Forged In Death, Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles by Jim Melvin Read Free Book Online Page B

those with clever eyes. When she emerged, she looked like a typical Senasanan woman.
    Sōbhana wandered through the mob, which was growing raucous. Noon approached. Soon there would be feasting, during which the Chain Man and his soldiers would probably be treated like heroes. This was how merchants dealt with enemies. But if most of Mala’s army followed him back to Avici afterward, Sōbhana believed that few in the merchant city would complain.
    The teeming market in the heart of Senasana surrounded an enormous temple that was larger and more ornate than the pyramid-shaped shrine in Dibbu-Loka. The temple, called Vinipata, was a bulbous dome made of white marble that towered three hundred cubits above the floor of the square. Four smaller and less impressive domes served as Vinipata’s guardians, and exquisite minarets framed the outer corners. Visitors entered through a red sandstone gate, decorated with a multitude of ancient inscriptions. The courtyard inside the gate could accommodate many thousands. Sōbhana had been to this place several times before this latest visit, though the other occasions had been far more pleasurable.
    Mala escorted Torg into the square. The mob followed. The temple grounds soon swarmed with soldiers and onlookers. Sōbhana, in her new dress and hat, blended into the throng. She positioned herself as best she could to get a clear view.
    Though most areas of the courtyard were packed, an open space remained around Mala and Torg. The Chain Man towered above everyone, and few dared approach the monster and his prisoner. Several golden soldiers stationed themselves a dozen paces away, but would go no nearer. The five druids and the Kojin, however, pressed in as close as they could. Mala’s presence seemed to fill them with bliss.
    The druids of Dhutanga stood almost seven cubits tall. They were thin and angular but deceptively strong. Their outer flesh looked more like bark than skin, and they had fiery eyes and large mouths, with black holes where there should have been ears and noses.
    The Kojin was an enormous ogress with a bloated head and six muscled arms. Only a few of her kind still existed in the world, and those rarely had ventured outside of Java—until the emergence of Invictus. Sōbhana recalled her lone confrontation with a Kojin, which had occurred while traveling with two Asēkhas through Java. A vicious fight ensued—three against one. Despite their most concentrated efforts, the warriors could not seriously injure the beast, and they struggled to avoid its wicked counterattacks. Finally they were forced to flee. Sōbhana had never overcome the humiliation. She hadn’t thought it possible for a trio of Asēkhas to fare so poorly against a single foe.
    The Kojin who stood near Torg was even larger than the one she’d encountered. It was only a span shorter than Mala, dwarfing the druids in height and, especially, in breadth.
    Next to these giants, even Torg looked pitifully small.
    “How could anyone stand against monsters so terrible?” Sōbhana heard a woman in the crowd whisper to a man next to her.
    He shrugged, looking nervous. “I know I couldn’t, is all.”
    “Where are the Tugars?” another man said. “Where are the Asēkhas? Do they tremble?”
    “We all tremble,” the first man said.
    Mala let out a roar that echoed throughout the courtyard. Flames sprang from his massive chain, flinging gouts of black smoke into the air.
    All went silent.
    The monster’s booming voice was as concussive as thunder. “Citizens of Senasana  . . . as you know, The Torgon stands accused of treason. He has conspired against King Invictus and his loyal followers. But fear not. As you can see, he has been captured and will be brought before the throne of the king in the Golden City—there to be fairly judged.”
    Mala’s speech was greeted by scattered applause and cheers, but also by a fair share of grumbling.
    Hidden near the gates, Sōbhana shouted, “Liar!”
    Soldiers