Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (21 page)

Balak was the shortest and longest of the three: fifty cubits tall, thirty thick, and more than four leagues in circumference, surrounding all of Nissaya. Its crenellated battlement was fitted with thick wooden shutters that could be held open with iron props or removed entirely, depending on the course of the battle, and it also contained numerous loopholes for archers. Fifty trebuchets on the wall walk could be rolled into different positions, depending on the placement of the enemy far below. On its interior side, several hundred sets of stone stairs led up from the narrow walkway at its base to accommodate its guardians.

Balak contained just a single entrance, thirty cubits wide and tall, that was guarded by a stone door as thick as a man was tall. The door, which was said to weigh seventy thousand stones, took more than half a day to be mechanically raised or lowered. Behind the door were five iron portcullises flanked by “murder holes” in the ceiling of the entryway from which defenders could unload an avalanche of debris onto any that might have performed the seemingly impossible task of crashing down the door.

Balak and Ott stood one hundred cubits apart and were separated by a moat filled with black water, concealing thousands of razor-sharp spikes. Anyone or anything that fell into the moat was unlikely to survive.

Four wooden drawbridges spanned the moat. The largest was directly behind the gate, and it was wide and strong enough to hold four wagons abreast. During peace time, this bridge remained lowered except for repairs; but during a siege, it was raised to prevent the enemy from crossing the moat. The defenders of the wall used the other three drawbridges to cross the moat back and forth.

Ott was identical in design to Balak, except twice its size with twice the number of trebuchets. A stone walk five cubits wide encircled the outside of its base, allowing just enough room for the movement of troops around the moat. Ott also contained just one door, though it was twice as large as Balak’s with ten portcullises protecting the tunneled entryway.

No moat or other obstruction lay between the second and third walls. None was needed. Just twenty cubits of open space separated the walls. Any enemy who somehow managed to breach the second wall would then be caught between Ott and Hakam, where it would be bombarded with arrows, stones, boiling water, acidic liquids, quicklime, and burning oil—an untenable situation, to say the least, that was made even more difficult by the immensity of Hakam, which dwarfed all other bulwarks on Triken.

Hakam was two hundred cubits tall and one hundred and twenty thick. Due to its great height, its battlement contained just a single low wall with no crenellations or trebuchets. Only a bowman of extraordinary strength and ability could hope to strike effectively at someone so high above.

Hakam’s only weakness was its single door, if you could call such a masterwork a weakness. The door was twelve cubits thick and weighed three hundred thousand stones. Twenty portcullises stood behind the door within the tunneled entryway, and there were chambers above the iron grates that contained enough rubble to clog the passage if the main door were somehow defeated.

Within the third bulwark stood the inhabited portion of the fortress, a titanic labyrinth of roads, alleys, courtyards and buildings. Some of the buildings were made of ordinary brick and wood; others were natural stone towers with hollow interiors. At this point, the labyrinth ascended so steeply that the buildings toward the center stood even higher above the floor of the gap than Hakam.

In some ways Nissaya was as much a city as a fortress, and it could house—on a temporary basis—more than one hundred thousand, in addition to its army and populace. There were hundreds of markets, mills, taverns, and shops, and the large business district hosted armorers, goldsmiths, shoemakers, oil merchants, wine sellers, and numerous craftsmen and makers of wares. Throughout the interior there were courtyards large enough to sleep thousands.

At the center of the fortress, the great keep of Nissaya rose like a titanic spire into the sky. Nagara it was called, which meant
citadel
in the ancient tongue, and it was second in size only to the tower of Invictus. The keep was a natural formation of black granite as huge as the arm of a god, its interior laced with passageways and chambers, most of which had formed naturally over the passage of time long before humans existed on Triken. But some of the chambers had been chiseled and molded over the millennia to better accommodate its most-recent inhabitants.

On its exterior, Nagara was pockmarked with hundreds of natural windows, causing it to resemble a mountainous termite mound. At ground level, it had four massive wooden doors, each protected by a portcullis. Behind these doors were boulders that could be rolled and chained into place, plugging the openings as securely as cave-ins. And even then, there remained a final method of escape. A passageway descended into the bedrock, winding for many leagues in damp darkness and leading to chambers where large quantities of food were stored and deep pools of potable water existed, even during times of drought.

Over the millennia, the knights had explored the tunnels, mapping every rise and fall, twist and turn. They could walk in the dark like the cleverest of blind men, navigating their surroundings without the use of sight, even though some of the caverns were thousands of cubits tall and wide with precipitous cliffs offering certain death to anyone wandering the pathways without foreknowledge of their meanderings.

The Nissayans had delved deep—too deep, some said—and had uncovered many mysteries in the hidden bowels of the world. Dangerous creatures still resided in the farthest depths, but the knights—who reigned supreme over the fortress, both above and below—had destroyed or chased away most of the monsters.

The conjurers of Nissaya had wandered with the black knights and brought back great wealth, including all manner of precious metals and jewels. They found pockets of black iron to forge their weapons and armor, and black crystal, resembling obsidian in color and feel, which glowed brightly when brushed by magic or flame. The knights and conjurers named the crystal
Maōi
and prized it above all else.

Among the people of Triken, it was said that the knights of Nissaya had not always been black-skinned. Some believed they were descendants of the pale-skinned Jivitans whose prolonged exposure to the ebony stone had stained their skin and hair. Others believed the knights had not even begun their existence as humans; rather, they were black bears or panthers that had evolved over the millennia, taking on human form in order to better defend their beloved fortress. Still others believed the knights were spirits of the stone in the guise of men and women.

The Nissayans believed none of these things. They were intricate recorders of history, especially in terms of their purebred ancestry, and their vast libraries contained the names and descriptions of every man and woman who was ever born of uncorrupted Nissayan blood. Like the Tugars and Jivitans, the Nissayans preferred the company of their own kind, and it was considered uncouth to breed outside their race. The purity of their physical appearance—including the marvelous color of their skin—was sacred to their order. The few who dared to produce children with outsiders faced banishment.

The religious aspects of the Nissayan culture also were highly prized. They disdained the beliefs of others—not so much out of disrespect but out of an all-encompassing conviction that their way of thinking was indisputable. Their neighbors, the Jivitans, believed in the
One God
, whom they saw as an omniscient being that had created humans in his own image. The Tugars believed in karma, in which all behaviors resulted in consequences and in which living beings existed in an endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. The savages of Mahaggata believed that gods existed in nature, and they worshipped the stars and the entities of the world in equal measure. The followers of Invictus venerated only the sorcerer, who proclaimed himself God.

The Nissayans, of course, knew the truth. There was a single God, but he/she/it was not a male deity resembling humans in appearance.
Uppādetar,
the Creator, was the loving energy that existed in all things, whether living or inert. God was beyond nature and beyond the stars, paying no interest to the petty machinations of mortals. Instead, God drove all goodness, and for that reason was to be worshipped and revered. Who could possibly believe otherwise, when there was so much proof in existence itself?

The Jivitans and Tugars shared many of Nissaya’s views on morality, so the black knights tolerated them. The Mogols of Mahaggata did not, so the black knights despised them. And Invictus was the ultimate evil, so they were determined to resist him at any cost. But the Nissayans saw themselves as the true champions of good and were incensed that their allies did not gather enthusiastically behind their banner to counter the sorcerer’s first—and greatest—strike.

Chieftain-Kusala knew all these things in immense detail. He had visited the fortress many times during his centuries-long life, and he was well aware of its strengths and weaknesses, both literally and figuratively. The Nissayan kings seemed close-minded to anything other than the welfare of the fortress, and King Henepola X was no exception. In fact, he was the most prideful of the Nissayan sovereigns that Kusala had encountered. Even Torg had said so—several times to Henepola’s face. But what the king lacked in diplomacy, he made up for in power. Henepola was the first of his bloodline to be born with the innate magic of a conjurer. As far as Kusala was concerned, if anyone other than Torg could stand against Invictus, it was Henepola.

As Kusala, Utu, and Palak approached the first gate, the darkness deepened. But the road was lined with torches, providing plentiful light. Thousands cheered their arrival, including the Tugars among them, who bowed before Kusala as if he were a king.

Despite the raucous welcome, Kusala was unable to enjoy the moment, mainly because of the presence of Yama-Utu. The snow giant still seemed in awe of his surroundings, but it was one thing to be well-received among the masses, and another to be respectfully greeted by the king. Since his encounter with the Pabbajja, the snow giant seemed more in control of his emotions, but Kusala still didn’t trust his combustibility. If Henepola were insulting, would Utu lose his temper? If so, would there be bloodshed in the hall of Nagara? Kusala feared the worst.

Commander Palak rode a few paces ahead, his black destrier clopping along proudly. The enthusiastic greeting seemed to thrill the Nissayan commander, and Kusala could see that—“senior” commander or not—Palak was not used to being treated with such reverence. Though Nissaya now boasted more than thirty thousand knights and another twenty thousand sergeants and squires, its high court was disproportionately small and—in Kusala’s opinion—heavily weighted by those who agreed with everything the king said. Henepola was not one for open discourse.

“Behold the glory of Nissaya!” Palak shouted at Kusala and Utu.

Just then a company of knights emerged from the first gate, flanked by men bearing Nissayan banners: black flags with white lightning bolts outlined in gray, the bolts symbolizing the puissance of
Uppādetar
, the gray his minions, the black his dominion.

At the head of the company rode a woman and a man, both clad in glistening black armor. The woman’s hair was as black as the surrounding stone, much like a Tugar’s, but it hung past her waist, shiny as silk. The man’s ebony skin mirrored those around him, but his hair—almost as long as the woman’s—was the same color as the snow giant’s mane: a stunning alabaster. Of course, Kusala recognized them: Henepola’s only daughter, Princess Madiraa; and a powerful conjurer named Indajaala. All true conjurers of Nissaya had white hair.

Kusala had always admired Madiraa, who was almost as strong in body and mind as a Tugarian female. Indajaala was another story.

The company halted just outside the gates and remained atop their mounts, awaiting the trio’s approach. Palak urged his destrier forward, riding toward Princess Madiraa with the confidence of a man bearing excellent news.

Kusala and Utu followed the commander on foot.

The daughter of the king spoke first. “Welcome, Commander Palak. I see that you bring guests to Nissaya. Have they come to strengthen our arms or brighten our halls?”

Palak also remained mounted, but he bowed slightly while still in his high saddle. “My lady, my guests shall do both,” he said with laughter. “Chieftain-Kusala, of course, requires no introduction. But his companion has traveled far to join us. Allow me to present Yama-Utu, a snow giant from Okkanti and mighty among his kind. He offers his assistance in the war against Mala. His arrival is indeed a boon for our people.”

At these words, the conjurer rose in his saddle. He held a glowing spike of
Maōi
in his thick black hand.

“Only our king can determine whether this beast’s presence is boon or calamity,” Indajaala snapped. “Or have you become so proud, Commander Palak, that you believe
you
speak for Nissaya?”

Palak lowered his head in obeisance.

Utu growled just loud enough for Kusala to hear. Kusala sensed trouble, but it was Madiraa who regained control of a potentially volatile situation.

“Nonsense,” the princess said to the conjurer. “Palak does not need our king’s permission to be pleased by the arrival of a snow giant. A being of such greatness should not be treated with scorn.”

Madiraa then cast her gaze upon Utu. “You are most welcome in Nissaya. Though I must admit I’m surprised you have come. I’ve never heard of a snow giant leaving Okkanti—willingly.”

Utu’s lips curled, exposing the full length of his fangs. “I am here for one reason—to destroy Mala, who was once my brother. He is a bane that must be eliminated.”

Indajaala spoke again, as if to prove that he was not easily cowed, either by a princess or a giant. “And who is to say that you are not a bane, as well? Who is to say you are not like your brother? If rumors are to be believed, your kind succumbs easily to the guiles of the sorcerer.”

Kusala stepped between Utu and Indajaala, convinced the snow giant would pounce upon the conjurer and tear him to pieces. Instead, Utu lowered his head and sighed. “Easily?” the snow giant said softly. “Yet succumb he did. Will I? That is yet to be seen.”

Madiraa whirled toward Indajaala and spat at the ground beneath his destrier. “Enough!” she said, drawing a heavy black sword from her scabbard and whipping it above her head in an impressive display of strength. “If you say one more foul word to our guest, I will strike you down.”

For a moment, the conjurer smiled wickedly, but then his defiance wavered. Indajaala turned his horse and spurred it through the first gate, galloping wildly in the direction of the keep. Several of the company followed, but most stayed with the princess. She sheathed her sword and dismounted, walking over to Kusala. Though she was three spans shorter than the chieftain and barely a third the giant’s height, she did not appear small. Her pride enlarged her presence.