The Simoqin Prophecies

by Samit Basu

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Red Pearl was on guard. She looked at her fellow travelers, sleeping in the shadows of a large tree. She raised her head and sniffed the night air. She looked at the moon, a thin white curve above the wood, and the glittering stars in the clear dark sky.

  She trotted away from the sleepers. She was tired of these humans, clumsy, noisy, simple. She was tired of the slow pace they were moving at. But there was always the moon.

  Red Pearl held out her arms to the dying moon and walked in the starlight. She reveled in the soft glow, feeling the last quiet rays of the old moon sliding along her glowing skin, caressing her, bathing her. She took a deep breath. Finally, nothing binding her, no one watching her, she was free…

  ‘And I thought the stars were beautiful,’ said the Silver Dagger softly, jumping down, catlike, from a nearby tree.

  Red Pearl sighed. Back to work. ‘Save the charm for humans,’ she said, but she smiled. ‘Or grow a horse’s body and a tail, and I am yours. I warn you, though, centaurs mate for life.’

  ‘The world is full of bad ideas,’ said the Dagger. He looked around. ‘All asleep?’

  ‘Yes. Kirin took a long time, though.’

  ‘That boy is more than he appears to be, I can feel it. But tell me, Pearl, does anyone suspect anything?’

  ‘Asvin has been asking me many questions. I don’t know when he got it into his head that you were following us. I assured him you weren’t, but he wasn’t convinced. But he is no threat, and he lacks the skill to see you when you don’t want to be seen. I pretended I didn’t know where you were, or what you were doing. But I was never a very convincing liar, was I.’

  ‘It must have been something the Civilian said, then. I don’t want him finding me out – that would be a grievous blow to professional pride. What do you think of him?’

  ‘He’s more intelligent than he seems. His woodcraft is sufficient, but he lacks patience. Which, again, is a good thing if you’re a hero.’

  ‘And Kirin?’

  ‘I like him too, and like you, I don’t know why. He’s hiding something in that little bag of his.’

  ‘We shall find out what it is, trust me. Now listen. Your assignment has been revised a little.’

  ‘Because of the crow? I was wondering if it might be a good idea to just shoot it.’

  ‘It’s not just one crow, they’re operating in shifts. No, they will find us; killing one will only answer their questions and confirm that Spikes is the pashan they seek. You must watch Spikes at all times, Pearl.’

  ‘I’ve been doing that. I’m fairly sure he knows nothing about this Danh-Gem’s bodyguard business. He seems really attached to Kirin. I tried to find out from Kirin how he became Spikes’ master, but he was evasive. He isn’t as drawn to me as he wants little Maya to think. Well, he might be, but his mind is still working clearly.’

  ‘Modest, aren’t you,’ said the Dagger. ‘I think the vanars will attack fairly soon. If we read the signs right. Perhaps they already await us in the Bleak Forest. We have been moving too slowly.’

  ‘Of course we read the signs right. We always do. But we will deal with the attack when it comes. What is my revised assignment, then?’

  ‘If Spikes leaves the group at any stage, I want you to follow him. I will have to stay with Asvin. See where he goes, and don’t let him see you.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to.’

  ‘I got a scarab from the Civilian today. Almost gave my hiding-place away, when it buzzed down from the sky. She said Yarni had been attacked again, so it is imperative that Spikes does not fall into vanar hands.’

  ‘He won’t. Not while I’m alive.’

  ‘Stay alive, then. The Civilian also said Bjorkun had left, and was heading eastwards, but that was a ruse – as soon as he finds and kills whoever’s tracking him, he’ll be off to Artaxerxia.’

  ‘And will he be meeting you there?’

  ‘No. I am to guard Asvin until he is fully trained. The vaman is strong and very clever, but I will be needed, I think. The Civilian herself had not anticipated the vanars getting involved.’

  ‘I would be happier if this whole pashan issue were resolved. There is much that needs to be done in my homeland, and I grow weary of this journey.’

  ‘I think it’s a good sign that Spikes is here, and we can keep an eye on him. Do not leave him alone with Asvin. And if you have to fight him, do not engage him in close combat; shoot him from as far away as possible. I know you are immensely strong, but so is he. And I do not want anything to happen to you, Pearl. The centaurs need you, and so do I.’

  ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘I know.’

  There was silence for a while.

  Then the Dagger whispered ‘Someone’s coming,’ and disappeared.

  His ears are sharper than mine, though Red Pearl, as she turned and saw Spikes walking towards her. Had he seen anything? ‘What is it?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘I heard voices,’ said Spikes.

  ‘We centaurs talk to the dying moon. It’s an ancient custom.’

  ‘I think we are being followed. I was looking down the road in the evening, and I saw a black shape slip into the woods. I will stand guard with you.’

  ‘It is quite all right,’ said Red Pearl sharply, ‘I will wake you if anything approaches.’

  They eyed each other warily for some time.

  ‘Is Kirin awake?’ asked Red Pearl.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Very nice young man. How long have you known him?’

  ‘Long enough,’ said Spikes gruffly. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to keep watch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good night, then,’ and Spikes walked back to where the others were sleeping, quickly and quietly.

  After a while, Pearl looked up at the tree, but the Dagger had disappeared. Long enough, she thought grimly. She flexed her arm and watched the muscles ripple in the starlight.

  A little while later, a short distance away, the vanars were preparing to attack. There were three of them, sitting on a low branch of a large tree, clad in mail-vests, longbows in their hands. They were talking to a crow.

  ‘I’m telling you, they’re all sleeping, except the centaur,’ said Corporal One-hundred-and-two ‘Thunderbird’. ‘I just went and checked.’

  ‘Did anyone see you?’ asked a vanar, taking an arrow out of a quiver.

  ‘The centaur saw me, I think, but I’m just a bird to her. She was talking to the pashan, anyway.’

  ‘No one else saw you?’

  ‘No. They’re all sleeping, I told you.’

  ‘Lord Bali will be pleased. We will take the pashan tonight, and the boy, and kill all the rest.’

  ‘I don’t think we should attack now,’ said another vanar. ‘We should follow them, see where they’re going.’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you, our orders do not concern the rest. Lord Bali told me himself,’ replied the first.

  ‘Where is he now? Did he return to Vanarpuri after his glorious victory in the city?’

  ‘No. The last crow said he was still somewhere near Kol, and was speaking of having to travel soon. And that was four days ago. He’s still in hiding; the guards of Kol are looking for him. He sees no one except the crow Kraken.’

  ‘Commander Kraken,’ said Thunderbird.

  ‘Yes. So it’s settled, we attack now. Shoot the centaur first, centaurs are good archers, almost as good as us. I will kill the sleepers.’

  ‘I don’t like this. There is no honour in this slaying. We vanars are warriors, not assassins,’ said the second vanar. The third vanar sighed.

  ‘Times change,’ said the first, tersely, ‘Let’s go. Ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the second.

  ‘Nala?’

  The third vanar didn’t reply. He wasn’t there.

  ‘Where did he go now?’ asked the first crossly. ‘He was here a second ago.’

  No one replied. There was a soft thud. />
  The vanar didn’t turn around. He jumped out of the tree and soared to another, fitting an arrow to his bow and looking around wildly. Curse the bird! He had been followed!

  ‘Show yourself!’ he shouted, desperately looking around. He saw his fallen comrades lying at the foot of the tree, their bodies twisted at odd angles. They were quite dead.

  ‘They’re dead! They fell off the branch!’ yelled Thunderbird, flapping his wings loudly as he perched nearby.

  ‘Get away from me,’ hissed the vanar. There was a sudden stinging pain in his neck. Curse the wasps! Now was not the time!

  He fell dead.

  Thunderbird panicked and flew upwards fast, but it was too late. A dart pierced his wing, the poison spread instantly and he crashed into a tree and slid to the ground.

  The Dagger emerged into the pale moonlight a while later, quickly and methodically searched the vanars’ bodies, found nothing, and melted into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The company rose early, and set off further southwards. The Bleakwood stood scarred and deserted in the bright sunlight. They crossed the stretch of charred ground that separated the Bleakwood from the wood they had slept in, and rode among the gloomy trees. Once this had been a lush, green forest, part of western Psomedea – it had run to the borders of Elaken and there it had merged with Vrihataranya, like a river running into the ocean.

  Then the knights of Ventelot, long before the Age of Terror, had overrun the land, clearing the forest, fighting the Psomedeans and driving them eastwards, towards the Centaur Forests and their capital, Ajaxis. In the hills the armies of Ventelot had built castles, in the plains great barracks; they had then pushed north and far to the east, conquering Avranti. Then King Amrit had driven the forces of Ventelot back to the west, founding Kol on the banks of the Asa.

  Years later, far in the north, the rakshas Danh-Gem had driven Ventelot’s knights even further away, founding the realm of Imokoi, and freeing the wild horse-men and pirates of Skuanmark. Ventelot still existed, of course, but now it was a minor power holding the lands to the north-west of Artaxerxia and its chief concern was keeping the land-hungry Artaxerxians and Skuans at bay. But it was not during the years of Ventelot’s power that the Bleakwood had got its name.

  The fiercest battles of the Great War had taken place in the ruined plains now called Danh-Gem’s Wasteland. Danh-Gem’s dragons and magical blasts had burned their way through the woods of Psomedea, destroying some parts of the forest forever and ravaging the rest with fire. Some tall trees still stood, leafless and black, eternal testimony to Danh-Gem’s destructive powers. Some other parts of the forest had grown again in the two hundred years since the Great War. The trees were tall, but they huddled together as if still afraid of dragon-fire. As the travelers rode under them, the forest seemed to creak and grumble, as if ancient wood-spirits below the earth were brooding over the evils of years past. No light penetrated the thick leaf-canopy. This was darkness unlike the darkness of Vrihataranya – there the forest shut out the sun as a brazen display of power, not to hide whatever lay beneath from watchful eyes.

  The travelers rode in the eerie silence, not speaking, their horses’ hoof-beats sounding jarringly loud and then dying suddenly, muffled by the oppressive air. On the hills in the western parts of the Bleakwood, they saw the ruins of abandoned castles still disfiguring the horizon, standing jagged and cruel like the teeth of burned skulls. The land remembered bloodshed, treachery and death.

  The Psomedean Empire had been destroyed in the Great War, and the centaurs now ruled Ajaxis – they had let the Centaur Forests into the great city, where trees and buildings now lived in harmony. The Great Colloseum of Ajaxis was still famous, and people from all over the world gathered there to watch chariot-races and the centaurs’ athletic contests. But no one had ever gone back to the Bleakwood. There were parts of that desolate wood that had not seen humans for more than three hundred years.

  The northern half of the Bleakwood was completely deserted, though it was said that old ghosts and evil spirits sometimes wandered there, across Danh-Gem’s Wasteland, from the pyramids of Elaken or the mountains of Imokoi. But the southern half, through which they were riding, was rumoured to be full of bandits. These were the failures of the criminal world, who had been muscled out of Kol and other cities by the young and the unscrupulous–led by the famous Tlotlot the Highwayman, they had occupied some old castles and lived there in miserable poverty, dreaming of days when they would move back to rich cities or prosperous trade routes. They had been forced to give up their lives of crime, simply because rich people did not come to the Bleakwood. Even the actors who had started coming to Bolvudis Island generally took the longer route, traveling by road to Ajaxis and then by sea. And the bandits of Bleakwood were poor, but they were still proud. They had once been criminals of repute. They would not stoop to robbing aspiring actors.

  Maya snapped a twig off a dead tree as she rode by it, looked at it and thought about fire. It burst into flames instantly. It was a good day for magic. As she blew it out and rode on, she suddenly thought it had become a little colder. The forest did not like fire. It stirred up bad memories.

  They rode fast through the trees, heading for a little stream some distance ahead. Asvin and Gaam formed the advance party; Red Pearl ran behind them. Then came Amloki, with the horses bearing their packs, followed by Kirin and Maya. Queeen kept up effortlessly with the horses, and Spikes raced a little distance behind, his heavy feet leaving deep grooves in the grassless earth. Asvin and Gaam tried to sing from time to time, but faltering eventually, jerking up and down as the horses galloped over the hard ground.

  Asvin was quite fascinated by the castles, and asked Gaam whether Ventelot had used magic to conquer so much of the world.

  ‘No,’ Gaam said, ‘they were all quite hopeless at magic. Their spellbinders, called druids, did very little apart from supervising the creation of large circles of monoliths – the largest one is in Imokoi, called the Circle of Darkness. Why they made these stone rings, no one knows, but their magical abilities were very limited.

  ‘No, what made Ventelot great was the valour of the knights of the Almost-Perfectly-Circular Table. And the fact that their enemies would generally stand and laugh at their strange armour right up to the moment they got lances through their stomachs.’

  ‘What was the armour like?’ asked Asvin. They had reached the stream, which ran merrily and somewhat defiantly through the middle of the dreary Bleakwood. The waters were quite deep here – they had planned to cross an old bridge a little further downstream.

  ‘Well, it was really comical. Useful for mounted combat on a battlefield, but really cumbersome at close quarters. A nimble asur with a dagger could take a knight on any time. Your standard knight of Ventelot looked like a large, awkward tin soldier. Like that knight standing in the middle of the bridge, look,’ said Gaam. He was silent for a moment, wondering what he had just said. Then he looked again.

  His eyes hadn’t been fooling him.

  A knight clad in ancient, rusty armour stood in the middle of the bridge. His battle-stained shield had the emblem of a black cat on it.

  They rode up to the bridge. The knight saw them and drew his sword.

  ‘I don’t remember him being here,’ said Red Pearl, puzzled.

  ‘I’ll handle this,’ said Gaam riding forward. ‘Hail, Sir Knight!’ he called.

  The knight stuck his sword into the wooden bridge. He spoke in a deep, booming voice.

  ‘No One Passes,’ he said.

  The words echoed a little, probably because of the armour.

  ‘Who are you, O noble one?’ asked Gaam, ‘My friend the centauress has walked these lands many times, but she has never seen one as mighty as you.’

  ‘Then heed my words, dwarf,’ – the Kol-dwellers all flinched and looked at Gaam, but he was unmoved – ‘and tell thy woman-horse I am Sir Cyr, Guardian of the Bridge.’

  ‘Sir what?’ asked Gaam.r />
  ‘Sir Cyr.’

  ‘Never mind. How long have you been guardian of the bridge, Sir Knight?’

  ‘It matters not,’ the armour creaked as the knight stamped his foot on the bridge again, ‘No One Passes.’

  ‘I could challenge him to a duel,’ whispered Asvin.

  ‘I’m negotiating, be quiet.’

  ‘Right. Sorry.’

  ‘Why are you guarding the bridge, Sir Knight?’

  Stamp.

  ‘Very well then. We will just have to take the other bridge, then.’

  ‘The other bridge?’ asked Asvin, whose mind was keen but straight, like a spear.

  ‘Ah yes, the other bridge,’ said Kirin, whose mind was keen and twisted, like a corkscrew.

  ‘The one with the young girl in a grass skirt who puts a garland around your neck and welcomes you to the south?’ asked Maya, getting into the spirit of things.

  ‘The other bridge that’s a little way down, just out of sight from here?’ asked Amloki.

  ‘There is another bridge?’ asked Sir Cyr, suddenly sounding old and weary.

  ‘Yes,’ said Gaam, cleverly answering everyone’s questions simultaneously.

  Behind the visor, Sir Cyr’s eyes blinked balefully. Under the armour, his shoulders sagged.

  ‘The reason we came here is that there’s always a queue there. You know how it is with young girls and garlands. Now come, sir, you are a knight noble, fair and chivalrous. We come in peace. Let us pass,’ said Gaam.