1045 - Rebellion in the Raj (Patreon)

The cold bit into his skin.  Hunger gnawed in his belly despite his relative lack of need for food.  His body was covered in barely-healed lacerations, signs of the many varied tortures he’d endured.  The steady drip, drip, drip somewhere in the cell rang in his ears, an ever-present reminder of just where he was.

Imprisoned.

Captured.

Shame burned within him.  He’d thrown away so much, from the privileges and positions his King had granted him to the potential friendships that he’d done nothing to foster, and all so that he could attempt to avenge his family.

His King had understood; he had seen it in his eyes.  His King hadn’t held his request to launch this expedition against him.  He should’ve seen then that the man was a worthy King to follow, an honorable and laidback man who wouldn’t abuse his loyalty.

He should’ve been happy in his King’s service, content in the powers and privileges that had been heaped upon him.  But he couldn’t forget his family, all dead for the sake of one man who’d fallen in love with the wrong woman.  He was the last of his line, the only one who could avenge their memory.  Honor had demanded that he do something.

The drip, drip, dripping hammered his eardrums like actual hammers, not letting him sleep, not letting him rest his mind.  He was bound by steel chains such that he couldn’t lay down or ever truly find any measure of comfort—not that his cell held much in the way of comfort.  It was bare stone from floor to ceiling, lacking even so much as a tiny, barred window.  He couldn’t even move to relieve himself—not that he even had a bucket to relieve himself into.  Most bitingly, his powers were sealed by a complex array of enchantments woven into the steel cuffs nearly cutting off all blood circulation into his hands, and the walls that seemed to close in around him more and more with every passing second.  There was no light down in his cell, buried so far below the earth that he doubted anyone would ever be able to find him.  Just him, his thoughts, and the ever-present drip, drip, drip.

Not for the first time, a sarcastic thought flowed through his head telling him that he ought to count himself lucky, as he was quite certain all of his allies were dead.  That he was alive at all was something to be grateful for.

But if this was to be the remainder of his life, then he could only hope it was a short one.

The cell shook slightly, almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel some smidgeon of hope.  But as his cell settled down again, he sighed, barely holding back the despair.  If he ever managed to defy all odds and escape—not that he could see how that was possible in this condition—then he would devote himself fully to those who’d placed such trust in him.  He thought of his King across the sea, and the potential friends he’d scorned for reasons that now seemed so petty.

As these thoughts died down, his cell shook ever so slightly once again, but as with the previous time, it settled.  He wondered if this was some new torture devised to keep him from ever finding any measure of comfort.  At the very least, he found his line of thought disturbed, and his thoughts turned to just how he’d wound up in this situation…

---

The sun shone brightly, the wind rustled pleasantly, and the air was neither too cold nor too warm to be particularly uncomfortable.  It was a beautiful day for spending the day outside, enjoying all of nature’s bounties.

Prince Tosali, sitting astride his horse, stared out across the meadow, a strong war bow in hand.  four miles separated his men from his opponents, half a mile of beautiful green grass.  He was almost ashamed that what was about to happen would ruin this place’s beauty.

Arrayed in front of him were dense rows of thousands of men, all armed and armored.  Thousands more cavalrymen were far to the right and left, anchoring the flanks.  Behind the lines of infantry were tall war elephants bearing great machines of war upon their backs.  Interspersed within and in front of the infantry were archers, most wielding bows but some holding crossbows.

In total, Prince Tosali had led more than fifty thousand men here.  His principal ally, Prince Avanti, led another fifty thousand.  Their other, weaker allies had furnished them with enough troops to triple their forces.  Of those allies, Prince Mahinda was the strongest, leading a contingent of twenty-five thousand from Chola.  Mahinda was a relative of Prince Ellalan, the famous Prince of Chola who had halted the Indra Raj’s last attempt to conquer the Free Cities of the Tam.

Most of their forces had been drawn from the Indra Raj’s eastern states, those nobles who opposed the Raj’s current Rajah.  Their grievances were many—sisters and daughters given away without their consent as wives and concubines to more centrally-based nobles, harsh taxes, and a curbing of their rights were the most common reasons, though Mahinda was supporting them for the promise of a more permanent peace between Chola and the Raj.

Assembled against them was a force that at least equaled, if not surpassed, their own.  It had taken them six months after their most powerful and distant ally had arrived before they announced their rebellion, during which they had assembled as much military power as they could without drawing too much scrutiny.  After their denouncement of the Rajah, it had taken them another six months to assemble the rest of their forces, meet up with the rest of their foreign allies, and begin their march westward to the capital, Kaia.

Tosali had never dared to hope that he’d catch the Rajah off-guard—the Rajah relied upon the central Princes and nobles to maintain his rule, so since they were closer to Kaia, it was easier for them to muster their forces.  It was never possible for Tosali’s forces to outnumber the Rajah’s, though Tosali had had a vain hope that his most personally powerful ally would come with aid from the powerful King of the Sky Devils.

Unfortunately, Anshu arrived alone.  Still, he’d arrived with the power of an eighth-tier mage, a staggering level of power that on its own had convinced a great many lesser nobles to join their side.  Of those forces opposing them, only the Rajah himself was eighth-tier.

War drums across the meadow began to beat their deadly rhythm, and the ground shook in response as hundreds of thousands of men began a slow march forward.  Riding up from Tosali’s right came his top general, his pure white armor shining in the sun.

“My Prince!” Arjun called out.  “The enemy is charging!”

“I noticed!” Tosali responded.  “Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

Their battlefield hadn’t so much been chosen as it had been forced upon them.  More than half a million men had been assembled here, a force that could drink rivers dry and laid waste to all farms they marched across.  The logistical challenge of supplying such an army on the march meant that they could only march through the most populated regions.  Marching too far away from places they could resupply meant that they’d starve.

This meadow was the only place that was both large and flat enough for such a titanic clash and close enough to the highways that ran through the Raj that resupply was relatively easy.  There could’ve been no other place where such large armies could’ve met each other without dividing their forces.

As a result, now wanting to divide his army, the Rajah had encamped on the west side of the meadow and waited while his army was continually reinforced with more and more men from the Raj’s western states.  Tosali had arrived a week after the Rajah, and after encamping on the eastern side, the two had made a habit over the past month of assembling their armies on either side of the meadow and staring each other down.

Until this moment, neither had seen enough of an opening to risk a clash.  Some negotiations had been attempted, but neither side had been willing to budge on their demands.  Tosali’s forces demanded the abdication of the Rajah, while the Rajah demanded their unconditional surrender.

“Seems that Arka’s blessing gave him the confidence to attack,” Tosali remarked with a wave at the shining sun.  “We’ll wait for them to advance, let them get tired.  When we clash, they will die tired.”

“He still outnumbers us,” Arjun commented.  “Those numbers may carry the day.”

Tosali grinned, though he wasn’t as confident as he appeared.  “Unless they can find some way to flank us, then it would take the Devas themselves to descend from the heavens to grant them victory!”

He nodded to one of his adjutants, and after a barked order, drums began beating on his side, though at a different rhythm than those on the Rajah’s.  His men assumed a defensive formation, readying themselves to resist the advance of the Rajah.

From Tosali’s left came Prince Avanti.  “Try not to look so glum, boys!” he shouted boisterously, a lance of gleaming steel in his hand.  “Today’s the day that that scheming bastard Ramagupta dies!”

Tosali smiled as Avanti rode past.  His forces were on the right, and Avanti would lead his cavalrymen personally.  With nothing more than a nod, Tosali sent Arjun to the left, where his cavalry were stationed.  As the overall commander, Tosali would remain in the rear to better control the war elephants and the artillery they bore.

That very artillery opened up when the Rajah’s army refused to stop, marching until they were within half a mile.  Massive enchanted boulders were flung in high arcs while bolts larger than two men standing atop one another were shot from massive ballistae.  The bolts exploded with fire, ice, and earth, while the boulders detonated in the air, shredding much of Ramagupta’s front line.

But that was the only unanswered shot that Tosali’s forces got off.  Ramagupta’s war elephants were brought forward and answered the next few salvos shot for shot.

At that point, neither side was going to back down.  Thousands had been injured and maimed, and thousands more were dead.  Too many of Ramagupta’s men had stepped over the bodies of their comrades for the Rajah to back down without losing face.

The archers soon came into range of one another, and Tosali ordered the cavalry on the wings to charge.  Ramagupta’s cavalry answered as well, and thousands of cavalrymen barreled toward one another on either side of the massive blocks of infantry.

Minutes later, the frontlines of both armies met.  Shields clashed, spears flashed in the sun, and bolts, arrows, and boulders soared over the fighting men.  Through it all, the drums beat, though they were almost drowned out by the sounds of screaming from the injured and the wrathful.

By this point, the armies were too committed to easily retreat.  If they tried, they’d be cut to pieces by the pursuing enemy.  Tosali knew that this was his time.  He gave the order, a signal was given, and a light shone in the sky almost as brightly as the sun itself.  A beam of white light lanced down into the ranks of Ramagupta’s army, killing dozens in a moment, and killing dozens more as the beam swept sideways, cutting through two entire ranks of soldiers.

Tosali smiled as Anshu descended from the sky, his brilliant armor having kept him hidden there every time the armies had assembled to stare each other down.  Again Tosali rued that Anshu had arrived alone for the stories he’d heard of the strength of the Sky Devil King would’ve guaranteed their victory had he only joined them, but it seemed that Anshu might be enough.  Already, he was expertly opening gaps in the frontline that even the sixth and few seventh-tier mages that Tosali had on his side had been struggling to accomplish with Ramagupta’s mages there to counter them.

Satisfaction bloomed in the Prince’s heart as he watched the Rajah’s line flexing and wavering under Anshu’s onslaught.  The battle had barely begun, but it looked like they were going to achieve an early lead that, if exploited aggressively enough, would win them the day.

“Push forward!” Tosali roared as he raised his curved saber, the blade glowing with highly visible arcane light.  His voice traveled far backed by his seventh-tier power, even amidst the cacophony of such large-scale violence.  “Victory will be ours!  Push!”

Horns then sounded on the other side of the field, drawing Tosali’s attention.  Nothing new moved in the west, so for a moment, he wondered what the signal was for.  Horns on the left gave him his answer; Mahinda’s twenty-five thousand hit Tosali’s left flank, the betrayal striking Tosali momentarily silent.

The betrayal cut deeply, and it took nearly a whole minute for Tosali to come to his senses.  When he did, he realized that above the fighting armies, Anshu had been engaged by hundreds of powerful mages equipped with flight belts from Heaven’s Eye.  A formation of a hundred fifth and sixth-tier lightning mages assembled behind Ramagupta’s lines and shot bolts of golden lightning at Anshu, putting further pressure on the eighth-tier mage.

Tosali began barking orders, ordering the war elephants to turn their weapons upon the traitorous Prince of Chola.  His voice became strained as his desperation rose; it wasn’t lost on him that the battle had likely been decided the moment Mahinda’s army made their betrayal known, but Tosali had staked everything he had upon this rebellion.  If he lost this battle, it was unlikely he’d get another chance.  He had to win.

As he shouted himself hoarse directing his forces to respond to the betrayal of Chola’s forces, a cavalry captain dressed in Avanti’s colors came riding toward him.

“My Prince!” he shouted as he waved his bloody spear in the air.  “My Prince!”

“What news from Avanti?!” one of Tosali’s adjutants shouted back.

“He’s dead!” the captain shouted.  A moment later, his posture on his horse shifted as his aura suddenly spiked to the power of a seventh-tier mage.  “And so are you!”  He hurled his spear.  Tosali had no chance to dodge.

The spear hit him in the next with such force that his head was torn right off his body, a look of horrified surprise frozen on his face.  His head hit the ground just as his horse reared up in panic, sending the rest of his lifeless body crashing to the ground.  He didn’t even see Anshu falling from the sky a moment later, overwhelmed by the horde of flying mages that Ramagupta had swarmed him with…

---

‘Perhaps a blessing Tosali fell that day,’ Anshu bitterly thought.  ‘He didn’t have to witness how spectacularly we failed.  He didn’t have to see the executions of his family.  He didn’t have to suffer here with me.’

Anshu flexed his fingers, desperate for any kind of relief from the tight manacles, but the movement only caused the steel to dig even deeper and more painfully into his wrists.  He grimaced.

His regrets were many.  He regretted surviving the battle when most of his allies had not.  He regretted not bringing more men with him who might’ve tipped the scales of power more in his side’s favor.  He regretted not asking for Leon’s help in his endeavor.  He regretted how rudely he’d treated Leon himself, and many of Leon’s followers—especially Alix, Anna, and Helen.

He sputtered with barely restrained sobs.  He wished he was back in Kaia with his family, as they’d been almost a hundred years ago.  He wished he was still in Stormhollow or Occulara, training with Leon and his retinue.  He wished he was behind the wheel of a ship or sitting in the command chair of an ark.  He wished he was anywhere but where he was, powerless, broken, and alone save for those moments when his captors even bothered to torture him.

Most of all, he wished he could be allowed to die.  Horrible though the torture was, it was marginally less painful than bearing the weight of his many mistakes.  Tosali and Avanti were dead, and he’d practically abandoned Leon.  It had been more than a year since he’d left Kataigida; he doubted that the Thunder King was going to come to rescue him.

Anshu closed his eyes, whispering his hopes that his situation might come to some kind of end soon, no matter what that end might be.  The dripping water was the only answer he heard.

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