by Samit Basu
And read–
“On whosoever would bring me back to my days of glory, I lay this charge–
When the moon is full in the month of Dragons, journey to the Circle of Darkness and in the pentagonal Altar Stone lay down five objects.
First, a claw from the hand of the son of Katar, lord of pashans, my most faithful servant and adviser. For I will unite the pashans again.
Second, the most precious gem the humans own. For the strongest passion the humans feel is greed, and through greed and power-lust will I rule their hearts, minds and lands.
Third, a jinn-lamp from the sands of the west. For jinns, ifrits and rakshases are my siblings, and their world is my world.
Fourth, the iron crown of the asurs. For when the asurs are united, nothing can stand before them.
Fifth, and most important, bring me the Gauntlet of Tatsu, that I may ride the dragons again.
Bring me but these five things, and when my followers are united, and the moon is full in the month of Dragons, I will rise again, and give you all your hearts desire, a world of truth and beauty, of power and wealth beyond your wildest dreams.”
Of course, Hooba knew too. He was sitting next to Kirin, smiling smugly. But he could kill Hooba, throw Hooba out of the chamber, down on the rocks below. Then no one would know except him. Then he could destroy this book, and no one would ever know. No one could raise Danh-Gem.
Then he remembered. No one knew more about Danh-Gem than Narak the Demon-hunter, and Narak the Demon-hunter tells you this – Danh-Gem always had an alternative plan.
Perfect. But his parents spent their lives fighting this creature, so he would take their word for it. And tell the vanar. And help him get the things Danh-Gem spoke of.
He went back into the inner chamber with Hooba.
Bali sat there with one of his soldiers and Spikes. He looked up as Kirin entered.
He listened in silence as Kirin told him what to do.
Then he said, ‘Thank you, Karisman. Words cannot express how much joy and hope you have given me. Now we will unite the followers of Danh-Gem, and we will get these five objects. But do not tell anyone about the Circle of Darkness. That we will keep secret until the time comes.’
So you don’t trust your allies any more than I trust you. But you will not be there when Danh-Gem rises again, Bali lord of vanars. I owe Red Pearl at least that much.
Bali’s other henchman returned later with bad news. Centaurs were patrolling, in great numbers, the northern borders of the forest and the land east of where they were. Getting out would be difficult. But Bali refused to worry about all that. He was in really high spirits.
Night came, and the vanars, who disliked closed spaces, went to the outer passage to keep watch in turn while the others slept. Kirin leaned on the rock-wall in the inner chamber and shut his eyes. He was soon fast asleep.
You look like me, but you have your mother’s eyes.
Kirin was wide awake in an instant. He looked around. Hooba snored in a corner, and Spikes stood calmly by the chamber wall, watching.
Kirin took the book out of the bag, went to the tunnel behind the waterfall and pulled the rock-door shut. There was a muffled thump as Spikes sat down next to it, on the other side. Kirin opened the book.
There was his father, and he was smiling.
Have Danh-Gem’s vassals found you?
‘Yes,’ said Kirin, and quickly whispered the events of the last few days. He told Narak about the five things they had to get to raise Danh-Gem.
This is news indeed. And you translated this in two days, while the human spellbinders could not in two centuries? That was well done, son. Though I always did think humans were sorry creatures.
‘I’m a little worried about that, actually,’ said Kirin. ‘Everything seems to be far too easy. Bali seems to really like me now. I thought it would be far more difficult.’
You have been among humans too long, son. Let things be as they are – if they are less difficult and convoluted than you expected, be grateful, not uneasy. Remember this, it is important – most often the simplest solution is indeed the best one. As I am sure you will find out in time.
And as for the fact that these creatures appear to trust you, think nothing of it. Have you never heard of the ravian powers of mind control?
‘I have,’ said Kirin, ‘but I don’t know how to control minds.’
Mind control, sadly, is a thing that has to be taught. The power is within you, but it is too late for you to learn how to use it to deadliest effect. Even I could not use it fully, for when I was young I was too poor to pay for the training, and when I was rich I was too old. But remember this – creatures who have no magic in them will always like you, and want to trust you and believe you. Use this to your advantage, Kirin.
‘Have I done the right thing? Should I have thrown the book away? Should I help them gather the objects they need?’ Kirin blurted out.
You have done very well. And yes, help them. Make sure you are deep in their trust. That will make it easier for you to fool them in the end. Because believe me, Danh-Gem will reappear. I do not even think he needs these objects for his rebirth. It might even all be a ruse. Danh-Gem may simply be doing a lot of his foul work in advance – uniting his soldiers, getting the things he needs – so that he can start off his grand scheme to conquer the world immediately. For all you know, Danh-Gem may already be awake, and may be walking this earth even as we speak, waiting for his vassals to assemble, and then he will appear to them in all his glory. Throwing the book away would have been folly.
Now you will have to travel all over the world, and there is not much time. Which brings me to what I have been saving my strength for. Let me tell you quickly, for my strength wanes with every word I speak, and every new evil creature that appears in the world. Son, do you know the legend of the Chariot of Vul?
‘Yes,’ said Kirin.
Vul Kunpo was one of the most famous vamans in history. He had been the most skilled vaman craftsman who had ever come up to the surface of the earth, and many of the most marvelous tools, machines and buildings in the world were his creations. During the Age of Terror Vul had reached the height of his powers.
Danh-Gem and the King of Kol had both wanted to win over the vamans. The vamans had been neutral until then – they had earned a lot of money providing weapons to both sides in the war, and they had no particular grudge against either. They were not very concerned with what happened above the surface, and no one threatened their vast cities deep underground.
The legend said that Danh-Gem and the King of Kol had both gone to Vul to plead for his assistance and his doughty soldiers, for Vul was also the chieftain of all the vamans who lived above ground. They had reached his home on the same day, and the King of Kol had arrived first. Vul had promised weapons, armour and his small but mighty army of vaman warriors to him. And then Danh-Gem had arrived, and promptly killed the King.
Vul had no quarrel with Danh-Gem, but he had already pledged his allegiance. To appease Danh-Gem (and save his own life) he had promised to make him a chariot so wonderful that its powers alone would surpass all the gifts that he would give to Kol. And then Vul had made the Chariot of Vul, which Danh-Gem had loved so fiercely that he had taken Vul prisoner, to ensure that he could not make any more such chariots for his enemies.
No one had ever seen the Chariot of Vul, but the histories all said that Danh-Gem could disappear at one end of the world and reappear in a few days at another. It was with the Chariot of Vul that Danh-Gem had first stolen the Gauntlet of Tatsu from the fiercely guarded Wu Sen Monastery in Xi’en.
Before I let myself be captured by the slaves of Danh-Gem, continued Narak, I roamed at will in the heart of his evil land, and even entered his dungeons and set free many of those he was torturing.
Once, in the heart of the dungeons of Imokoi, I found an old vaman hanging upside down, forgotten, in a deep, dark chamber. I cut the chains that bound him and healed him with a spell.
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It was Vul. Years of torture had ruined his mind and body, but he rewarded me richly for rescuing him. He told me the incantation that would raise his Chariot from the bowels of the earth. I could not use it then, for the Chariot accepts only one master at a time, but I remembered the incantation. I had said I would give you four gifts, Kirin. My second gift to you is the Chariot of Vul. Use it well.
‘But you said the Chariot could have only one master at a time.’
That is true. And I want you to be that one master, Kirin, for no one else in the world knows the incantation. But let us see. If the chariot does not come when you call, it could only mean that Danh-Gem has already returned. Listen closely, for I can only tell you the incantation once. I grow weak.
‘I noticed,’ said Kirin, for the now familiar headache had returned. He leaned closer to the book. ‘Tell me,’ he said.
And then, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, he listened intently as Narak told him.
As the first rays of the sun chased away the darkness under the leaves of the Centaur Forests, Kirin and the others climbed up the rest of the rock-face to the bank of the stream, before it plunged into the rapids far below. Then Kirin looked around and found a relatively clear stretch of ground – a circle thirty feet across, Narak had said – and then, feeling incredibly self-conscious, he knelt in the centre, put his hand on the ground, as Narak had instructed, and muttered the incantation, thankful that the dim roar of the waterfall muffled his words, because he thought it sounded really silly.
At first, nothing happened.
He hadn’t told Bali what he was trying to do, and Bali looked impatient and annoyed. The vanar-soldiers prowled around in the trees, bows in their hands, surveying the forest for centaurs.
Then suddenly, the earth shuddered.
And Kirin’s hand sank into the earth, as if it had been water. Large ripples started flowing outwards, the grass bobbing up and down. The ripples extended across a circle, about thirty feet across, and then stopped abruptly. Kirin snatched his hand out of the earth, and heard many little popping noises as bubbles burst out of the earth in the circle, leaving little craters in their wake.
‘What is this, Karisman?’ said Bali in a voice full of wonder.
‘I bring forth the Chariot of Vul, the chariot that Danh-Gem himself used, to move at incredible speeds across the earth in the Great War,’ said Kirin, as grandly as he could. ‘Get ready to leave – unless you want to walk, of course.’
‘Get the books,’ snapped Bali. His soldiers disappeared.
The bubbles grew larger, and the popping noises louder.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. They waited in silence.
The earth shook again, and Kirin saw, to his alarm, that the centre of the circle was bulging, as a huge bubble, a dome as big as the circle, began to rise slowly out of the earth. He saw the grass in the circle sliding off the growing bubble like rivulets and collecting at the edge of the circle, forming a thick green growing ring. Kirin slid off the swelling circle of earth and watched silently. Bali fitted an arrow to his bow and pointed it at what was now a thirty-foot-wide dome in the middle of the Centaur Forests.
Then the bubble popped, noiselessly, leaving a huge crater. Kirin looked down, and saw a deep, hemispherical, perfectly smooth basin.
There were two things in the basin. One was an earthen chariot, large enough for four people, but it was unlike any chariot Kirin had ever seen, and he had studied many books about war. First of all, it had a wide seat. And the front was open, and there were two huge parallel bars extending from under the seat.
This isn’t a chariot, Kirin thought, this is a rickshaw.
The other thing in the basin was the rickshaw-puller, then.
It was a golem. None of them had ever seen a golem before, though Kirin had seen paintings of the clay servants of the vamans. He was huge, his black eyes burning in his impassive clay face, his hands folded together as he looked at Kirin.
‘I am Mritik, Charioteer of Vul,’ he said, ‘at your service as long as you live. What is your name, master?’
‘Kirin,’ said Kirin, ‘How long will it take you to get us to Vrihataranya?’
‘Where in Vrihataranya?’
‘Vanarpuri.’
‘Three days.’
‘Three days? That’s amazing!’ cried Bali.
Kirin stepped into the basin and slid down to the rickshaw. ‘It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mritik,’ he said.
‘I am your humble slave, master.’
‘Let’s have no more of this master-slave nonsense. I think we are going to be friends.’ Until I kill your last master, anyway.
‘As you wish, master.’
Spikes and Hooba slid in and mounted the rickshaw while Bali handed his soldiers the glad news that they would have to make it to Vanarpuri on their own.
‘Tell me,’ asked Kirin, ‘did you drive Danh-Gem yourself? What was he like?’
‘My last master forbade me to reveal anything about him. I cannot disobey.’
‘Right.’
Bali joined the merry throng on the rickshaw seat.
‘You amaze me, Karisman, again and again.’ he said. ‘For the first time, I actually think our schemes are going to work. And it is all because of you. It astounds me to think that I have only known you for four days. It seems like years.’
‘Should we set off, master?’ asked Mritik.
‘Yes.’
Mritik pulled up the rickshaw bars in his giant hands. Above them, they saw earth rising in a dome, and the circle of light growing smaller and smaller and then closing completely. Now they sat in pitch darkness. Kirin knew they were inside the bubble now, and Bali fidgeted, uncomfortable in the enclosed space.
A little shudder ran through the earth.
‘Are we moving down through the earth, Mritik?’
‘Yes, master.’
‘So is it going to be complete darkness for three days?’
‘No, master. When we reached the vaman tunnels, there will be light.’
The vaman tunnels? Kirin had heard of those. According to rumour, they connected the mysterious vaman cities to one another and the vaman mines on the surface. Huge loads of precious metals, probably drawn by golems, moved through these shafts every day, it was said.
The vaman mines were deep and vast, but they were nothing compared to the cities of the vamans, deep, deep underground, where metals were forged that no man had ever seen. How many vamans were there in the world, digging deeper, building strange machines that would never see the sky? What if they suddenly decided they wanted the lands above ground as well? But they wouldn’t, if the books Kirin had read on the subject could be trusted. The things they loved were all underground.
‘We descend,’ said Mritik. ‘This is the slow part of the journey. When we reach the tunnels, we will travel fast.’
A few hours passed in darkness that slowly grew rancid; Bali’s reaction to this voluntary burial was to sweat continuously and copiously. Then there was a little bump as their descent ended. Then there was light: bright, blinding light, as the bubble they were descending in popped open, and they found themselves in the largest tunnel Kirin had ever seen.
The walls of the tunnel were hundreds of feet across, and were lit with dazzling crystal vaman-lamps. A double row of tower-high pillars, smooth and grey, ran down the middle of the tunnel, flanking a broad, white, perfectly even road running like a streak of silver on the grey-black stone of the tunnel floor.
The walls were grey and streaked with coloured striations – green, red, blue, golden lines of precious ores. Kirin imagined rows and rows of vamans, marching ant-like from city to city, or drawn by great golem-drawn carts.
‘We are deeper in the earth than any human has ever been,’ said Mritik. ‘This maze of tunnels extends nearly all over the world, from Skuanmark to Psomedea, from Xi’en to Artaxerxia. The vamans themselves have not explored further.’
‘How long ha
ve these tunnels existed? How many are there? Can we go to the vaman cities?’
‘I am forbidden to answer any of these questions.’
‘By your last master?’
‘No, by my creator, the great vaman Vul. Other beings are not allowed in vaman cities. I cannot take you there unless a vaman instructs me to, and no vaman ever will.’
‘But don’t vamans use these tunnels? Won’t they see us?’
‘No, master. The Chariot of Vul is truly unique. Vamans can see us if we stand still: we are visible now. But when we move, all that can be seen of us by others in these tunnels is a slight shimmer in the air – and all those who travel in these tunnels travel on the road in the centre, not along the walls as we will, and move very fast themselves.’
‘Show us.’
Mritik began to run, the pounding of his great feet echoing in the vast vaman tunnel. There were other noises too – muffled, remote clangs and thuds, whispering echoes gliding through the tunnel. Kirin imagined huge mills, hammers and furnaces far away. It was cold. They passed pillar after giant pillar on their left, and lamp after shiny lamp on their right, until it all became a blur, and it seemed to Kirin that they were sitting still in the rickshaw. The lamps became a river of dazzling light and the pillars ran the other way, torn out of their places by the great wind that blasted through the tunnel and forced them back on their clay seat. He would have loved to spend more time in the tunnel, simply looking at the beautifully crafted lamps and the strange colours in the walls, but a glance at his fellow passengers on the speeding rickshaw reminded him that now was probably not the best time.
The rickshaw of Vul sped northwards.
Back in the Centaur Forests, Kraken had left for Vrihataranya, but the vanars weren’t having much fun.
This was because they were both dead, lying in the rapids with centaur arrows in their necks. The arrows belonged to a centauress named Green Bow.