Chapter 42
Ashok sat atop Horse, watching what remained of the Army of Many Houses march past. Most of the volunteers had already left to return to their homes, but a considerable honor guard had chosen to remain with their beloved Maharaja to escort his body. They were heading south, first to the Capitol and then on to Devedas’ ancestral lands on the Ice Coast where he would be entombed. There were plans for a giant monument to be placed there to honor him. It was a somber procession, for though they had accomplished great things, great men had died to do it.
These were new and uncertain times.
All along the road, citizens of Vadal had turned out to see the carriage that held Devedas’ casket pass by. To them Devedas had once been a hated invader, but now he was the hero who had saved them all from demons. Workers took off their hats and knelt as the carriage went past.
A rider spotted Ashok and broke away from the column, heading in his direction. Ashok did not call upon the Heart to sharpen his vision, for even having recovered a bit from the battle, it was but a faint shadow of what it had once been, and he would steal none of its remaining power from the last of the Protectors. And it seemed that the shard could now do for him everything the Heart once had, and more.
The rider was Jagdish and for this particular journey he was dressed in his phontho’s regalia, with turban full of stars and chest covered in medals. Ashok doubted there was an award left in Vadal they’d not pinned on him yet, and the first caste would probably need to make up new ones to give him. Such was the glory of the warrior Jagdish.
“Well, if it isn’t the most infamous criminal in the whole world,” Jagdish called out as he rode closer.
“How did you know it was me?”
“A big straw hat is hardly a disguise when you sit upon the scariest stallion anyone has ever seen, that’s white as a Devakulan mountain and nearly as big.”
Horse snorted at the compliment. Jagdish’s mount was wise enough to stay out of biting range.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Ashok.”
“I did not expect to be here.”
The two of them watched the carriage pass in silence.
Ashok would miss him.
“I’m accompanying them all the way to the border as a show of respect,” Jagdish explained. “My association with Devedas was complicated.”
“I could say the same.”
That understatement made Jagdish laugh. “I imagine so…Devedas betrayed my house before helping save it. I’m here, not just out of respect for the man, but for his family. I’m only alive because his wife once out-politicked Harta Vadal on my behalf. Someday, I’d like to visit Rada again. Someone from Vadal needs to let her know just how brave her husband was at the end.”
“I suspect she knows.”
“Probably. She’s very smart. What do you think will happen with the Capitol now that they’ve lost their king?”
Ashok shrugged. “That is unknown to me. The Capitol might never recover. Maybe someone else will be ambitious enough to claim that singular authority for themselves.”
“The first caste duel as spitefully as us warriors, only they use speeches and letters instead of steel. I think they might be equally deadly, though our way is far more honest.”
That observation caused Ashok a small smile. “True. Will the Law be all powerful again, or will the houses chafe against that authority? Will workers armed with alchemy be content to remain in their place? I do not know. Perhaps the great houses will simply send more judges and things will go back to the way they were before.”
“Something tells me that things are never going back to the way they were before all this, Ashok.”
Jagdish was astute, and he said that without knowing about the Protector Order’s new weakness. The Heart of the Mountain still beat, but what power remained would have to be used sparingly. It was doubtful there would ever be more Protectors created. “Many Protectors gave their lives in Vadal. The Inquisition has been shamed and deprived of purpose, and the militant Order that Devedas created to replace it, to bring balance between the houses, castes, and Capitol, is no more.”
“Eh…Sorta. We Defenders might be a bit more stubborn than you think.”
That made Ashok curious. “What do you mean?”
“The ancient artifact broke itself to give life to the plague, but fragments remained. Karno’s last act as the Order’s master was to give each of his Defenders who’d survived the battle one of those fragments.” Jagdish reached into the neck of his uniform and pulled out a chain. Hanging from the end of it was a small piece of black steel. “I’ve tested it. We’re no wizards, capable of learning new patterns or anything like that, but a connection remains. Everything I could do before, it seems that I can still draw upon this piece in the same fashion. Perhaps not as strongly as before, but it is something. I doubt there will be any more of us ever, but what remains, remains.”
“But the Order itself is done?”
“Returned to our houses and left to our own devices. We still took an oath to defend the people, though. I never forsook that.”
“It is a great power. Respect it.”
“I intend to.”
Ashok would expect nothing less from such an honorable man. “And Karno?”
“After he handed out the fragments, he told me he’s going home to Uttara to be a farmer, then he rode off into the western sunset.”
His old friend deserved a peaceful retirement. “Good for Karno.”
The column had moved past, but Jagdish remained, clearly not wanting to say goodbye. “Karno’s not the only one who has earned his rest. You know I have a fine estate in the east now. You’re welcome there. You can stay as long as you wish.”
“You are offering me a place to mourn.”
Jagdish gave him a sad smile. “I didn’t say that. You said that…but you’ve earned the right. When I lost Pakpa I went mad with grief. But I had an army to build and a daughter to raise, so I had other things to distract my uncalm mind. Until I found Shakti…well, she found me, but you know what I mean. She makes me happy. Thera wouldn’t want you to be miserable any more than Pakpa would have wished that on me. It’s not good for a warrior to be alone.”
“The offer is appreciated, brother. But it seems strife follows wherever I go, so I will make nowhere my home. I’ve been Ashok the Black Heart long enough. I think now I will be Ashok the Wanderer for a time.”
“I understand…” The two of them both knew that this was probably the last time they would ever speak. “Where will you go?”
Ashok had been pondering upon that question a great deal since Thera’s funeral, and whenever he did, his thoughts had irresistibly been drawn back to the ancient map of the entire world carved within the secret chamber that held the Heart of the Mountain. There were eight other continents and thousands of islands between them, and Ratul had told him that all of those had been inhabited long before the demons had fallen to the world.
Were there survivors as there had been in Lok? Did demons still trespass in those mysterious lands?
As long as the shard of Angruvadal lived, Ashok suspected he could not die, and thus he could not be reunited with Thera. Until then, he remained a living weapon, predicted by gods, forged by justice, sharpened by black steel, tested in icy sea and starving darkness, who carried in his blood a curse fatal to all the wicked soldiers of hell who might still infest the world. He would not waste what time he had.
“I will go wherever I am needed.”