Page 41 of The Prince Without Sorrow

Chapter Forty

Ashoka

A SHOKA HAD NEVER BEEN SO GLAD TO SEE R IDI SOLDIERS in his life.

They arrived at dawn, around two hundred dressed in all-black armour, the insignia of the Ridi Kingdom – a sun bear – stamped upon the breastplates of their armour, carrying swords and bows of terrifying size.

He’d set them up immediately, and with an ease that he had never felt with the Ran soldiers. His command of the Ridi language was middling at best, and certainly not as polished as Sau’s, but he had relayed his plans to the leading general to have them stationed in the poorer communities to safeguard the people – and the mayakari – susceptible to violent attacks by the old governor’s soldiers.

Knowing that these men and women were unlikely to report back to his brother was a huge relief. Kosala could raise his concerns to Arush all he wanted, but here was an instance that his older brother would not care. Not when he’d approved the order himself. Ashoka reminded himself to thank Prince Ryu for his goodwill if he ever had the chance.

Goodwill, and yet the man was keeping his friend in Makon as part of the deal. He could only hope that Saudamini was working as quickly as she could to help with Prince Ryu’s concerns regarding the mayakari disappearances before she came back to him.

The sun was beginning to set, bringing with it the colours of a bruise, when Ashoka arrived at the razed lands with Rahil and his soldiers. Rani, his longsword, hung at his side, passed down from Arush. They were met by a group of women, their saris, shifts, skirts, and trousers in varying shades of black. Dark, shimmering cloth obscured their noses and mouths, leaving only their eyes visible. A protective mechanism, he realized, to avoid being recognized.

‘Try not to attack the mayakari, please,’ he reminded his guards dryly as they approached the wary-looking bunch. He did not have to relay this message to the Ridi men and women – they understood that the mayakari were not to be harmed. ‘Set up a perimeter around the area and keep watch. Do not let any civilians pass through, and do not let any other Ran soldier past this point. I will not have Kosala’s men disrupt me tonight.’ He expected townspeople to wander in. The noise and the rumours would make them flock here like crows to food scraps, and he wanted them to see without getting themselves killed.

The guards nodded before a majority dispersed, leaving Rahil, Sachith, and a handful of his own Ran soldiers behind.

‘Prince Ashoka.’ He recognized Nayani’s voice immediately. The mayakari removed herself from the others and made her way towards him.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said, nodding towards the dozen or so witches milling around the statue, speaking in whispers alone.

Nayani shook her head. ‘Thank you for finding Usra,’ she said. ‘The spirit inside that statue has waited a long time, but don’t forget your end of the bargain. Halt the killings.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised, thinking of Naila and her more insidious addition to her leader’s original request.

Kill him. You can. You have the ability.

It was getting harder and harder to refute the voice that always fought back against his peaceful side. After all, he’d nearly killed his father in his dream, and it had felt so oddly anticlimactic when he hadn’t.

Sacrifice your beliefs to help the oppressed. It is the only way.

But to kill would be impossible. It would throw his morals away.

Last night’s dream resurfaced again, along with his father’s remark: To save many, you must harm one.

Is violence not necessary to protect the weak? That insistent, echoey part of his mind came running to him like a dog called to its master. Can violence not be righteous?

He didn’t know. For once, he did not have the confidence to justify his thoughts.

‘I will uphold my end of the bargain,’ he said through gritted teeth, seeing Rahil’s raised eyebrows at his comment. ‘You have my word. For now, free that nature spirit.’

Nayani’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting in a soft ‘ o ’ before they settled into a grim smile.

‘Of course,’ she said with a bow. The first one she had given him, he realized. Stepping away, she raised her voice to get the attention of his soldiers. ‘I’d suggest you order your soldiers to disperse and guard the perimeters. Wouldn’t want an unsuspecting citizen to wander in and lose their life, would we?’

‘You heard her,’ Ashoka said, turning to the remainder of his guards. ‘Watch the perimeters.’ Sachith gave him the tiniest of nods.

‘As you wish, Prince Ashoka,’ he remarked, signalling the men and women around him to separate, leaving him alone with Rahil, the mayakari, and the statue for company.

He glanced up and his father’s face stared down at him, all burnished, untouched gold. Spirits, he wanted to tear it to pieces.

He watched as Rahil reached out to touch it in wonder. ‘The spirit is trapped in here?’ he asked. Disbelief clouded his voice, and Ashoka didn’t blame him.

Nayani, too, strode forward and placed a hand against the metal. ‘Yes, I can feel it,’ she muttered after a few seconds. ‘A little spark of energy. It’s difficult to sense it, even like this.’

‘What is your plan of action?’ Ashoka inquired.

‘Awakening and coaxing it out will attract the nature spirits from the forestland, princeling,’ Nayani said gruffly. ‘They’ll be as destructive and dangerous as they were before, so no – I’d highly suggest that you keep yourself a safe distance from us. Or don’t, if you have a death wish.’

Ashoka glanced at Rahil, who rolled his eyes. ‘I fear Ashoka has a death wish,’ he replied. ‘We’ll stay with you.’

With clinical fascination, Ashoka stayed to observe as the mayakari gathered in a half-moon formation around the statue. Their hands stretched out towards his father’s marble face, palms facing upward as they began chanting in the eerie mayakari language of curses. Nayani began first before the others followed. For a few moments, nothing happened. But then, something in the air changed.

He heard the distant wail of nature spirits in the forestland and shivered. They were awake.

‘Stay by my side,’ Nayani hissed as she stopped her chanting momentarily. ‘Do not leave this formation.’

‘It’s waking!’ Nayani shouted in the din as a pale reddish glow began to appear from within the sculpture. A cloud of greyish dust appeared, the hazy mist enlarging so that it covered his father’s statue completely.

‘ PRINCE ASHOKA! ’

His stomach turned. No. Not now.

‘ Stop this immediately! ’

Some of the mayakari faltered at the sound of Governor Kosala’s voice, fear painting their faces. Turning around, Ashoka saw the governor straining to push past his soldiers who blocked him with bodies and swords. Undeterred, the governor’s own guards pushed back, causing a scuffle.

‘Keep going,’ he called out to an anxious-looking Nayani. ‘We’ll take care of this. Rahil, with me.’

Meeting the governor’s eyes, Ashoka stepped in front of him, gesturing for his soldiers to fall back but stand ready. ‘Governor,’ he greeted. ‘A fine day, is it not?’

‘Do not be smart with me,’ the governor roared. ‘Under the command of Emperor Arush, I order you to cease this nonsense. Your title will not protect you, Prince Ashoka.’

Tightening the grip on the hilt of his sword, Ashoka stepped forward. The governor only had a handful of soldiers; his own could easily override them. ‘No, governor,’ he ordered. ‘You should leave, before you hurt yourself.’

Kosala laughed, the sound as grating as metal serrating against metal. ‘I think not, Prince Ashoka,’ he replied, throwing up a free hand. At his gesture, two soldiers charged at him.

Rahil moved like a wraith.

On moment, he was beside Ashoka, and the next, he vanished, appearing like lightning in front of Kosala’s soldiers before attacking them with his broadswords. There was no hesitation; one sword sliced clean across a soldier’s chest while the other defended and disarmed another.

While Rahil was occupied, Ashoka focused his attention on Kosala. ‘Leave them be,’ he ordered.

‘Mayakari sympathizer!’ the governor spat, reaching for his side. Thinking he was about to brandish his sword, Ashoka moved forward with his own drawn. Too late, he realized that Kosala had not reached for his sword. Too slow, he was unable to disarm the governor in time as he pulled out a gleaming silver chakram and flung it towards Nayani.

‘ No! ’ Ashoka yelled. A bloodcurdling scream was the confirmation he needed that the governor had hit his target. Sure enough, Nayani dropped to the ground, the chakram embedded in her calf.

Fury like he had never known coursed through him like wildfire.

Duty to the weak calls you to sacrifice your beliefs of peace.

To save many, you must harm one. Will you do it?

It was his father’s voice that taunted him. For a split second, Ashoka hesitated. Killing would make him like Adil. But then came the crushing reality: mayakari burned, lands destroyed, more kingdoms annexed, and for what?

To achieve peace, you must accept violence.

His decision would cost him, but purpose overrode any sense of doubt. He did not want to see another mayakari dead.

Ashoka positioned himself with his sword.

The governor seemed to guess his intent, for he too drew his own. Steeling himself, Ashoka charged, and met the governor’s weapon with his own, the clang piercing his ears.

Kosala was slow with his sword, but his precision was startlingly accurate. He struck – once, twice, thrice, four times with unrelenting fervour. Years of unforgiving practice kicking in, Ashoka obstructed all attempts at a strike to his chest. Kosala was surprisingly strong.

His fifth attempt at Ashoka’s chest was blocked again, but Kosala pivoted quickly enough to slice into Ashoka’s left arm. Gritting his teeth, Ashoka felt the sting of an open wound against air, felt the agonizing drip of blood sliding against skin. It wasn’t deep enough to scream murder, but the blade had cut enough to hurt.

Wincing, Ashoka kept his mouth shut. Screaming would only distract Rahil and spur Kosala to victory and he wanted to show no sign of fear.

He parried, dodging, ducking, and diving. He needed to get Kosala on the ground, without his sword. Their weapons clashed together again, as Ashoka stumbled back but held his footing against the sudden and unexpected force that had come from the governor.

Instinct kicked in, as Ashoka fought like he had back in the Maurya palace with Rahil. Hard, swift, agile, unrelenting. The only thing that had changed was his goal. When he fought with Rahil, the aim had always been to get him to yield. Admittedly, it had also prevented Ashoka from truly causing any pain – he could never hurt Rahil.

Here, however, he had a target. A target he felt no empathy for, and it was all too easy to banish any thoughts of guilt from his mind, any sense of decorum.

Ashoka yelled, and forced Kosala’s sword out of his grip, tackling the governor to the ground with him. Admirably, the governor put up an impressive struggle. Kosala rammed his forehead into Ashoka’s, forcing him to lose his grip on his sword. It gave enough leeway for the governor to knock it away from him.

Letting out a grunt of frustration, Ashoka aimed the crook of his elbow into Kosala’s throat, forcing a wretched gasp from him. He scrambled towards his sword, victory overwhelming him as his fingers gripped the hilt. Turning, he found that Kosala was attempting to stand up, his breathing severely affected by Ashoka’s blow.

‘No more,’ Ashoka panted heavily, sprinting towards the governor, and tackling him down again, grappling to avoid Kosala’s teeth from biting into his flesh.

‘You. Can’t. Win,’ Kosala huffed, lifting an arm to block Ashoka’s free hand. ‘Weakling.’

Angrily, Ashoka wrenched the man’s hand away from him, and forced it back, ignoring Kosala’s yelp.

‘Do you know why I’m going to kill you?’ He leaned down to whisper in the governor’s ear. ‘I want the mayakari to trust me more than I ever want you to, and trust me when I say, governor, that I will feel nothing .’

Kosala’s whole body went limp as he stared, dumbfounded. He’d got him. However, his momentary lapse of control was replaced by his furious hiss.

‘You traitorous scum ,’ spat Kosala. ‘You could never be the ruler your father was.’

Ashoka felt his senses snap. Red was all he saw, and rage was all he could hear. Again and again – he hated this. He hated people telling him that he would never be his father, as if he wanted to be.

He tightened his grasp on Rani’s hilt.

‘No,’ he growled, ‘I will be better.’

With that, he drove the sword between Kosala’s ribs. Maliciousness overtaking him, Ashoka watched as Kosala screamed in pain, the blood pooling thick and fast around him. Darkness began to spread across the dirt.

Kosala sputtered, blood dripping from his mouth.

It’s not killing him fast enough , Ashoka thought. Although he’d have liked to watch the governor die an agonizing death, he couldn’t bring himself to watch any more.

Taking the dagger from his belt, Ashoka watched the blood trickle from Kosala’s mouth.

‘I want to watch you suffer slowly,’ he spat, ‘but I’m no monster, and I am not my father.’

Kosala attempted to speak but, with the speed of a leopard, Ashoka swiped downwards, aiming the tip of the knife at the bulging artery on the side of Kosala’s neck, releasing a gushing torrent of red. Kosala burbled, wheezed, strained for what felt like an eternity, until his whole body became still. His eyes lay open, frozen with fear and disbelief, like prey trapped before its hunter.

The governor was dead.

Ashoka knew he was covered both in Kosala’s blood and his own. The silk of his shirt was coloured an atrocious metallic russet. This death should have humbled some part of him, made him realize the weight of a life taken, but it did not. It only made him feel powerful. Immortal.

Untouchable.

His eyes sought Rahil’s immediately. He stood surrounded by fallen soldiers, covered in blood like he was. Ashoka felt his own heart pang at Rahil’s face. He knew that some part of him had been sullied for good in Rahil’s mind. The young Ashoka who had denounced slaughter burned like mayakari in the night.

Disgust forced his throat to heave. Before he could stop himself, Ashoka fell to his hands and knees, and vomited onto the ground.