It was a thin, battered old book bound in leather.
"Nerisa and I stole this from Umurhan's library, Gundara said. She gave it to me to hold for you."
Safar looked closer. He caught his breath. On the cover, in worn gold leaf, was a familiar symbol.
"It's Lord Asper's book, Gundara said. The one you were looking for. Then he vanished into the stone.
Fingers trembling, Safar opened the book. It took him a few moments to translate the scratchings. Then the words jumped out as if they were alive:
"Long, long have I bewailed this world. Long, long have I mourned our fates. Swords unsheathed, banners unfurled, Charge the ramparts fired with hate. 'Slay the humans! we all cried. 'Drive the devils from our lands!' I shouted the loudest, but I shouted a lie. I feared to tell them all were damned! Demon and human from a single womb, Bound for Hadin where once I spied A common death and a common tomb…
Safar grunted in frustration. Insects had destroyed the rest of the page.
He flipped the leaves. A few were damaged, most were not, but the rest of the book seemed to consist of magical formulas and scribbled notes, with other bits of poetry here and there. It would take much time to decipher the demon wizard's formulas and notes. But at least he'd finally found somethingor someoneto point the way.
He thought of Nerisa. Actually, she'd never been far from his mind. Not a day passed when her face, with its huge sad eyes and crooked little grin, didn't rise up to haunt him. He smiled, thinking this bookAsper's bookwas her final gift to him.
Outside his room he heard Leiria approach. He put the book away.
Poor Leiria, he thought. Two dead women for rivals, instead of one.
The army marched a week later, Iraj at its head and Safar at his side. Sampitay's citizens turned out for the march, lining the main road and shouting praises and well wishes to the Good King Protarus.
Not long after another city fell, adding to the jewels in his crown. Iraj dealt with this city like Sampitay, following Safar's advice on the treatment of its citizens and the manner of government. A month went by, a month filled with conquests. Some were bloody, some were not.
Then winter came and Iraj's army took up camp. There was plenty of fuel for fire and plenty of food and drink. Messengers came and went, caravans crept over the snow, carrying gold from the tax gatherers to fill Iraj's treasure house.
But the king was moody, pacing the grounds and staring out across the distance at the Gods Divide, cursing all the cold days that remained until spring.
And he swore to his friend and Grand Wazier, Lord Safar Timura, that he would march for the mountains when the first green buds burst from the ground.
PART FOUR
The Demon Wars
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE THE
It was the largest military gathering in the history of Esmir.
A demon armyhalf-a-million strongformed up along the edges of the Forbidden Desert, armor glowing in the pale spring sun. It looked like an enormous dragon with glittering scales and outstretched wings, poised to take flight to ravage the human lands. Whole forests of spears, pikes and archers formed its body. Huge baggage trains of arms and supplies made its tail. Trumpeting elephants and snarling cavalry mounts, mixed with the rattle of weapons and the shrieks of campfollowers gave it a voice.
Forming its head were ten thousand mounted troops, commanded by Crown Prince Luka.
It was an elite force, composed of the finest young demons in the land. All were of noble blood and all were anxious to shed that blood for Gods and King. They'd been whipped into a fighting frenzy and were impatient for the signal launching them across the desert. They grumbled loudly at any and all delays, gnashing their fangs and casting anxious yellow eyes at their adored Crown Prince, who was at the moment conferring with his father, King Manacia, and his Chief Wazier, Lord Fari.
The prince, pretending to be completely absorbed by his father's final words before the campaign began, heard their grumbling and hated them for it.
He couldn't imagine why they were so anxious to rush off to meet their Makers. The prince didn't care if they all died the most horrible of deaths. What he objected to strongly was he was expected to share their fates. He thought, they're all so inbred you could poke out both eyes with a single talon. They're all balls and no brains. They had thick necks with small heads, whose only purposeas far as Luka could determinewas to carry a helmet. Why oh why, do the gods hate me so?
"The first part of the campaign rests squarely on you, my son, King Manacia was saying.
"Pardon, Majesty? Luka said. I'm sorry, but I'm finding it difficult to concentrate. I confess I was dreaming of the victories my troops and I will lay at your feet once we are in the humanlands."
Manacia exposed his fangs in a proud grin. What a fighting prince I have for a son, Fari, the king said to his Chief Wazier. He's so anxious to be off slaying humans he's barely heard a word I said."
Fari bobbed his head, old snout wrinkling into a smile. Indeed, Your Highness, Fari said, putting claws to chest as he spoke and then adding one his favorite stock phrases: Prince Luka is an example to us all."
Luka caught the gleam of amusement in the ancient demon's eyes. Fari could read his heart and was delighted at the prince's predicament. You old bastard, Luka thought. I swear I'll live just to spite you. No matter what it takes I'll survive to piss on your grave and shit on my father's.
"It's his mother's hot blood in him, Manacia said. Then, to Luka, Did I ever tell you about the time your dear lamented mother accused me of raping her?"
"I don't believe you did, Majesty, the prince lied. I'd be most anxious to hear that tale."
Manacia burst out laughing at the memory. It was after she tried to stab me and I had to tie her down, he chortled. She… She…"
The king broke off, calming himself. He wiped an eye and resettled his crown, which had been shaken over one ear from his laughter.
"Never mind, Manacia said. We have more important business at claw. I'll save the tale for some night in the future when we're all gathered about a good campfire, sharing a roasted human haunch."
He jabbed at a map, drawing their attention back to the final planning session.
"I want you to cross the desert just as quickly as you can, Luka, the king said. Ride like the winds. Don't stop for anything. And when you're on the other side I want you to secure a basecamp.
"Give the area a good scrub, mind you. If you see humans, kill them. In fact, it would be best if you scouted out a good fifty miles around the camp. Destroy any settlements you find and make sure no humans escape to spread the news of our invasion. We want to retain the element of surprise as long as we can.
"Once I have my army set and the supply lines secured, we'll roll over them like an eight-beast chariot run amok in the market place. Within six months I predict we'll be at the sea, enjoying a good fish dinner."
Luka bowed. And it will be my great honor, Majesty, he said, to cook your meal with my own claws. But he thought, If I have the chance I'll stuff it so full of poison it'll make your scales fall off, you filthy old coward, you.
Manacia rolled up the map and handed it to an obsequious aide, who dropped to his knees and knocked his bony forehead on the rocky ground before withdrawing in a backwards crawl.
"There's only the casting of the bones remaining, Fari, he said. Then I'll give the signal for the march to begin. Assuming all bodes well, of course."
He glowered at the wizard when he said the last, making it quite obvious what would happen to Fari if the casting did not meet his liking.