Peter Brett - The Daylight War

‘Even common demons must be respected,’ he said, though he knew she had already won. ‘Forget that for an instant, and even the Damajah can be killed.’ He reached out, sliding his hand under the vaporous silks to caress the smooth skin between her breasts, feeling the beat of her heart. ‘Chosen of Everam or not, we are but flesh and blood.’

Inevera moved into his caress, snaking her own hands into his robes. ‘I will not forget, beloved.’ She traced her fingers over the wards she had cut into his chest. ‘But do not forget that as you have your protections, I have my own.’

Jardir smiled. ‘Of that, I have no doubt.’

They left the palace together, Inevera resting in a palanquin atop a camel and Jardir on his white charger. They were followed by the amazed stares of everyone they passed, but none dared speak a word of protest.

Despite his words, Jardir did not truly fear for his bride. Most of the demons had been cleared from his territory, and the thin remainder served as little more than a training exercise for his men.

Everam’s Bounty was built like the head of a sunflower with the city proper as its centre, spreading out into vast petals of farm and pasture. The central city was Jardir’s personal territory, and tribe neutral. It consisted of an inner walled district surrounded by a much larger outer city. The petals he had given to the tribes according to their size. The Kaji, Majah, and Mehnding controlled huge territories of individually warded farmland and villages. The smaller tribes were given as much land as they could hold, and to spare. Even so, there were chin villages on the outskirts that had yet to fully take the yoke, simply because there were not enough Sharum and dama to minister them.

Many of Jardir’s warriors remained spread over these territories — both a weakness and a strength. Decentralizing his forces weakened them in some ways, but it made it as difficult for the alagai to choose targets as it was for him to guess where they would strike hardest. Each tribe had its own strongholds and was responsible for seeing as many of its people and as much of its produce as possible through the Waning. But all sent Jayan a tithe of their best men to defend the capital.

Jayan was at the training grounds when they arrived, supervising the muster of these elite warriors. His white turban singled him out from a distance, surrounded by his white-veiled kai’Sharum . Asome was with him, leading the men in prayer to almighty Everam before the sun set and Nie’s abyss opened.

The two men looked up at their approach, and despite their rivalry, Jardir could not deny his pleasure at seeing his eldest sons standing together, leading his forces. As children they had dreamed of being Sharum Ka and Andrah, a dream shared by their father. Already, Jayan had taken his title, and Asome was readying for his.

Jayan bowed deeply, but his disapproval was clear as he eyed his mother, outside after the dama had sung the curfew. Asome likely shared his opinion, but the younger man’s face was blank, revealing nothing. Jayan had learned well the strategy and fighting skills of the dama in Sharik Hora, but their discipline had been a harder lesson. Not for the first time, Jardir wondered at the wisdom of giving him the white turban when he was so young. It was difficult to teach a man discipline when he already sat a throne.

‘Your warriors stand ready for inspection, Father,’ Jayan said. While not skilled at hiding his feelings, he wasn’t fool enough to disrespect his mother by speaking his thoughts aloud. It was not out of respect for his father — though they both knew Jardir would not hesitate to put the boy down should he think himself above the Damajah. Inevera had instilled fear of her own into her sons, and even now they grew chill at the notion of disobedience.

None of your sons is worthy , the dice had said, and in his heart Jardir knew it to be true. With the magic of the crown and spear strengthening him and keeping him young, Jardir might live for centuries, as did Kaji. But he was not fool enough to fail to prepare for his death. If he could not find an heir to take his place as Shar’Dama Ka, perhaps he could leave Jayan the spear and Asome the crown. Again he wondered at the secret Inevera was keeping from him. Who was the other she had seen?

Inevera took in the assembled warriors, and Jardir felt himself swell with pride. In the years since he had taken the white turban of Sharum Ka, he had built them up with blood and sweat from a loose group of shrinking tribal militias to an elite fighting force unified in purpose and growing exponentially in number.

Even the assembled kha’Sharum and chi’Sharum were marching with precision. He had been amazed at how effective the khaffit warriors had proven, and while most greenlanders remained soft and cowardly, many were finding their hearts. The rest would slow the alagai long enough for his real warriors to slaughter them, and go to Everam clean of spirit.

He looked to Inevera, but she only shrugged. ‘It is as I expected. Let us tour the defences.’

Jardir tried not to feel stung as he turned to Jayan and Asome. ‘The inner city is yours tonight, my sons. We will range as the Damajah wills. The Spears of the Deliverer will see to our protection.’

Inevera touched his arm. ‘I would feel safer, beloved, with our sons leading our honour guard.’

Jardir looked at her curiously, wishing the sun would set so he could pierce the veil of serenity on her face to find the truth of her intentions. At last he shrugged.

Jayan turned, giving last orders to his kai’Sharum . Immediately the units began to break out of the training ground on their way to their posts.

Asome bowed deeply. ‘It is our honour to escort our divine mother.’ He called for his horse, a white charger like the one his father rode, save for a black diamond at its forehead. Jayan signalled for his, a black charger with white fetlocks and muzzle. They flanked Jardir and Inevera as they rode, followed in turn by the Spears of the Deliverer on their great black mustang.

As they conducted the tour Jardir lamented — not for the first time — how woefully insecure the greenland city was. The very weaknesses that had allowed his warriors to take ‘Fort’ Rizon so easily made the coming Waning fill him with dread. In time he would make Everam’s Bounty more impregnable than the Desert Spear itself, but for now he was left to work with what the lax Northern barbarians had built.

The inner city was the most defensible area, but also the most obvious target, as it housed the grain silos and Jardir’s seat of power. It was also where, lacking a proper Undercity, the women and children of the outer regions would be sent to take refuge. Even the chin were to be taken in. The Damaji had protested, but Jardir ignored them. It was the duty of men to protect women and children. Even chin .

The greenlanders claimed no alagai had penetrated the inner city in a century, but Jardir suspected it was because it had never truly been tested. The wardwall was barely taller than most rock demons. His stonemasons and Warders had been adding to it since they took the city, but it was still pathetic compared with the great wardwall of the Desert Spear. Jardir looked at the scorpions and stone slingers lining the newly built crenellations and hoped they would be enough to hold back a more direct assault. He was prepared for fighting in the streets of the main city, but if it came to that, it would mean the battle was going very badly.

The next line of defence was the outer city, several times the size of the inner and protected by a wardwall so low a man could leap over it. This wall had stone wardpillars like the obelisks of Anoch Sun set every twenty feet, casting overlapping protections to strengthen the defensive field.