
Not a single man was left standing except for Omand. There was no doubt that he could have killed them all if he’d felt like it.
The sky blackened. Faster than a Vadal monsoon, rumbling storm clouds formed out of the clear blue, as the Grand Inquisitor bellowed, “Do you fools understand what I am now? I am the god of this world!”
“The Law-abiding have no gods!” a fallen Protector shouted.
“The Law is your collar, dogs, and I hold your chains. I have always held the chains. You will do as you are commanded or pay with your lives! And your families’ lives! And your houses’ lives! Every man has his place and yours is beneath my boot.”
Devedas had only known Omand to be devious and calculating, his manner cold. He had never before seen him ranting with the fury of a madman before. The ancient magic Omand had found must have further corrupted a thing that had already been rotten to the core.
Lightning flashed above. “I was already your master, for as you obeyed the Law, the Law obeyed me. Now I am your god and the Law will be my scripture, the Inquisition my priesthood. Any man who fails to serve me will perish.”
Slowly, what remained of the Army of Many Houses got back to their unsteady feet.
Omand’s fury seemed to calm a bit, though the unnatural clouds continued to flash and rumble. “Your courage wavers, because you know what I say is true. Those who resist will be punished, but those who obey will be rewarded. I will make you an offer to demonstrate this, so that you can return to your houses to preach of my wisdom and mercy. Whichever one among you who would come forth and cut the throat of Devedas, I offer you his crown. Whoever steps forward and kills Devedas right now will become Maharaja of Lok.”
The cruelty was masterful. Devedas, to atone for being denied his birthright by black steel, had spent his life in pursuit of a seemingly impossible goal. Risking everything, sacrificing honor and friendship, betraying the Law he’d been raised to serve, and even endangering those he loved, all so Omand could give the title he’d earned to the first soldier hungry enough to put a broken man out of his misery.
Omand walked a slow circle around Devedas as he beckoned the crowd to draw near. “Hear me, Army of Many Houses. Come and test the generosity of your new god. The Capitol will be yours to rule as you see fit. Lift your house up or cast down the others you hate. Claim your riches. Take your revenge. I do not care what you do with your reward. I simply ask, who among you would be king?”
Through the haze of pain, Devedas watched his men, unsure and afraid. Here was the face of the Law, wielding magic beyond comprehension, defeating Protectors as if they were nothing, promising them power undreamed to them and their houses, and all they had to do was turn their sword against the usurper.
He saw his bodyguard, Rane, who had been forced to look the other way while Vassal House Garo had made a dishonorable pact with Devedas and thrown Ashok into the sea. Ashok, who’d shown Rane mercy and saved his life on the plains. His people barely survived on the ragged edge of the world. What was the life of one master against ensuring the eternal safety of his house?
But neither Rane nor any of the other Garo faltered.
He saw Broker and the other Protectors, who had kept enforcing the Law even as Devedas had twisted it and used it for his own ambitions. He had been their brother, then their Lord Protector. Yet his actions had put them all in danger and allowed a tyrant to seize control of the Capitol. Good men had died atop the Tower of Silence because of Devedas’ actions. Would one of them be tempted to punish him and then use his authority to set things right?
No…The Protectors remained where they were. They too were drawing upon the dying Heart, summoning strength for one last desperate attack against Omand, who was a vile blasphemy against the Law.
Warriors of every house were present. He’d been friend to some, foe to others. Omand’s offer was surely tempting, but if there had been a dishonorable one among them, the demons must have culled them today, for not a single warrior moved. They had followed Devedas into battle, and his courage had shown them what it meant to be the Maharaja. They would not forsake him now.
But then there was Gutch.
“Hey, Grand Inquisitor!” The shout came from high atop the damaged factory, where the big worker stuck his head over the edge. “Do workers count in this here Maharaja offer of yours?”
All eyes turned upward, including the black holes of the golden mask. “You are all equally nothing beneath my contempt. If a lesser caste is who would serve as an example of my generosity to those who would be loyal to me, then so be it. Come and take your prize.”
“Well, I am exceedingly interested in this opportunity, as I think I would make a fine ruler, but it’s going to take me a minute to climb down there, because as you can see that’s a great many stories I must traverse before I can proceed with the ceremonial throat slitting…” As warriors began to hurl curses at Gutch for his treachery, the big man looked toward the other side of the roof, where the bronze endcap of one of his cannons had just appeared, sticking over the edge. “Ready, boys?” He waited but a moment for their unseen affirmation. “Close enough. Fire!”
The cannon went off.
The great weapons were not particularly accurate, but these workers must have been very lucky, because their projectile struck the Grand Inquisitor, dead center.
As the smoke cleared it revealed Omand, not just still standing, but holding the cast-iron cannonball overhead for all to see that he had caught it. The impact had deformed the projectile, leaving imprints of his fingers in the metal. Omand dropped the cannonball. As it rolled away, the workers ran for their lives.
Lightning struck the rooftops. There was an ear-splitting crack of thunder, followed by even more noise as the Fortress powder stored there detonated. Chunks of building and worker rained down on the street.
“You have spit on my benevolence. Your labors have been for nothing. This entire city will die for this insult.”
Omand’s cloaked form seemed to grow in size as magical energy gathered about him, coalescing into a halo of darkness. As the Grand Inquisitor reached out and took hold of that magic, the power curled around his arms like snakes. That magic unfurled into two deadly whips that immediately began to burn their way through the road.
“Look upon your god and know fear!”
The shadow whip descended to take Devedas’ life.
It was blocked by a black-steel blade.
“I fear nothing.” Ashok Vadal flicked the whip away. “Look upon your executioner, Omand, and see death.”