Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (28 page)

ON THE SAME day that Jākita and Invictus met on the rooftop of Uccheda, Lucius and his companions fled the City of Thieves. Now the general of a newly formed army of Daasa, Lucius was both pleased and disturbed by the effectiveness of his soldiers: their ability to change rapidly into “meanies,” as Ugga had begun to call it, pleased Lucius, while their bloodthirstiness once they transformed disturbed him. With the destruction of the
Mahanta pEpa
, the Daasa had been freed from their psychic imprisonment. But it had been a grievous experience to watch gentle creatures become ruthless monsters.

Lucius and the others had gathered their weapons, packed what clothing and supplies they could find, and departed Duccarita through a crevice in the western wall with Bonny in the lead. Torg and Elu had gone ahead to scout, leaving Lucius and the others with ten thousand odd, but charming, companions.

Each of the Daasa had two purple eyes, a squat nose, and a wide mouth, which gave their facial features a human-like appearance. Their bodies, however, resembled pigs more than people, and they walked on four legs. Their spongy pink skin looked as tender as a baby’s bottom. Imagining such wondrous animals being maimed, tortured, cooked, and eaten was a blow to Lucius’ heart.

Endlessly curious and easily distracted, the Daasa took from noon until late afternoon just to get through the crevice and into the rugged terrain on the far side of the towering wall. About a dozen ruined Daasa, those unable to transform back to their original selves, remained in the city, watching with tormented eyes as their brothers and sisters left them behind. Apparently, they were unwelcome among the main group, destined to roam the deserted streets of Duccarita until their deaths.

“Why won’t they come with us?” Ugga said to Lucius.

“The other Daasa would kill them if they tried to follow,” Bonny said. “They do not like the path the few have taken.”

“How do you know this?” Lucius said.

“I know a lot about them,” the pirate woman said. Then she added, “I lived in Duccarita a long time.”

They walked until dusk. Then Lucius gathered his “troops,” planning to attempt a short speech to test their understanding and compliance. He stood on top of a hillock, his recently healed arm still throbbing, and cleared his throat.

The Daasa packed in as close as possible, seemingly fascinated by anything Lucius might do.

He started to say, “My good friends
 . . .
” But a blast of blue-green fire flared into the sky a short distance away and interrupted him.

A moment later, Torg and Elu came running out of a stand of trees, with a large band of Mogols and black mountain wolves in pursuit. Ugga snarled and started down the hillock. Bard would have followed, but he was still too weak from the effects of the dart. Lucius turned back to the Daasa, fearing a slaughter, but instead of seeing ten thousand frightened pink faces, he found himself looking into the eyes of a slavering host of monsters.

The Daasa had transformed instantly, their fangs clapping in unison, and they stampeded past Lucius like a herd of nightmarish Buffelo, their ferocity permitting neither pity nor remorse. In a short time the Mogols and wolves were reduced to a pile of shredded flesh and fur.

Tears streamed down Laylah’s cheeks. Rathburt bent over and vomited. Lucius could tell that the extent of the violence dismayed even Torg. But when the Daasa returned to the hillock, they transformed just as quickly to their original selves, except for the blood still dripping from their whiskers. Otherwise, they seemed as if nothing unusual had occurred.

“The meanies killed them all,” Ugga said with a kind of awe.

A pink Daasa came up and rubbed tenderly against the crossbreed’s leg.

Lucius watched Rathburt vomit again.

HE KNEW WHAT they were thinking:
Cowardly ol’ Rathburt, afraid of everything, can’t even stop from vomiting when there’s a little bloodshed.
But they didn’t know what
he
was thinking.

Rathburt could sense it in every shred of his being. When the Daasa transformed into monsters, pain consumed them—not ordinary pain, but an agony that transcended any Rathburt had previously experienced. They were not like the Warlish witches, who seemed equally comfortable in beauty or hideousness. At their core, the Daasa truly were good-natured beings, as gentle and benign as snow giants, but their violent conversions came with a price. Somewhere in their distant past, the Daasa had chosen to pay this price rather than perish as a species. In the forest beyond the ocean, evil also existed, and the Daasa had no other way to combat it but to change.

The pain fueled their anger.

Their strength.

Their guiltlessness.

But when they returned to their true selves, their memories of the agony were blessedly erased. Only in their ruined state did they remember. Only in their ruined state did they scream.

Why was he alone in knowing this? Lucius was their master; it should have been clear to him as well. Torg seemed to know everything
 . . .
why now was he ignorant?

They were asking the Daasa to do more than just fight. They were asking them to endure unimaginable suffering by becoming something contrary to their nature.

Why am I the only one who can see it
?

When Torg touched him, Rathburt almost swooned.

TORG APPROACHED Rathburt cautiously, sensing discomfort in his demeanor that went beyond ordinary disgust. It seemed obvious to him that his fellow Death-Knower was experiencing something the others were not. Torg placed his hand on Rathburt’s shoulder and willed a surge of healing energy into the gristle at the base of his neck.

Rather than take comfort, though, Rathburt cried out and spun away.

“What is it?” Torg said. “What do you see?”

Rathburt’s eyes were wide with fright, but he did not respond. Elu ran over and hugged his leg. At the same time, Bonny approached and patted Rathburt on the back.

“I feel like puking myself, after what I just saw,” she said. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Rathburt grunted. “It’s just me being me. I feel better now. There are more important things to worry about than my occasional bouts of nausea. Shouldn’t we be moving on? Surely there are more of them”—he nodded toward the shredded remains of the enemy—“nearby. We made enough of a ruckus to attract attention all the way to Avici.”

Torg eyed Rathburt quizzically for a moment, then turned to Lucius. “He’s right. We should get as far from here as we can. But now that the Daasa are with us, we have less need for stealth than before.”

“Can we rest just a little whiles, Master Hah-nah?” Ugga said. “Me dear Bard is still weak from the poisons. I could carry him, but I’m tired, too.”

“I’m feeling better,” Bard said in a tone that betrayed his words. “Anyways, it’s easier to walk than fight.”

“Let’s go,” Rathburt said. “The Daasa move slow enough, as is. For all we know, they might decide to wander off. What’s to keep them with us, now that the Great Evil has been slain?”

“I know I’m going to sound like Torg when I say this,” Lucius said, grinning at Rathburt, “but something inside me believes they will stay with us until I release them. They are grateful and loyal—and will fight to the death to defend us. They’ve proven that already, wouldn’t you say?”

“I agree,” Bonny said.

AS IT TURNED OUT, Bonny knew the foothills near Duccarita as well as Elu knew those near Kamupadana. After a long march, the pirate woman guided their large company into a hollow guarded by massive stacks of stone laced with natural shelters. The pink-skinned Daasa crawled into a myriad of crevices and huddled together, falling fast asleep. Apparently, even they needed rest. As for sustenance, Laylah had no idea how they would manage to feed so many, but they would have to face that problem in the morning.

From Laylah’s perspective, Bonny had turned out to be an invaluable addition to their company. But it wasn’t her skill in the wilds that was most attractive. Instead, it was the pirate’s obsession with Lucius that pleased Laylah. Bonny rarely left the firstborn’s side, constantly touching him and whispering in his ear; Lucius seemed to enjoy the attention, which drew his jealousy away from Laylah, much to her relief.

When Laylah went to fill her goatskin over a bubbling springhead near the center of the hollow, Bonny came and knelt beside her, pretending to fill her own skin. After a period of uncomfortable silence, the pirate finally said, “Can I ask you a question, woman to woman?”

“Is it about Lucius?”

Bonny blushed, then smiled, revealing crooked teeth that somehow made her round face look even prettier. “Is it that easy to see, missus?”

Laylah giggled. “To be honest
 . . .
yes.
But first things first. Please call me Laylah. And may I call you Bonny?”

“Of course, missus. Er
 . . .
Laylah, I mean.” She sighed and took a deep breath to calm herself. “Well, my question is, does Lucius have any
ties
to you? It’s easy to see the great wizard favors you, but what about Lucius? Am I intruding?”

Unexpectedly, Laylah’s eyes welled with tears.

Bonny drew back, startled. “Missus
 . . .
Laylah
 . . .
I’m sorry if I upset you. If you want me to stay away from him
 . . .
”

Amid her tears, Laylah began to giggle again. Then she gave Bonny a hug. “No
 . . .
no.
Please, don’t misunderstand. I’m not crying out of hurt or jealousy. It’s just that in the short time you’ve been with us, Lucius seems happier than I’ve ever seen him. I care about Lucius, but not in
that
way. I consider him a dear friend and want only the best for him. From what I can tell, you are exactly what he needs. It’s almost as if the two of you were born to be together.”

In reaction to Laylah’s words, the pirate woman stepped back and smiled. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Bonny said, a little too loudly.

“Oh, yes,” Laylah said. “I most certainly do.”

TORG HAD NO time for sleep, so he found a high vantage point, sat cross-legged on a ledge, and meditated. From centuries of practice, he quickly was able to focus his awareness on the rim of his nostrils and slow the rate of his breathing to nearly indiscernible levels.
Assaasa-passaaso rasso. Assaasa-passaaso majjhim. Assaasa-passaaso diggho.
(Short breath. Medium breath. Long breath.) He watched them all with utmost concentration, engorging his body with placidity. A short period of meditation revitalized him almost as much as a full night’s sleep.

A vision of a blue sky with drifting clouds entered his awareness. Like his worries and concerns, the clouds came and went, as impermanent as existence. As the meditation progressed, Torg came to realize that he again was capable of attempting
Sammaasamaadhi
, the supreme concentration of mind that resulted in temporary suicide. He noted this thought—and then returned to the breath.

Inhale
 . . .

Exhale
 . . .

Inhale
 . . .

Exhale
 . . .

Torg detected her presence before acknowledging it. Her slow climb up the rock face had been just one more point of concentration for him. Though Laylah had approached with a graceful silence rivaling that of a Tugar, he could sense her standing a few paces behind him. His love and lust for her swelled. He noted these emotions—and then returned to the breath.