Horsemen of Old

by Krishnarjun Bhattacharya

  The man nodded.

  ‘I’m supposed to have Sorcerer blood,’ Maya said, still trying to get over the last story. ‘The gauntlets were a gift. But nothing happens when I put them on. I’ve tried summoning the magic in every way—I’ve begged, I’ve pleaded, I’ve closed my eyes and tried to feel it. Zilch. Zero.’

  ‘May I?’ the old man gestured. Maya realised he was asking for a gauntlet. She hesitated, then opened one, taking her time, and handed it over to him.

  He turned it over in his hands, peering at it with his sharp eyes. Then he casually slipped it on, fitting it into place with practiced ease. Maya stared. ‘You put that on faster than me,’ she said.

  The old man opened his palm and a small red sphere shimmered into actuality. He looked at it hover. ‘Been a while,’ he said. ‘Though I prefer me a good firearm over these blighted things.’

  ‘I can’t do even that,’ Maya said. ‘Can’t even—are you a Sorcerer?’

  ‘Knew one,’ the old man said. ‘Have had me a long life, miss. You tend to learn a few things here and there if you live long enough.’ He closed his palm. The orb disappeared, and the old man took the gauntlet off. Wordlessly, he handed it back to Maya. There was a bit of a quiet as she put it back on, trying to make the process look as practiced as possible.

  ‘I’ve faced me the same dilemma, young lady,’ the old man said. ‘Had gauntlets, couldn’t feel nothing, couldn’t summon nothing. Bit of a toughie, this here phase. Was stuck, hated them gauntlets until a bit of advice came along. Here’s what I’m going to do, I’m going to repeat those words to you, see if that gets you anywhere.’

  Maya looked at him gravely and nodded.

  ‘Listen carefully,’ the old man said. ‘Lots of people will tell you things about magic. Schools of sorcery and all of that horseshit. Reading rulebooks ain’t getting you near magic. Neither is pleading, feeling the air.’ The old man paused. ‘You can’t push it. You’ve got to give in. Magic is energy—destructive, chaotic energy. Your body is the conduit, the gauntlets simply the exit route, the anus of this system. Free yourself, stop trying, let it flow. Now this can happen through here calm or desperation or however the hell the Demons do it—but this is the secret.’

  There was a moment when Maya thought he would burst out laughing. But he didn’t. Maya focused for a minute, trying to remember all that was said to her. It seemed pretty clear, another way of looking at it. She would try it out.

  ‘Tell me about the Undying,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry miss,’ the old man said, checking an ancient wristwatch. ‘Time for my godforsaken medicines. Begging your pardon, must take my leave.’

  Maya nodded. ‘We should sit again,’ she said.

  ‘It seems someone found investment interesting,’ the old man said, and tipping his hat one last time, moved off towards the lodge. Maya watched him go, and noticed that Gray’s window was open again.

  8

  Maya stood on the roof, alone. She took a deep breath. Failure did not affect her anymore, but hope was always a dangerous thing. Hope could rekindle everything vulnerable. She stood away from the edges, away from anyone who could see her from below. She did not want to be seen. A week had gone by, an entire week before she could muster the courage she needed to come up here on her own and try this.

  She stood firm, her legs planted on the concrete. She looked down at the gauntlets. The same, silent, black coverings that refused to co-operate. ‘Well, perhaps I’ve been trying too hard,’ she spoke aloud. ‘Your Mordraike has been with someone for whom spells are as easy as breathing. I’m going to try and breathe it in as well.’ She paused, still looking at her hands. ‘Do you have names? I’m sure he must have named you. I’m not naming you right now. Not until you have fully accepted me as your new owner.’

  Maya opened her palms in front of her, facing upward. ‘Well, then, here goes,’ she spoke, and closed her eyes. Her other senses grew sharper, as was custom—she could hear the guards talking to each other, the occasional footsteps, someone walking somewhere. There was even music, but it was not the old man; it was a gramophone from one of the other rooms. The room was shut, the music was faint. Maya heard more. Crows, in the far distance. Then, slowly, the smaller things. The wind, whistling through the only green tree in the courtyard. The few leaves, moving. Susurrating.

  Magic was here and there, everywhere. Energy. It was in the leaves, in the floor beneath her feet, in the air she was softly breathing in. She tried to picture it. How would one picture magic? A serpentine dragon, purple. Definitely purple, a pellucid purple, flowing through the winds, leaving and gathering bits of its existence everywhere. Because this dragon was everywhere, it did not move itself. No, it was everything else, rather, that transmuted mildly to become the creature as it chose to move. Maya took her worries and weights, her responsibilities and fears, and moulded them into a ball of spinning light, her eyes still closed. She destroyed this ball in her imagination, leaving nothing behind, not even fragments.

  I am free now. I submit to you. Come to me. Flow through me.

  She pictured the great dragon change its course, and slowly, slowly glide towards her. Everything changed once more, the environment allowed its passage. Her walls were up no more, and it passed through, and then passed through her, washing her with its light, its ethereal fire. Maya felt a slight jolt, a shiver, as she saw this, and then everything came back, all the everyday sounds. But there was a new sound as well. A soft crackling. She opened her eyes.

  Her palms were together, and between them burnt a tiny flame, rivalling a cigarette lighter in its final moments. It was purple. Maya could not believe her eyes. She looked again at the purple fire and the black metal reflecting it. She looked at it in wonder, dumbfounded, and then her lips parted in a smile, which soon became a laugh. She held the flame with great care, and then she was laughing, laughing, laughing and whooping with joy and disbelief.

  ‘Congratulations,’ a voice behind her said. A voice she had not heard in a long time.

  Maya turned around and slowly separated her hands, the flame disappearing. Gray looked wretched. His cheeks had sunken inwards, along with the flesh on his person—he looked shrivelled and bony, cadaverous. His eyes had dark circles underneath and had sunk back into his head as well. His hair was scattered and dirty, and he had a wispy beard. The right sleeve of his house robe flapped loosely in the wind.

  ‘I meant that,’ he said. ‘I would’ve clapped. If I could have.’ His voice was deeper, rusty. He hadn’t been using it much.

  ‘I’ve got something that belongs to you,’ Maya said. She was wearing Ba’al’s ring on her finger. Taking it off, she held it out to Gray.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ Gray said. ‘Open it and give me the paper.’

  Maya looked at him, and then she unscrewed the outer stone. A tiny bit of paper, as promised, lay folded within. She handed it to Gray. He took it, unfolded it with a bit of difficulty, and read it. He read it four times and then swallowed the paper.

  Maya’s eyes went wide. Gray looked at her. ‘Now we don’t have to be afraid of losing the damn thing anymore. You can chuck the ring.’

  ‘Will you be able to remember?’ Maya asked, uncertain.

  ‘Yes,’ Gray replied drily. ‘For the rest of my life.’

  Maya dropped the ring. It clattered and lay still. Gray looked into Maya’s eyes. She looked away after a moment. ‘You’re a mess,’ she said.

  ‘Can you blame me?’

  ‘No, I can’t. I’m something of a mess myself.’

  ‘Nice scars.’

  ‘I was dead inside, Gray. This little fire that you saw me create—it means a lot to me. A lot.’

  ‘Yeah, turns out you’re special after all. I’m special too. Disabled special.’ Gray laughed, the fakest laugh Maya had heard. ‘Wonder where you got the Sorcerer genes from. Not mom. Must have been the Lich.’

  ‘Wow, never heard you call him that before,’ Maya said darkly.

  ‘Hidden long
enough, sis,’ Gray said, beginning to walk towards the edge of the roof. ‘Too long. I was hiding from my injury. Finally decided to come out, face it.’

  ‘Good. Things can only get better for you,’ Maya found herself saying things she had prepped herself to say. ‘What happened was unfair, but there’s . . . really no going back.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Gray replied. ‘The same things. No rewinding time. And the world isn’t going to save itself. We might be dead tomorrow, and all this time we spent here is going to be regretted. We might not live to regret it, but those who survive will.’ He looked at Maya. ‘We’ve got to continue our journey.’

  Maya looked back at him and nodded. Inside, she felt a spark of something she had never felt for Gray before. Grudging respect. Her brother was stronger than she had ever imagined.

  ‘Fayne is missing since the jump,’ Maya said.

  ‘Thought so,’ Gray said. ‘Never saw him around.’

  ‘So what should we do about that?’

  ‘You’re the boss, sis. I consider you to be the leader of this tiny outfit we’ve got here. You take the call.’

  ‘I’m no leader,’ Maya said, feeling a hot surge of anger stab at her immediately. She fought it.

  ‘Oh yes you are. You saved me, back in the cave. And you stepped up in front of the Old Guard, acted as bait while Zabrielle prepared her spell. You’ve been taking the calls, and taking them well. I want your determination back. You’ve got to lead us to the Keeper. If we get Adri back, perhaps he’ll agree to take over. But till then, you’ve got to step up once more.’

  ‘I’ll let this slide for now. But what do you propose we do?’

  ‘Fayne can find us, wherever he is,’ Gray said. ‘If he’s dead, waiting won’t help. We should move.’

  ‘Fine. We start tomorrow. I’ll have to chart out our road to the next Gate though, we’ve drifted a bit.’

  ‘You’ll find me ready,’ Gray said. He nodded to her formally, and left Maya to her thoughts. Gray, of all people, initiating the journey. Who would have thought? She did not like it. The joy of having summoned the purple flame was gone, gone, replaced by darker thoughts.

  They had dinner together for the first time in months, the three of them. Zabrielle looked happy.

  ‘We’re starting again,’ she said. ‘Good.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Gray said shortly. Maya saw he was still having difficulty eating with his left hand. Not surprising, given his health.

  ‘What’s our route?’ she asked.

  ‘The river carried us northeast,’ Zabrielle said. ‘If we bear west, we can skip the Winter Gate altogether and reach Nemen Sui directly. If you still want to attempt your rescue mission, that is.’

  Maya simply nodded.

  ‘I fear you will find him dead,’ Zabrielle said. ‘The Flesh Eaters are not famed for taking prisoners.’

  Stupid old man. ‘Worth a try,’ Maya said.

  ‘Every night in the Shadowlands is a problem,’ Zabrielle continued. ‘The days are no less dangerous, but there are certain beings which roam only at night.’

  ‘You’re talking about the Undying,’ Maya said.

  ‘Indeed. We will need a safe spot. A Tantric could have created protective circles for us, but we must manage with more rudimentary devices.’

  ‘Such as?’ Gray asked.

  ‘Such as fire,’ the Demon said. ‘Still, there is no guarantee of safety. It will be best if we can find some sort of shelter every night. There are many ruins in the Shadowlands. These might house hidden dangers, but we will still be better off.’

  ‘What are they? The Undying?’ Maya asked. ‘I’ve been seeing them and hearing them more and more these past nights. Their hooting often keeps me up.’

  ‘One does not know,’ Zabrielle said, her eyes large. ‘Those that know their secrets are not alive to tell us. Strange things happen in these lands, and are often linked to the Undying.’

  ‘I’m guessing they can’t be killed?’ Gray asked, speaking with his mouth full. He waved a chicken leg about. ‘You know, Undying and all that?’

  ‘It would be foolishness to try and make a stand against them,’ Zabrielle said. ‘We must try and avoid them as much as possible. Leaving at first light, therefore, is a good option.’

  ‘Excellent, enough of those buggers,’ Gray said. ‘How about some pudding?’ The others nodded, and Gray moved his spoon towards the bowl in the middle. But before the spoon could sink, something flew and landed in the pudding, gently splattering everyone with apple. It was a messenger dragonfly. Everyone stared at it, and then Maya picked it up.

  ‘Its wings are half burnt,’ she said, holding it up.

  Gray peered at it. ‘The metal body’s also charred,’ he added. Maya opened the back and slid out the parchment within. It was a note, one scribbled in a hurry, a short message.

  Run.

  ‘What is this? Who sent this?’ Gray asked. Zabrielle studied it. ‘I have never seen this handwriting before,’ she said. Maya slowly got up and walked to the window.

  There, across the desolate landscape, kilometres away, the night sky was glowing red. It was a red that surged and waned, a red that lit up the night clouds without hesitation.

  ‘Pack!’ she barked. ‘Something’s coming.’

  They met in front of the main gates. Gray had modified his bag to strap it across his chest, the weight distributed evenly; he held his shotgun with his good hand. Maya saw Zabrielle coming as well, and she turned to the gate. All the guards were looking at the red glow. The old man stood before the gate. Maya walked up to him.

  ‘I don’t know what it is,’ she said, coming to the point. ‘But it’s coming for us and we must leave. Hopefully, it’ll leave the lodge alone.’

  ‘Don’t you be worrying about that,’ the old man said. ‘Take care and travel safe. We’ll delay whatever that thing is.’ He barked a command and his men pulled on the ropes that operated the gate. ‘Pleasure meeting you, miss,’ the old man continued, extending a hand.

  Maya took it. ‘Maya,’ she said, with a handshake. ‘Maya Ghosh.’

  ‘Dhritiman Chakravarty,’ the old man said, smiling briefly.

  The gates opened before them and they started off in a direction away from the red skies. Maya turned back. ‘Investment shall happen again!’ she shouted.

  ‘Indeed!’ Dhritiman laughed as the gates closed.

  Maya looked ahead at the darkness. ‘We should light lamps,’ she said. They stopped for a minute, removed the metal lamps from their bags, pushed in the artefacts, and then continued, holding their lamps aloft. Zabrielle did not need one.

  Maya saw that Gray had fashioned a rough holster for the shotgun against his leg. He had slipped the shotgun in within easy reach, and now held his lamp, unflinching. It seemed that her brother had been preparing for the journey for longer than he would care to admit.

  Maya saw remains of a road under her feet. This path used to lead somewhere; now there was only darkness all around, save the few feet of light their lamps granted them. She glanced behind. In the far distance, the red in the night sky flared, then dulled, like living breath. It wasn’t anything good, whatever it was.

  ‘Walk faster,’ she snapped.

  Maya never lost track of how long they walked—this was not a long, tiresome walk like their walks before. This time, they were scared, on edge, and Gray imagined shadows moving, things jumping out of the darkness. He led the group without a word, and Zabrielle insisted on bringing up the rear. Maya counted every step. She was not taking this well, this sudden sojourn, bumbling and stumbling into the dark.

  ‘How far is Nemen Sui?’ Gray asked from up front.

  ‘A couple of days,’ Zabrielle said. ‘If we rest less, walk more.’

  ‘Voices down,’ Maya warned. ‘Are you brave or plain stupid?’ No one spoke after that. They walked. And walked. Maya trusted the Demon’s night eyes for early warnings against danger, as well as a sense of direction. Zabrielle would correct Gray every time
he changed course without realising it.

  A school bus entered their circle of light, long broken, a fossil. Maya looked at the name of the school briefly, hidden among the dead weeds that entangled the entire bus. They looked like underwater weeds to her. Could this place have been a water body once? Were they walking on a dry riverbed? There was no time, of course, to stand and speculate. The bus might have been a good place to spend the night, were they not being pursued.

  The bus made Maya realise, all of a sudden, that she was still in the contemporary world, not in some dark age with lamps and no electricity. New Kolkata seemed like another life, with its Metro and buses and autos. She stopped herself from thinking more. Alert. She needed to be alert.

  The first roar came an hour later, ripping through the sky. They stopped walking as it came and went. It did not sound like the Horseman’s roar, it did not pierce through their soul. It was a roar nonetheless, and they walked even faster, as fast as they could manage under the circumstances.

  The roars kept coming after that. It was gaining. ‘What’s the plan?’ Gray asked. ‘Do we keep running from this thing? Can’t outrun it forever.’

  The same thought had been plaguing Maya, irritating her. They couldn’t try and infiltrate Nemen Sui with something on their trail, and then outrun it till they reached the Keeper. If it was fast enough, it would eventually catch up. There was a chance that it might turn back, but that was leaving too much to fate. And the roars resounded of anger. It wasn’t the only one feeling angry.

  ‘We can wait for it and then kill it,’ Maya said. ‘I’m tired of running.’

  ‘The note was pretty clear on what we should do,’ Gray said.

  ‘We can’t outrun it,’ Zabrielle said. ‘Neither can we hide from it, they’re born as excellent trackers.’

  Maya and Gray stopped walking together. Gray turned around. ‘You mean you know what’s chasing us?’

  ‘Yes,’ Zabrielle said. ‘You never asked,’ she added after a pause.