Chapter Seven

  1.

  “Hadi. Eyes up front,” Nisal said.

  “Come on,” he complained. “This is the only waterfall east of Suva. Besides, everyone else is already looking up front, since you are leading. Wouldn’t a pair of eyes elsewhere actually help?”

  “Very funny, My Lord. Now, Eyes. Up. Front.”

  Sighing greatly, Hadi affixed his gaze to the bushy brown tail on Nisal’s horse. Hold on, there was a fly on there. Fly here, fly there, never my heart’s desire.

  There was a prolonged, pointed coughing sound. Hadi looked up at Nisal and blushed. The black of her hair looked too delicate on the white of her clothing, to the point he had to gulp and look away again.

  “How much longer?” he asked. Nisal ignored it. “Sometimes, I swear, it feels like you’re expecting the devil himself to come down and attack you.”

  “You never know, My Lord.”

  “Besides, what’s so wrong with it? We should reward anyone catching pirates and giving away their gold to the villages. Essentially, they’re doing our job for us!”

  “We have to meet them if we want to reward them, My Lord.”

  It was true. Hadi’s sore back wasn’t happy for it. “I never knew we had pirates, Nisal.”

  Silence.

  “My lord, don’t take me wrong,” — hesitation. “There’s a great deal you wouldn’t know if you stay cooped up in those villages.” Truth.

  Nisal always spoke the truth. It would make Hadi smile even if it were the end of the world. If she was there to say it.

  “My Lord, I suggest we take caution now. Orshaa comes in twenty minutes,” said Kang-Ye, his hardy cavalier. “If this is some kind of brigand we’re dealing with, he could have runners hidden in the trees, never mind archers or worse.”

  “Do as you see fit,” responded Nisal curtly. Kang had their riders fan out into a column of three. All the horses were well-fed but lean, and their worst shooter could still hit it thrice out of ten times at one-fifty metres. Two hundred of some of the best in the Empire... so long as they had those horses and the guns... and Nisal...

  “Hey, you know what I read in the book from Sen-Long?” he called out to Nisal. “Apparently, you don’t need sandy soil to grow hersin! There’s a variety of it, a bit costly — but you can also grow it in wetter soil.”

  “Books say a lot of things,” Nisal said.

  “Not in this much detail! It has a name for the plant, a price, an origin story, and a list of dos and don’ts.”

  “How much does it cost, My Lord?” Kang-Ye was practically drooling. A hersin garden would mean he could push his soldiers twice as hard, then have them recover. Rinse and repeat.

  “That, uh...”

  “My Lord has no money,” Nisal smirked. “He’s invested it all in the waterslide in Sinki village.”

  It was the source of Hadi’s pride and joy, a three-man-tall wooden structure, water coursing around its dark, spindly innards, carrying the skittering forms of laughing village children and night-time Hadi alike (only when nobody was watching).

  “It’s a sunk investment,” he pronounced imperiously.

  “Big word. Something another book says?” Nisal teased. Hadi was grateful none of his riders were big on formality. Besides, he controlled their monthly pay.

  “It means something that’ll come back to me, but after a very long time. The children will like me, and then I will make them study in my school, and then they’ll graduate and join my staff.”

  “Merhuman staff, imagine that!” said Kang-Ye, but not in a too-disparaging way.

  “Not to use most of my manpower is just making myself weaker.”

  “You have revolutionary ideas, My Lord.”

  “Now, mind you never to use that word around my mother —”

  “Shhh,” Nisal cut him off harshly, hand raised to motion everyone to a stop. Bending her head, she listened and listened for something. Hadi was close enough to see her neck hair stand up.

  “What is it?” he asked despite her warning.

  “I — I think I felt something brush against my mind. It wasn’t magic. It seemed like more. My Lord.” She turned around to face him. There was a bit of panic around her eyes, something he’d never seen there before. “I suggest you turn back. Let me investigate and report back to you.”

  “Nonsense,” he said. “Besides, we don’t need to go. We could come back with reinforcements later.”

  Nisal’s eyes brightened, whereas Kang’s coloured with mild disapproval.

  “But,” Hadi continued, “this village falls under me, and I’m worried about them. Perhaps we should abandon the road and gain higher ground instead. Take a look at it from up high.”

  “In that case, we should send a few scouts ahead. Moving uphill in the blind can be very bad,” Kang-Ye said.

  “No, scouts will only alert anyone watching, and they’d be powerless alone. Besides, we have Nisal scrying the air.”

  “My Lord, do you not trust the skills of your own men?” Kang-Ye showed mock hurt.

  “Do it,” Nisal spoke over him, and three riders broke off. They also abandoned the road after the scouts were gone, stepping into the sloping forests.

  East of Suva was a point made in contrast. While the west was all plains and marshes producing half the Empire’s food, the east was mostly fallow highlands — unruly jungles cut apart by tributaries like Orshaa before they met Suva, the gentle giant. The hills became more and more like mountains the farther one traveled north and east, finally becoming the leviathan of the Canu ranges, rendering the Empire’s eastern coasts uninhabitable. Except for volcanics, of course.

  People like Kang found divine symmetry in the contrast, a proof of God’s hand — who else could or would create such a landscape?

  Hadi found endless opportunity in it. Fallowness was a misnomer — a mistake no one could see through. It was a land blessed with natural resources, defensively fortified by that same hand of nature, and waiting for someone impatient to unlock its potential and lift up its people. Hadi had seen it. He had been in attendance at the villagers’ night-dances, their hunt-feasts. A people unlike the coastal merhumans, the forest merhumans had never had much to lose. Isolated and destitute, they were happy with very little, and yet, never once looked at their feet. It was the same reason they never asked a question about Hadi’s participation, and it was why they were made for so much more.

  Truth be told, Hadi had never interacted much with coastal merhumans, especially from the west. This was part of his domain, but he had been negligent, because he didn’t even know what this village looked like. And now, someone else had solved something he should have been aware of, making his appearance look more like an exercise in the assertion of empty authority. Nevertheless, the trees they glided between seemed just like the trees surrounding Sinki at night. It felt like his country, like what he knew.

  The soil beneath Prose’s pumping hooves was green, and occasional leaves all brown — the mushy, not the crunchy kind. They were going up and up, and now, the terrain had leveled out, a powerful stream roaring through under their cliff. That had to be Orshaa river. Nisal led them on without a reprieve, and soon they were back under the forest blanket, the river’s sounds becoming tinnier and tinnier. The air turned more and more stale, and Hadi thought of asking how much farther there was before deciding better. An odd darkness clung to the trees, making the dirt on their leaves shine like gold. It was queer, because Hadi thought it was the day, and the top of the hill should have had more light. He looked at Kang riding beside — warrior of light, so out of place here, unlike me.

  As he watched, Kang’s head jerked back, and a blast of blood burst out of his nostrils, making him slide out of his ride. There was a swishing sound. No, more than one. Many more. More bodies hit the ground. A great weight collided with him from the side, and he blacked out for a minute when his head hit the ground. It smelled faintly of Nisal’s hair. “Perimeter! Give me a perimeter!” He heard her yelling from above him. His cavaliers would now be assuming a perimeter, a circle of two hundred facing outwards. A fantastic defensive position, but also the perfect target. Another round of swishes rang out, and more low groans could be heard. “Horses! Use the horses as cover!” Nisal screamed.

  “Lady, we can’t see anything!” a soldier reported.

  Hadi looked out from his position on the ground, through the boots of shocked soldiers and uneasy beasts, and saw bodies emerge from the dark slopes below. They were manic, dirty, and desperate. Cutlasses in their hands, death in their eyes, forty Suva pirates charged up at them.

  2.

  Noshed thought it was a terrible idea, and the man had made no secret of that fact. Mer had thought his proximity would reassure him at least a little bit, but this was the fourth time he opened his mouth to say the same string of words: “Archmage. Mer! I think this is a really bad idea. It’s suicidal. We can’t fight an imperial army. The river is right below our feet. This is the last chance we could have.”

  “I thought you were not leaving field decisions up to me,” Mer teased him.

  “Please, Archmage. I can’t protect them the way you can. But I have seen —”

  “Countless battles, the smell of horse manure and cannon balls — yeah I got it.”

  “I —”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Shush. Look there. You see that woman riding up front? Well, you’ll see them all in a minute. She’s not quite an archmage, but I don’t know of a mage with higher control than her.”

  “All the more reason —”

  “That we get it right. An armed force should not be acting with two heads. Or two sets of purposes, for that reason. You’re only thinking of survival, and only today. You’re not thinking of tomorrow.”

  “Are you?” Noshed whispered.

  Mer looked ahead, and in precisely five seconds, an army of two hundred appeared through the foliage.

  “Dear God,” Noshed swore. “There’s no way we are getting through —”

  Then he closed his eyes, shook his head, and slapped both cheeks. “Alright, alright. This is it. We have to take them when they circle the cliff, with the water to their backs. We’ll have the high ground.”

  “When I say it,” said Mer.

  “Sure,” huffed the grizzled soldier incredulously, looking furtively at the armed merhumans hiding in the trees.

  “My Lord, it’s now or never,” Noshed hissed as the riders came close.

  “My Lord,” he clenched his teeth as they passed right by them. One cough, one scratch of a limb could give their surprise away.

  “Don’t call me that,” Mer’s eyebrow curled slightly in displeasure as he concentrated.

  Then the riders were past them, getting farther and farther up the path that went right behind them. The merhumans swiveled to keep them within sight. Noshed exhaled, no doubt thinking it was time to jump and escape through the river.

  “Now,” Mer said. “Fire.”

  Noshed’s eyes flew open, and after a stunned moment, he woodenly repeated the command. It wasn’t even a shout, but everyone heard it. At least forty magical rifles opened in a volley. They weren’t perfectly in sync, but it wasn’t so bad either, and Mer saw at least five bodies drop. Memories flooded Noshed’s veins, and he heard himself bellowing “Reload!”

  “That won’t be necessary, Noshed.”

  “Fire!”

  Another round of shots rang out, and more bodies fell. Amid the dust and the chaos, Noshed could see their opponents forging together a perimeter defense, a few of them bringing horses to the fore as shields.

  “I said that won’t be necessary!” Mer yelled, bringing Noshed back to the here and now. “Now you take a step back, my splendid commander. Take everyone and jump into the river. I will take care of things here.”

  “Abandon!” Noshed ordered. “Uh — retreat! Jump! Into the river!”

  Bodies started falling into the river like loose rocks, but a mass of them ran at the humans instead. “Help!” the pirates were screaming. “Save us!” Noshed had always questioned the wisdom of leaving them with cutlasses, that too at the front of their position, regardless of their leader being a hostage. That doubt was vindicated now, as the pirates not only gave away their position, but a few stupid villagers chased after them, coming into the open.

  “Idiots! River! Into the river! Let them go!” Noshed commanded, but it was too late. The villagers’ volley had been good, but this one reminded Noshed of what true professionals sounded like. There was a single sound, almost like a short, crisp whistle, and about a dozen pirates went down. It was a remarkable sound.

  He’d heard of an elite regiment of cavaliers among Lady Strovinkaya’s troops before, led by her young son, a vain wastrel living in the forest castle. No wastrel could raise a troop like that.

  “Go! Go! Go!” he screamed as more pirates and the three villagers chasing them were cut down.

  “You too, idiot. Go!” Mer said, and shoved Noshed into the swirling waters far below.

  3.

  “Wait, wait!” Hadi cried through the pounding in his ears. He shoved Nisal off and sat up gingerly.

  “My Lord, you should stay down!”

  “Not there,” Hadi pointed at the fallen pirates. “There! They’re there in the trees.”

  “Protect the Lord!” Nisal ordered. “We’re getting out of here!”

  “No! If we leave now, we might as well forget it forever.”

  They hurt Hadi’s men. They killed Kang. They would pay.

  “What had Kang ever done to them?” he appealed to Nisal desperately. As if she had an answer.

  “My Lord, we should leave now. This is no ordinary situation. Perhaps Emre is involved. Perhaps another power. Either way, I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  “Good feeling?” he snarled. “After so many good men have breathed their last already?” They wouldn’t breathe the forest air ever again. Not this stale, stinky humid compost breath. True forest air.

  “She’s right, you know? You should take her advice,” said a voice from Nisal’s right. She shivered, then lunged at a man Hadi had never seen before. He took her kick fully on his arm, even though he had to lurch back a few feet. Nisal’s hand exploded in orange fire and the inferno bathed the man all over in a flash. Strangely, the man smiled. The fire danced from his head to his toe, then winked out as if it had never existed.

  “What is a child like you doing here?” he asked Hadi.

  Five of Hadi’s men charged the mage, bayonets first. Five points pierced the man. Then vanished into nothing just like the hands that followed. Screaming, they collapsed to the forest floor, disbelieving eyes clutching at stumps. Hadi’s eyes went to Kang’s upturned body, and he wrenched his sword free, screaming with all his fury would afford before charging the man. Nisal tackled him from the side, making his sword sail harmlessly by the man’s shoes.

  “Run!” Nisal was shaking him. “Run! I will be right behind you.”

  The man’s eyes turned sad. Nisal’s arms were trembling violently — Hadi realized through her grip on him. “You should all go,” the man said, before walking through clumps of frozen soldiers, leaving them all alone, a dozen or two fewer now.

  4.

  It was free-falling evening by the time they reached the castle. Darkness clung to the foliage now, too, but there was nothing unnatural about it. No one had spoken on the way back, and even the mosquitoes left them alone. Nisal and Hadi rode the same horse — it was Nisal’s Red-fleck as Prose had been tasked to carry two of his dead cavaliers. Sip and Nur. Nisal sat right behind him, silently supporting his weight, and he couldn’t even be happy about that. All he wanted to do was to sink into the ground and forget everything he had had to see. Even now, he was more worried about his own experience than the ones who died. To protect him. None of them even knew what for. Not even Hadi.

  And that’s why he couldn’t meet a single one of their eyes, and slunk off his horse, head held low, when they were finally within the familiar old castle compound. It seemed so small within the forest today. The forest of unknowns. Not merely a benevolent place — not for anyone.

  He knew something was wrong the moment he saw the tents upon tents in his training ground on the way in. Hopefully, he could do something about it before they littered the place beyond redemption. All his staffers looked a bit pallid tonight. Could it be because of his incompetence in the battlefield? But then, they wouldn’t have had to be scurrying about with purpose. No, the big army right at his doorstep could only mean one thing.

  “Mother,” he said wearily, spotting Lady Strovinkaya’s widening form perched on some elegant looking mattresses in his dining hall.

  “Hadi!” she beamed. “My pride! Come here, son!”

  He had no other way but to trudge up to them. “As I was saying,” she continued on to Sir Khembi, “Rebels would never have such attitude without some outside help.”

  “Perhaps Emre. Or...” she mused.

  “Someone from the Western cities. It’s always someone closest to you to find it easiest to betray you,” Khembi finished.

  “And the princess. That snotty brat. There’s clearly more than meets the eye here. What if the brat was not acting on her own machinations?”

  “That’s... not something I had thought about, Your Grace.”

  “Hmm. The Woodmans have been wobbly for some time. The Western cities are becoming too powerful. The birdlings are restive. What if they want one of theirs overlooking Suva? My province has a lot to offer.”

  “That... would make a lot of sense, My Lady. Even if the princess has a generally uncouth reputation, at the end of the day, she is nothing but a throwaway pawn for the royal family. If she succeeds, they gain. If she fails, they disown her.”

  “Greedy leeches, all of them. Pawing at my little land and salivating like fornicating footbugs. Khembi, look at my son! Hasn’t he grown so much?” Hadi’s mother boomed, even though it had only been five months since they last saw each other.

  “Truly, My Lady. The finest specimen of man I have ever seen, if I may say so.”

  “Come,” the great lady clapped. “I’ve brought a gift for you, son.”

  Two slender Sen-Long dancers sauntered into the room, making a gentle push of air to create smoke and aroma. The wind started whispering in happy tunes, and they curtseyed, then started moving with the music. The strips covering their breasts were extremely thin, and Hadi felt ashamed — on their behalf and his.

  “Nisal, I have a task for you,” his mother said.

  “Anything, My Lady.” Nisal’s left foot was crunched up in pain.

  “There’s a nuisance in the area. He goes by the name of Lilek. He used to be a soldier of mine, but we suspect he was really an Emrete spy. You’re to dispose of this trash.”

  “Certainly, My Lady. I will go as soon as I’m sure Lord Hadi is safe and comfortable. We had a —”

  “Listen, girl. This trash killed two hundred of my soldiers. Magic apparently doesn’t affect him, and neither do weapons. But it must be a trick. Leave my son to me and do your job. Find out his trick, and bring him to me like a dog. I’d like to see his burnt face just before I step on it.”

  “We saw him today.”

  There was silence all around as Hadi said it.

  “Yes, it is true. Neither magic nor weapons affect him. He killed my best men. My friend. Kang, he —”

  “What was my son doing there?” Strovinkaya demanded of Nisal, too much venom in her eyes.

  “Listen to me, mother. He let us go. He could have ‘disposed’ of us.”

  “Is this why I picked you out of the markets in Sen-Long, girl? Is this why I fed you and funded your studies for years in the university? So you could feed off his generosity while he ventured into the forest alone? Unprotected?”

  “Mother.”

  “Answer me, girl!”

  “No, she won’t!” Hadi stood up. “You will not speak to my staffers that way! They are my friends. They are my people, the only reason I exist!”

  “My Lord has a big heart,” Khembi said conciliatorily into the silence. “His subjects are lucky to have him.”

  “I lost them, mother. I lost them today. We came two inches from the eye of death, and death felt sad today and let us go.” They will never train with me again, mother. Never politely listen to my verses. Never joke among themselves. Their families will never be able to hold them again.

  “I am sorry... I am sorry, my boy,” said the Lady. “Losing your father has been hard on you. Sit. You can have the girls now,” she gestured kindly. Hadi’s stomach churned.

  “Girl. Describe him,” she said to Nisal. “Describe the bastard that dared to point a finger at my son.”

  “I don’t know,” Nisal closed her eyes. “He was like a great evil unleashed on earth. As if a never-ending night is about to gobble the land up. It was not magic, no. It was something else. Far greater. Far older,” she shivered so slightly that only Hadi could see it.

  “I know you Sen-Long types tend to be superstitious, but I never thought you were also like that. Either way, show me you’re really the ‘greatest fire mage’ in the south, girl. It’s not your job to shiver and cower. Leave that to the hobnobbing fishnecks. As I said, you will bring this footbug to me, on all fours like a dog. Do everything you need to do. You’re free to use your authority for that.”

  “Khembi,” she said. “Stay back. Protect my son. Also, I don’t feel good about the princess going off on her own. I’ve had enough of this headache, and it all seems connected. I will forgive her personal attacks on my hospitality. You must find her, and once we do, she should be on the first barge up the river, out of our hair.”

  “As Your Grace wishes.”

  “Ugh, it’s been long. Where’s the food? My volcanics are faster than this kitchen staff. Hey, you two! Your grannies teach you how to dance? Put your waist into it!”

  “Hehehe, Your Grace. You really have the best sense of humour.”

  “As if you’d know, Khembi. Your soul has more twists than a fat woman’s folds.”

  “Hahaha hahaha Your Grace! That’s damn funny.”

  And it went on and on. Hadi kept sitting, waiting, then waiting some more like a dead doll, hoping his mother would ask about his day, or maybe want to hear one of his recent poems. At last, he got up, and even though they didn’t really notice, slunk like a rat out of the room.

  Three winding corridors and one wet stable later he was out behind the castle, where the ground rolled down with some hesitation and the lights of Sinki village could be seen in the distance. Hadi put his back on his familiar tree and sat down. The insects called. The breeze blew. Hadi couldn’t breathe, or gulp, or blink, or sigh. It all felt necessary at the same time, but he had the strength for none of them.

  Nisal came and sat down beside him.

  “My Lord,” she said, pointing a finger up in the air. It drew a thin line of fire — golden and lingering. The line became a slide, then grew wooden footrests, and water came coursing down its warm belly. Before she could paint the happy faces sliding down the bizarre ride, its upper third started to fade. She jerked her finger away to another spot, then, and with broad, great strokes, sketched a horse of fire in the air. Then a warrior. A proud, jovial one. A warrior of light, holding a sword, magical rifle slung on his back. It, too, petered away.

  “It’s okay,” Nisal murmured, dragging her fingers through his hair. “Today was bad. Really bad. I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Psh. I’m not a child, Nisal,” Hadi chuffed, and then couldn’t keep the pretense up anymore. Big drops of tears the size of small caterpillars came out of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and then all the rest of it, too.