Nīsa . . . well . . . was Asēkha.
On the day that the darkness finally receded and an overcast sky greeted the world, Lucius Annaeus and his companions commandeered a long-hulled galleon and a reluctant crew, which joined them more out of terror of the Daasa than anything else. The ship’s bones were worn and wrinkled, but improvements had been added to her frame to maintain her seaworthiness. She would do.
The Daasa rushed aboard without hesitation—and they pointed their pink snouts toward the massive expanse of salt sea.
It was obvious to all that the wondrous creatures wanted to go home.
13
AT NOON OF THE most beautiful spring day the Death-Knower had ever seen, Torg and Laylah climbed onto Bhojja’s back and left behind the House of Jord. Torg carried the Silver Sword in a scabbard on his back, as well as a skin of water and a small pack of food. Laylah held Obhasa in her right hand. The great jade mare sprang into a gallop that far surpassed the fastest stallion. Leagues passed in flashing moments, and both Torg and Laylah were lulled into sleep.
The clattering of hooves on stone woke them in the late afternoon. Bhojja had leapt the Golden Wall and was carrying them through the streets of Avici. Cheering Tugars ran alongside.
Dalhapa emerged from an alleyway, her uttara dripping dark blood. Bhojja slid to a sparking halt and cantered over to the young Asēkha.
“ Lord Torgon , well met!” Dalhapa shouted. “And you bring with you our queen.”
Laylah smiled and nodded.
“Well met,” Torg repeated. Then added: “Your blade . . .”
Dalhapa flicked off the blood. “Invictus transformed the citizenship of Avici into an army of fiends,” she explained. “Some still run amok, but far fewer than before. As far as we can tell, Invictus intended to spare none of his people, though we have found a few thousand ordinary folk cowering in closets and basements.”
Torg’s face grew sad. For a time he sat in silence. Finally, he said, “Where is Podhana? I must speak to him.”
“The chieftain has gone with the rest of the Asēkhas and Tugars to Kilesa. A company of Pabbajja marches with them. They are led by the snow giant.”
Torg gasped. “The snow giant . . . Deva?”
“Yes, lord. He survived the collapse of the tower. We rescued him from beneath the rubble, though that might be exaggerating things a bit. I’m sure he eventually would have found his way to the surface on his own.”
“Why did they go to Kilesa?” Laylah said.
“It was the snow giant’s desire,” Dalhapa said.
“We will go there,” Torg said, “and see what we shall see.”
“And what would you have us do in your absence?” Dalhapa said.
“Continue to scour the city and surrounding countryside. Let no fiend escape.”
“As you command.”
Without prompting, Bhojja raced away and passed first into the valley so that Torg and Laylah could witness the ruins of Uccheda. Laylah, especially, was stunned. Somehow the giant sycamore had survived the tower’s collapse, but it had lost most of its leaves, and those that remained on its branches were golden.
“How did Deva manage to escape being crushed?” Laylah said to Torg.
“When it comes to snow giants, nothing seems impossible.”
Bhojja headed eastward on the Golden Road, again reaching supernatural speed. The threesome arrived at Kilesa just after dusk. The sky was clear and filled with stars, though the tiny sliver of moon had already set. The mare thundered down a maze of streets and alleyways, finally approaching a large group of Tugars gathered outside a pair of broken doors. Bhojja bade her riders to dismount, and then she transformed into Jord and adorned herself in magical robes.
The trio entered and descended the passageway. Desert warriors led them past the carnage to the metal platforms, and the three of them plunged into darkness before emerging in the birthing chambers of the newborns. When they came upon Podhana and the snow
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