Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [192]
From behind our lines, the black river moved forward, trickling between men and gathering to form a vast tide that poured down the hillside, blanketing the valley.
It was a sight to make anyone’s skin crawl. I daresay the Sapa Inca’s men were brave enough, for they held their line until the black river was almost upon them, but the ants in mass were too uncanny, too terrifying. The men broke ranks and began to flee, stumbling over one another in the chaos.
Those who fell were instantly engulfed, writhing and screaming; and at that, I had to look away.
With a slight smile of satisfaction, Raphael issued a silent command for the ants to withdraw and divide. The black river parted in obedience, forming a wide swath and going still. Now our human army marched down the hillside into the swath, the herald shouting out his offer for a third time.
A few of the Sapa Inca’s men fought nonetheless, war-clubs clanging futilely on the steel armor of the warriors in our vanguard; and mayhap a third of their number staged a successful retreat into the foothills, having outrun the fearsome tide.
But the majority heeded the herald’s offer, flinging down their weapons and raising their hands in an age-old gesture of surrender.
We made camp in the valley. The surrendered weapons were gathered and stacked in a pile, returned one by one as each of their owners came forward to swear loyalty to Raphael de Mereliot, Lord Pachacuti.
There was awe in their faces, and I could not fault them for it. They had never seen anyone like Raphael. With his fair skin, his gilded-bronze hair, and sparks of lightning flashing in his storm-grey eyes, he well nigh appeared to be the offspring of some elemental gods; and there were the ants, ominous proof of his unnatural power. Lest anyone doubt it, a dozen skeletons littered the battlefield, bones picked clean.
“Lord Pachacuti is pleased,” the herald announced after the last of the Sapa Inca’s men had pledged loyalty.
Raphael inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“Lest any man among you have sworn falsely,” the herald continued, “know that the black river is ever watching.” He indicated the vast mass of ants with a sweeping gesture. “To raise a hand against Lord Pachacuti is to be devoured by it.”
They believed.
Since it was true, I could not fault them for that, either.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Three days later, we reached the city of Qusqu.
There were no further battles along the way. The Sapa Inca’s men honored their oaths and proved loyal to Raphael—or at least too fearful of the black river to resist him. We marched over wrinkled green terrain, ascending ever higher into the mountains, the climate growing colder and the air turning thinner.
Qusqu was a jewel of a city, set amidst the arid heights. Like the Nahuatl, the Quechua were skilled engineers, quarrying stone without the aid of steel implements, building terraces planted with an array of hardy crops, harnessing the power of the river that plummeted from the peak of the mountain, taming it into canals that interlaced the city, providing fresh drinking and bathing water for all before spilling into the rich valleys below.
We found the city partially abandoned and ripe for occupation. Laborers and merchants remained, but the Sapa Inca Yupanqui and his army had withdrawn.
“My first conquest.” Seated in his litter, Raphael drew a deep breath as we entered the city walls, as though to take possession of the air itself. “But where is the Sapa Inca?” He frowned. “He must surrender to me.”
One of the Quechua pointed. “There.”
There was a fortress that loomed above the city, perched atop it like a falcon hunched over its prey, defended by high walls. A hastily dug moat surrounded it, filled with churning water diverted from the river and channeled back into the canals.
Prince Manco scowled. “My father thinks to make a stand.”
Raphael smiled. “Oh, he does, does he? Well, let him. We’ll take the fortress at our leisure.”
Standing close enough to hear the exchange, I eyed the myriad streams of ants scuttling along the streets of Qusqu.