Forged In Death, Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles (10 page)

“That does not surprise me. You are
Adho Satta
. There are forces at work beyond your comprehension. But
The Torgon
knows and understands. I brought you back for his sake, not for yours.”

“What would Vedana have done to me?”

“Who knows? The demon’s machinations are often beyond my comprehension. But now that I have rescued you, it has become unimportant. As I said before, you and I have a common goal. This makes us allies, at least temporarily.”

“Why were you away so long? Torg might already be dead.”

Bhayatupa’s face—which seemed capable of very human-like expressions—appeared distressed. “I returned to Avici and flew in the skies,” the dragon said in his sonorous voice. “I did not wish for the sorcerer to become overly suspicious. But he called for me. And questioned me. I was severely tested.” Bhayatupa’s huge round eyes glazed over. At that moment he looked like a wizened king, troubled by the state of his realm. When he spoke again his voice almost trembled. “Let us say that our situation has grown more urgent. I have underestimated Invictus. For the first time, I felt
 . . .
fear
.”

Sōbhana saw an opportunity and seized it. “Then why not join our cause? Perhaps you and
The Torgon
can defeat Invictus together.”

Quicker than an Asēkha, Bhayatupa grasped her in his front talons and rose on his hind legs to his full height. At that point Sōbhana was higher than the pinnacle of the mountain.

Bhayatupa’s eyes reverted from glazed to fiery and dangerous. “Join your cause? And what
cause
might that be,
Adho Satta
? The cause of insects and worms? You do not comprehend to whom you speak. I am Bhayatupa, the
Mahaasupanna,
mightiest of all dragons, and I am beyond you. You live only because I am in need of your master’s wisdom. But my patience has limits. Do not insult me like that again.”

He cast her down onto the balcony, and she thudded on the stone. Cowed by the dragon’s outburst, the Mogols threw themselves onto their stomachs and pressed their faces against the cave floor. Sōbhana lay stunned, temporarily unable to move.

“Bring her the sword, and dress her,” the dragon said to the servant woman. “Her nakedness disturbs me. Be quick!”

Bhayatupa turned back to Sōbhana. His anger seemed to fade as quickly as it had arisen, and his voice returned to relative normalcy. “If you are sincere in your desire to save your king, then I am your only hope. Time grows short. You and I must fly to Asubha now.”

Bhayatupa flew at heights above the mountaintops. The air was so thin Sōbhana found it difficult to breathe. At least she wasn’t cold. The fragrant flesh beneath the dragon’s crimson scale kept her comfortable.

She held the sword in a scabbard at her waist and pondered the extent of its power. Did it possess the strength to destroy what she considered one of the world’s great evils? Even if it did, she was helpless to act. If she killed the dragon, Torg would be doomed.

“I hear your thoughts, warrior,” Bhayatupa said, his voice superseding all other sound. “Save your strength. You will need it for the ordeal that awaits you.”

“Tell me all that you know of Asubha,” Sōbhana shouted into the wind. “I need to know what I am up against, if I am to succeed.”

“An excellent
suggestion.
Indeed, it is time for me to tell you my plan. Your lord’s life hangs in the balance.”

“Speak, then. I grow weary of you, and I no longer fear you. If
The Torgon
were here now, he would order me to forsake this quest and drive the sword into your heart.”

“You have grown,
Adho Satta.
You remain
Adho Satta
, but at least you now are high among the low.”

“Thank you
so
much, O Exalted One. May you die soon, for all our sakes.”

“How quaint
 . . .
and I was under the impression that you enjoyed being my wife.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I find it so. But enough prattle. You must listen carefully. I have time to say these words only once. Asubha is not far.”

“Once is enough.”

“It had better be. Now hush, and allow me to finish. This is what you will face. The prison is not heavily guarded—at least, you would not consider it so—because it is inaccessible to almost anyone who cannot fly. For this reason, Invictus does not fear attack. There are just enough sentries to manage the prisoners, fewer than five score, all told. You killed that many at Uccheda.”

“This sounds too easy,” Sōbhana said.

“If only that was true. Nevertheless, there is more. I believe Mala remains at the prison. That alone makes your task far more difficult. And the warden also presents problems. He is a Stone-Eater named Gulah. Are you familiar with these creatures?”

“Of course. I’m not a complete fool.”

“Then you know of their powers. Gulah is not as great as Mala, but he would be a severe test for you, nonetheless. Invictus also keeps several trolls on hand to do the heavy lifting. And I have described only that which lies
within
the prison walls. There are dangers in the skies, as well. Four wild Sampatis hunt from above, and there are hundreds of ordinary condors. To me, they are annoying pests. But any one of them could be deadly to you. Even if you manage to avoid them, they can cause enough commotion to betray your position. Stealth and secrecy are your greatest allies.”

“I have trained my entire life for this moment. There are few more prepared than I.”

“As you say. I do not doubt that you are somewhat worthy.”

“Why, Bhayatupa
 . . .
that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me. There is hope for you yet.”

“My hope lies trapped in the pit of Asubha,” the dragon said. “The last hope, perhaps, of my long life.”

The dragon flew silently for a brief time. Then he spoke again. “There is one final danger—and next to Mala it is the worst. An ancient evil dwells near Asubha’s peak. Her name is Dukkhatu, and she appears as a great horned spider, terrible to behold. Only Vedana and I have survived the passage of more days than she.”

“I have never heard of Dukkhatu,” Sōbhana said. “But I admit that my learning is not what it should be. I have always focused too much on fighting.”

“It is probable that even your lord has not heard of Dukkhatu. In recent times she has shied from the lower lands. Millennia ago she hunted among the foothills of Mahaggata, feeding on the unwary. Hundreds of brave warriors tried to slay her and failed. Her hide is tougher than iron, and her fangs are full of foul poisons. In her old age, she wearied of battle and retired to the highest peaks. Recently, much to her pleasure, she discovered Asubha. Food is her obsession, and the prison provides her with plenty of fresh meat. She waits and watches. You must avoid her.”

Sōbhana shivered. “Is this sword capable of killing her?”

“Child, do you not know? It is capable of destroying
anything
. It was here before Dukkhatu. Before Bhayatupa. Before Vedana. Before memory. The Silver Sword, though mundanely named, is more valuable than any treasure on Triken. In and of itself, the blade contains no special magic. But it will hack or pierce anything it touches. No shield, hide, or demon flesh—not even a dragon’s scale—can withstand a direct blow.”

“And you left it lying in a pile, as if it were a trinket,” Sōbhana said. “Are you saying it could destroy Invictus?”

“The best hiding places are often the least likely,” Bhayatupa said. “As for Invictus, he has grown beyond the bounds of my awareness. And those are words I have never before spoken.”

“Maybe one day I’ll find out. Maybe one day I’ll put the sword to the sorcerer’s throat.”

“Perhaps,” the dragon said. “But in my heart, I do not believe so. That fate lies with someone else.”

For a while longer they did not speak. Darkness consumed the sky, but there was light all about. The moon was huge and full, and the stars sparkled like white crystals on a black coverlet. Sōbhana felt as if she could touch them.

The icy air on the warrior’s face froze her tears.

“What will become of me?” she said.

“I care naught,” the dragon said. “I care only for myself. Have I not said so before?”

Without warning to those
in the prison below, a condor fell from the sky and smote the floor of the large courtyard that contained the pit. The bloodied bird flopped about and squawked insanely, both its wings brutally broken.

While the diversion occupied the sentries, Bhayatupa circled and approached the prison from below. With the grace of a hummingbird, he hovered at the base of the thick wall that partially enclosed the peak of the frozen mountain. The dragon gently placed Sōbhana on the roughly hewn stone, which contained numerous lumps and cracks, good for gripping. Then he swerved away, quiet as a breeze.

Before they reached the prison, Bhayatupa had told Sōbhana he had to go back to Avici for a brief time to avoid further suspicion. She was on her own until midnight of the following day, when he promised to return under cover of darkness and fly her and Torg to safety.

The outcome of the quest rested in her hands, and her entire being was consumed with a desire to rush to Torg’s rescue. But she had to remain patient for a little while longer.

Sōbhana had never been afraid of heights, but there was a first time for everything, as her Vasi master liked to say. Though it now was deep night, the full moon and abundant starlight made it possible to see long distances. Asubha and its sister mountains glowed like luminaries. Sōbhana looked down past her feet and trembled. She could see for several hundred fathoms, but the floor of the abyss was invisible. She needed to find a place to hide. Too much was going on inside the prison for her to attempt anything this night—and daytime would be impossible.

She heard the final shriek of the stricken condor, which Bhayatupa had disabled to distract the sentries on the wall walk, and then the cheering of men inside the prison. The sound of Mala’s nauseating voice further disheartened her. Bhayatupa had been right. The Chain Man had remained in Asubha.

“Start a fire, lads. But first serving goes to me. I like my meat
raw
.”

Sōbhana rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure which she disliked more about Mala: his evil deeds or his obnoxious personality. She began to climb slowly up the wall. Her luck held, and she found a hollow in the stone just large enough to provide concealment. She pulled her dark coat around her body and felt reflexively for the Silver Sword. Its presence comforted her, and she allowed herself to sleep.

Some time later,
Sōbhana stirred,
then sat up with a gasp, sensing something beneath her though she saw nothing. Was it the spider? She dared not sleep again. She was weary beyond measure, but she would have to stay awake through the rest of the night. Sliding the sword from its sheath, she held it in front of her, awaiting the succor of daylight.

Meanwhile, the men inside the prison shouted and laughed. The smell of roasting bird flesh wafted in the still air. Sōbhana’s mouth watered.

When daylight arrived she allowed herself some scattered moments of sleep. The uneasy feeling of being watched dissipated. Perhaps the spider couldn’t tolerate sunlight.

It became clear, bright, and unseasonably warm—all unusual events in autumn on the peak of Asubha, Sōbhana imagined. She ate a light meal from a pack attached to the belt of her scabbard, and she sipped water from a leather flask. She could hear sentries strolling along the top of the wall. They sounded pleased. The previous night’s feast and the rare pleasant weather must have put them in good spirits—or as good as spirits could be in a place as dismal as this.

By early afternoon the weather had changed for the worse. A stiff wind came from the north, running in circles around the mountaintop. Dark clouds followed. Another storm, most likely born in Nirodha, where few dared wander, marched toward Asubha. The sentries grumbled.

Though she shivered in her tiny hideaway, Sōbhana was otherwise pleased. If the storm raged into the night, it would provide the camouflage she needed to complete Torg’s rescue.

When darkness came, the storm fell upon the mountain like a fiend. Sōbhana had never felt such ferocious winds or seen such virulent lightning. She feared she might not make it to the top of the wall, much less reach the pit. To make matters worse, it was wickedly cold. Ice crystals spun in the air like a million miniature daggers, obscuring the moon and stars. Frequent blasts of lightning provided fleeting moments of visibility, during which she looked about in all directions, studying her surroundings. As she peered from her hiding place, hail pelted her. The walls above her were coated with a glaze of ice. Would she have to wait out the storm before attempting her ascent?

She did not allow herself to be distracted by the specter of the spider. Could the beast hunt in weather like this? She didn’t know. But Dukkhatu probably was adapted to the cold, so Sōbhana knew she had to be careful. The spider might try to grab her as soon as she began to climb.

Still Sōbhana could not be daunted. She would rely on her innate ability to sense unseen danger. If she perceived Dukkhatu’s presence in time, the sword would do the rest. And if she fell, her role in all this would no longer matter.

When she could bear to wait no longer, she got to her knees, faced the wall, and leaned backward just far enough to see beyond the upper lip of her hideaway. From where she knelt, it was thirty cubits or so to the top of the wall. Under these tumultuous conditions, it might as well have been three hundred.

For a moment despair overcame her. It could take her until midnight just to get over the wall, much less reach the center of the courtyard, free Torg from the pit, and get him to a place where the dragon could rescue them. To accomplish this feat, killing would be necessary—quiet killing. She had assumed her ascent of the wall would take very little of the time she had left. Now it was obvious that it would be a much larger challenge than she had anticipated.