Warrior Genius

by Michael Dante DiMartino

  Pietro shuffled forward, his walking stick clacking against the marble floor. “Ozo, please thank His Excellency for meeting with us,” he said with a polite bow. “And let him know what an honor it is to be visiting his great empire again.”

  Ozo began to translate, but Samraat Ajeet cut him off and, to Giacomo’s surprise, replied in Zizzolan. “We may speak directly. My father insisted I learn your language to keep the peace between our people—a requirement I regret not passing on to my own daughter. Now, if it is true you are the great Pietro Vasari, then the honor is all mine. But my father told me Pietro died many years ago.”

  Pietro chuckled. “Rumors have a way of spreading far and wide, even across the sea, apparently. I assure you, I am Pietro Vasari and I am very much alive, though perhaps a bit worse for the wear.”

  “My father admired your talent. He even displayed some of your paintings in the palace halls.”

  “And may I offer my condolences, Your Excellency. Samraat Jagesh was not only a champion of the arts, but also a champion of peace and justice.”

  “Thank you. He was a great leader, open-minded and diplomatic,” Ajeet mused. “But even he would view your arrival here as a violation of the treaty between our empires.”

  “Perhaps … But he would still hear me out before turning us away,” Pietro argued, a hint of his familiar gruffness coming through.

  After a moment of consideration, Ajeet nodded. “Then tell me, why are you here?”

  “As your daughter probably told you, my students and I have Geniuses. This has made us targets of Supreme Creator Nerezza. We’ve been on the run from her.”

  “And you want me to offer you protection?”

  “A roof over our heads and some food is all we require,” Pietro said.

  “I’m sorry for your predicament,” Ajeet said in a tone Giacomo found insincere. “But the safety of my people comes first. The last thing I need is for Nerezza to show up with her army, searching for you and your Geniuses. I cannot offer you aid.”

  “Your Excellency,” Giacomo blurted out. “We’re not a danger to you or your people. Nerezza has no idea we’re here.”

  “The answer is no!” Ajeet said sternly, then barked an order at Lavanthi in their native language. She stepped in front of the group and raised her katar, then pointed at the door, directing them to leave.

  “You can’t send us back to Zizzola!” Giacomo shouted at Ajeet.

  Pietro grabbed his arm. “That’s enough, Giacomo. Show some respect.”

  “Why? He’s not showing us any,” Giacomo muttered.

  “Wait.” The young man who had been observing Giacomo stepped forward. “I have a few questions.”

  “I’ve made my decision, Guru Yaday,” Ajeet snapped. “I don’t need your counsel in this matter.”

  Giacomo looked at the young man with new interest. He’s a guru? But how could someone so young be an adviser to a samraat?

  “But, Your Excellency, don’t you find it odd that Giacomo was able to travel through the empire, apparently unnoticed, without horses or supplies?” the guru asked. “And according to Lavanthi, they walked up to the gate, seemingly from out of nowhere. Who could survive the harsh conditions of our desert and approach without being seen?”

  “We … we flew here on Pietro’s Genius,” Giacomo said, trying to cover.

  “All six of you flew on the back of one Genius? I doubt that.” Yaday pointed to the Compass slung over Lavanthi’s shoulder, and she handed it to him. He gazed at the circular pattern on the handle, then pulled off the sheath. He gasped and turned to Ajeet. “I knew I sensed a powerful energy when they entered. Look!”

  Ajeet leaned forward, peering at the golden Tool. “Could that really be…?”

  Yaday snapped the Compass open and held it reverently up to Ajeet. “The Compass of the Gods,” Yaday pronounced.

  “No, that’s the Creator’s Compass,” Giacomo corrected. “It’s one of the Sacred Tools.”

  “You call it by one name,” Guru Yaday said, “but in Rachana, we know it as one of three Divine Yantras—powerful instruments used by our ten gods to keep the great world turning.”

  Savino snorted dismissively. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we found the Compass in Zizzola, so it can’t belong to your gods.”

  Yaday turned to Giacomo. “How did you come across it, exactly?”

  “Well…” Giacomo cleared his throat, then gave an abbreviated account of how he, Savino, Aaminah, and Milena had followed a trail of clues through Zizzola—clues that eventually led them to the cave in the mountains where they discovered the Compass. He introduced Ozo as the man who had been hired to protect them on their quest and purposely left out any mention of the Wellspring or Tulpas.

  Once Ajeet heard Giacomo’s account, his brow wrinkled. “Pietro, it seems you didn’t tell me the whole story. Why are you really here?”

  Before Pietro could answer, Giacomo spoke up. “It’s true, we came looking for more than a safe place to hide. We think one of the other Sacred Tools might be somewhere in Rachana.”

  “You seek the Straightedge,” Yaday said knowingly.

  Giacomo and Milena shared elated smiles. “We were right,” Milena said. “It is here!”

  “And you intend to steal it?” Ajeet’s voice rose in anger.

  “No … Well, not from you,” Giacomo tried to explain. “From the Preta who’s guarding it.”

  Ajeet’s and Yaday’s faces became terribly confused. “Preta?” Ajeet said. “What are you talking about?”

  Giacomo described his vision: the Straightedge in the cavern with lava, and the skeletal spirit who’d attacked him to protect it.

  Ajeet waved Yaday over to him and the two men conferred privately. Every few seconds, one or the other would shoot Giacomo a look of grave concern, causing him to wonder if he would be forced to return to Zizzola empty-handed. Finally, Yaday stepped to the edge of the dais and gazed down at Giacomo.

  “You’ve already acquired the Compass, and now you’ve been able to visualize the Straightedge … How is it that such a young artist seems to be linked so closely with the Sacred Tools, as you call them?”

  Giacomo didn’t like where this line of questioning was headed. “I got lucky, I guess?”

  “No, there is something different about you.” Yaday approached, circling Giacomo. “You have a powerful aura as well.”

  Giacomo shrank from Yaday’s probing stare. “Probably just the Compass’s energy rubbing off on me.”

  Yaday stopped and leaned in, his face inches from Giacomo’s nose. “What are you, Giacomo?”

  Giacomo’s breath caught. How could Yaday know the truth? It was as if the guru were looking not just into his eyes, but into his soul, as well. Giacomo felt a warmth spread across his chest and glanced down, half expecting to see the Creator’s Pattern glowing.

  When Giacomo had announced to Nerezza that he was a Tulpa, he’d known it would make him a target. The words had been an act of rebellion against Nerezza, a commitment to finding the Sacred Tools and ending her reign. So why was he so nervous to tell the truth to these strangers?

  Maybe because once they know, Lavanthi will run me through with her dagger? he thought darkly.

  “I’m a Tulpa,” Giacomo said, releasing a huge exhale.

  Yaday’s eyes brightened and he let out a tiny gasp. “I never thought I’d have the honor of meeting a Nirmita,” he said.

  As soon as Yaday said the word, Lavanthi and the other warriors in the throne room all stared at Giacomo, looking stunned.

  “Nirmita?” Giacomo asked, self-conscious, but thankful they hadn’t immediately attacked him.

  “In our language, it means ‘the one who has been created,’” Yaday explained, then turned to Ajeet. “This would seem to change the situation, Your Excellency.”

  “Indeed…” Ajeet rose to his feet and opened his arms. “Welcome to Rachana, Giacomo.”

  17

  THE LEGEND OF VRAMA

  Samraat Ajee
t strode from his throne room, beckoning Giacomo and his friends to follow.

  “I’m not really in the mood for a tour,” Ozo grumbled, holding his injured shoulder.

  “Lavanthi can take you to the healers,” Yaday offered. “They’ll tend to your wound.”

  “Anything to get me away from this lot,” Ozo said, casting a sidelong glare at Giacomo.

  While Ozo and Lavanthi disappeared down a long hall, Samraat Ajeet led the rest of the group out the back of the palace and onto a large terrace overlooking the grounds. The sun hung low in the sky, turning it a brilliant orange. Off in the distance, Giacomo spotted a lumbering elephant.

  Savino leaned over to Giacomo. “I don’t get it,” he said in a hushed voice. “The samraat finds out you’re a Tulpa, and he invites us to stay?”

  Giacomo shrugged. “It wasn’t the response I expected, either. But if it helps us get closer to the Straightedge, I’m not about to argue with him.”

  “And what did Yaday mean, ‘This would seem to change the situation’?” Savino said. “What do Ajeet and his guru want from you?”

  Yaday stepped over to them. “Is there a question I can answer?”

  “No,” Savino said brusquely. “We’re fine.”

  Ajeet directed everyone’s attention across the manicured lawns to a collection of buildings with red tiled roofs. “Our elite warriors and their Geniuses live over there,” Ajeet explained. “But the stables aren’t as full as they once were…”

  A stable boy approached, leading an armored horse-Genius with a dull grayish coat. Like Lavanthi’s Genius, this one was bone thin, with sagging wings. The Genius groaned as Ajeet took its reins. “It’s all right, Kavi.”

  “Is this your Genius?” Giacomo asked.

  Ajeet nodded and stroked the horse’s neck. “Shortly after I took the throne, I noticed Kavi was becoming lethargic and irritable. His wings molted, and he lost the strength to fly. Finally, his power waned altogether, and he was unable to project the simplest of shapes. If something isn’t done to save him, he will soon die, as many other Geniuses already have.”

  “Can I pet him?” Aaminah asked.

  With a nod, Ajeet stepped aside.

  Aaminah let Kavi sniff her hand, then she gently laid it on his snout. Kavi whinnied softly. Aaminah hung her head, and her eyes filled with sorrow. “I can feel his suffering.” She looked up at Ajeet. “I’m a healer. Maybe I can help. How did Kavi and the others get so sick?”

  “It’s not a sickness, exactly,” Ajeet said.

  “At first, that’s what we thought too,” Yaday explained. “Our own healers worked night and day, but nothing they did seemed to help. Then we got word that Geniuses in other cities had fallen ill too, and we began to suspect there might be another force at work. Thanks to Giacomo’s insight, we now have an idea who’s likely behind the demise of the Geniuses—Vrama.”

  “Who’s that?” Milena asked.

  “He was Rachana’s first samraat,” Ajeet said.

  “And based on Giacomo’s description of the Preta he saw, we believe it’s him,” Yaday said.

  “But how did he get the Straightedge?” Giacomo asked. “And how is he using it to make your Geniuses powerless?”

  “Follow me,” Yaday said. “Once you hear Vrama’s story, things should become clearer.”

  * * *

  Back inside, Yaday took them to a hidden alcove underneath a staircase. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Behind it, stone steps wound into darkness. Torch in hand, Yaday guided them downward.

  They entered a vast underground chamber buttressed by rows of thick, worn columns. Frescoes covered the rock walls, but instead of being painted, the images had been carved into the stone. More torches were mounted on the walls, and Yaday lit them one by one. The room filled with flickering light.

  “This was the original throne room,” Ajeet explained. “Here, the early samraats reigned during the age of the monad. Centuries later, the current palace was built over it.”

  Yaday moved toward the far end of the room, using his torch to illuminate another carved stone wall. This one was more elaborate than the others. “This relief depicts the story of how the ten gods gave Vrama possession of the Divine Yantras—or the Sacred Tools, as you know them.”

  Across the top of the relief were carvings of ten male and female figures clad in intricately patterned robes. Each god held a long staff topped by one of the ten sacred geometry shapes, from the monad’s circle to the decad’s ten-sided decagon.

  Giacomo’s eyes were drawn to the center of the image, where a man in a warrior’s armor flew on a horse-Genius, ringed by rays of light. The Compass, the Straightedge, and the Pencil hovered above him.

  Giacomo had been taught that the Creator had controlled the Tools. Still, this new theory was intriguing. “Why did the gods give Vrama the Sacred Tools?” he asked.

  “At the beginning of our current time cycle, the gods began a search to find the bravest, wisest, and mightiest warrior to lead the people,” Yaday explained. “To help them determine who was worthy of this great honor, they held a competition.” Yaday pointed to the bottom of the carving, where warriors and their horse-Geniuses clashed with one another. “Vrama emerged triumphant, so the gods declared him the first samraat of Rachana and granted him the use of the three Divine Yantras.”

  “For many years, Vrama used the Yantras for the betterment of Rachana and its people, as any samraat would aspire to do,” Ajeet cut in. “The Compass allowed him to travel to all corners of the empire so he could help solve disputes between warring tribes; the Straightedge amplified his Genius’s powers, allowing Vrama to cure droughts and protect coastal villages from storms; with the Pencil, he designed and built temples across the growing empire and devised a crop-irrigation system that put an end to famine. With Rachana now peaceful and prosperous, the gods returned to take back what belonged to them.”

  “But wielding so much power had corrupted Vrama, and ruling Rachana wasn’t enough for him,” Yaday said. “He wanted to overthrow the gods and take their place. So Vrama used the Yantras to make his palace fly, and he ascended to the heavens.”

  “Hold on,” Savino interrupted. “I was following you until the part about the flying palace. Now I know this is all made up.”

  “Yet you believe a single Creator came to Zizzola and used the Sacred Tools to bring into being everything in existence,” Yaday challenged.

  Savino crossed his arms and huffed. “Sounds more believable than Vrama soaring into space in a giant palace and warring with a bunch of gods.”

  Giacomo nudged Savino. “Will you just let him finish? I want to hear the rest.”

  Yaday brushed off Savino’s comments and continued. “Vrama and the gods clashed for seven days and seven nights. Eventually, the gods took back the Compass and the Pencil, but Vrama clung to the Straightedge. So the gods opened a portal and cast Vrama and his palace back to earth, where they crashed in a fiery explosion. The force was so great the ground erupted in hundreds of different places, creating all of Rachana’s volcanoes.” Yaday passed his torch over an image of lava-spewing volcanoes circling a giant crater.

  Ajeet picked up the tale, pointing to the carving of the crater. “Over the ages, the crash site became myth, a mystery that my predecessors and their gurus sought to unravel. Then, a couple of years ago, the Straightedge’s resting place was revealed to Guru Pankaj during one of his meditations.”

  Yaday nodded slowly, his expression traced with sadness. “My teacher persuaded Samraat Jagesh to assemble a team of warriors and lead a mission to retrieve the Straightedge. They never returned.”

  Ajeet explained how he had led a search party, hoping to find his father and the others. Instead, he discovered an enormous caldera that apparently had formed after one of Rachana’s many volcanoes erupted and caved in. Everyone had perished in what appeared to have been a tragic accident. Refusing to put any more lives at risk, Ajeet called off the search for his people and t
he Straightedge. But before returning home, Ajeet and his warriors performed a funeral ritual for those they had lost—Samraat Jagesh, Guru Pankaj, and the warriors, including Lavanthi’s husband.

  Aaminah gasped. “How horrible…”

  Ajeet turned to Giacomo. “Not long after, our horse-Geniuses began to weaken. At the time, we thought it was a coincidence, but now it seems clear that my father’s death was no accident. Your vision confirms our worst fears: Vrama still haunts the site where his palace crashed, and he killed my father and our people for trespassing.”

  “No wonder he was so furious when he saw me,” Giacomo said.

  “I read that Pretas are tied to the place where they died,” Milena said. “If Vrama can’t leave the caldera, how is he harming the Geniuses?”

  “He has to be using the Straightedge in some way,” Ajeet said.

  “But I thought it could only amplify a Genius’s power, not take it away,” Giacomo pointed out.

  “Vrama has had thousands of years to hone the Straightedge’s capability,” Yaday said. “It seems he’s devised a way to alter and extend its power.”

  Giacomo shivered. Could Vrama drain Mico’s power? “If that’s true, then Vrama is unstoppable.”

  “Not necessarily,” Ajeet said, a gleam in his eye. “Isn’t that right, Yaday?”

  Yaday froze, like Ajeet had put him on the spot. He looked down, scratched the few hairs on his chin, and sighed. “There is a way to vanquish him for good … But it will be extremely dangerous.” He glanced up at Giacomo. “For both of us.”

  Giacomo looked between the samraat and his guru, unable to imagine how this was going to end well for him. “But you two just got through telling me how Vrama killed a bunch of Rachana’s best warriors. Why would I want to go anywhere near that caldera?”