by Melvin, Jim
“Hello?” came another voice, also distant. “Asēkha . . . may I approach?”
“Who is that?” Nimm repeated.
Though usually hyper-aware of her surroundings, Tāseti was slow to respond. When she finally raised her head, a woman stood just a few paces away. Tāseti lifted Appam’s uttara menacingly.
The newcomer dropped to her knees in obeisance. “Please do not harm me! I am no threat to the girl, much less to one as great as you.”
“Go away!” Tāseti said bitterly. “I have enough problems. I can’t afford to assume another.”
This time, it was the woman who cried. “I saw . . . I saw,” she mumbled.
“Saw what?” said Nimm, her voice wary.
Now Tāseti’s curiosity was raised. “Speak!”
The woman coughed and held her throat, beckoning for water. Tāseti reluctantly allowed her to take several large gulps from Nimm’s skin, which already was close to empty. After she had drunk, the woman seemed stronger.
“I saw the giant kill the Tugar . . . eat the Tugar. It was . . . horrible.”
“Don’t be stupid!” Nimm shouted, surprising them both. “Nothing can hurt a Tugar . . . nothing! Right, Tāseti?”
Tāseti did not respond. Instead, she glared into the eyes of the woman. “Then what?”
The woman’s whisper was barely audible. “Afterward, the giant grew even bigger. Twice as big. And it hurt me to look at it. Burned my eyes. Black smoke came from its mouth, and it stank, even from far away. I buried myself in the sand, so that just my nose was above the surface, and lay without moving. I believe the giant knew I was there, but after eating the Tugar it was no longer interested in me. Still, hiding saved me from the other monsters—the normal-sized ones—that were following her. When you’re covered in sand, they can’t seem to smell you. That’s how a lot of us have stayed alive. When the monsters come near, we bury ourselves. Some of the time, it works.”
“How big?”
“Asēkha?”
“How big was the monster?”“Afterward, you mean? Taller than any tree that grows in Tējo.”
“Don’t be stupid!” Nimm repeated. “She’s stupid,” she said directly to Tāseti.
Tāseti sighed. She took a tiny sip from her skin, which also was almost empty. All together, what they had was barely enough to last Nimm and her a day, much less allow any for the camel. Despite its suffering, the beast stood loyally beside her, blood oozing from both nostrils.
Now it was almost noon and as hot a day as Tāseti had ever experienced. Even Tāseti was getting dizzy; she could only imagine how Nimm and the woman felt. The small portion of Cirāya that remained in her belt-pack was her only hope, their only hope. Tāseti was amazed that she had allowed herself to become mired in such a desperate situation. It had all begun with Nimm, but it wasn’t like she could have abandoned her. If they had more water and a stronger camel, she could send the girl with the woman to Wuul and then chase Tathagata by herself on foot. But without Tāseti to take care of them, their chances of survival would be minimal, especially with fiends seemingly wandering around everywhere.
“We need shade,” Tāseti said. “I believe there are some rock outcroppings not far from here. We’ll move slowly and do our best.”
“I can come with you?” the woman said.
“Yes. But I will say when we drink and how much.”
“You are Asēkha,” the woman replied, as if that were all that need be said.
“I don’t feel like one now.”
They managed less than a league before the camel collapsed. Nimm was thrown to the side, but she landed in soft sand and was unharmed. The camel coughed and wheezed, its legs kicking in a series of spasms. Tāseti used Appam’s blade to end its misery, then knelt before the beast and kissed it on the snout.
“Tumhe marittha bahuumaanena ca vikkamena. N’atthi uttara pasamsaa (You died with honor and bravery. There is no higher praise),” she said. These were the same words that Kusala had used to honor the slaves that had been killed in their battle on the border of Java. To Tāseti, that seemed like ages ago, though in reality it had been less than a month.
Tāseti hacked off one of the camel’s rear legs and flung it over her shoulder.
“If we can find shelter, at least we’ll have some meat.”
By midafternoon, all three were stumbling like drunks, though the woman had proven to be more resilient than Tāseti could have hoped, carrying Nimm piggyback for surprisingly long stretches. When they finally reached the outcroppings, they barely had the strength to crawl under cover. But Nimm surprised Tāseti by grabbing her goatskin and slithering into a crevice in the rocks barely a span and a half in width.
“Where’s she going?” the woman said.
“Sometimes she finds water.”
“She’s an amazing little girl. She reminds me of my youngest daughter.” Then the woman burst into tears. “Gone . . . all gone.”
Nimm remained in the crevice long enough to make Tāseti anxious. She could barely slide the thickest portion of her arm into the crack that the girl had entered, much less crawl in to find her. Just when she was getting ready to shout into the narrow opening, Nimm reappeared with a smile on her face.
“Water!” she said proudly, reaching out and handing Tāseti the skin, which was now almost full. “It’s just a trickle. That’s what took me so long to fill it. But it tastes great. Drink it all and then give it back—and the other skin too. I’ll fill them both.”
While Nimm was gone, Tāseti built a small fire out of some scraggly bushes that grew among the tumble of boulders, and then she began the slow process of roasting the thigh meat of the camel. When Nimm re-emerged, she stood up and stretched out her body.
“It was tight in there. If I weren’t so skinny from not eating, I don’t think even I could have gotten to the water.”
“You’re very brave,” the woman said.
“Brave . . . why? It’s cool. And safe. Except for spiders and snakes. But I’m careful.”
Tāseti managed a chuckle. “You’re as slippery as a snake.”
Nimm laughed. “That’s what Huta used to say.” Then she lowered her head. “I guess he’ll never say it again.”
The woman placed her arm around the girl’s slim shoulders. “I’ve lost all my family, even my children,” she said to Nimm. “Do you think you and I could become friends?”
Nimm didn’t respond with words, but she leaned against the woman and closed her eyes.
“We all should rest,” Tāseti said. “When we reach Anna, there’ll be food and shelter aplenty. I’ll make sure the two of you get your very own tent.”
The woman smiled, then leaned her head against Nimm and fell asleep. Tāseti watched them both and found herself feeling grateful that the woman was with them.
“I don’t even know her name,” she thought.
As Tāseti grew drowsy, she pondered the fate of Anna. What would she find when she arrived there? Surely the monster could not pass through the Simōōn. Not even a great dragon could perform such a feat, even from the sky.
Tāseti allowed herself a brief nap.
ON THE SAME morning that Mala’s army arrived at Nissaya, and the white horsemen emerged from the northern gate of Jivita, Sister Tathagata came within sight of Anna. A short time before dawn, three Tugarian scouts confronted her about a league from where the outer border of the Simōōn should have begun, and she had killed and devoured all of them. Now she stood thirty-five cubits tall and weighed more than three hundred stones, larger and more powerful than the pair of three-headed giants that assailed Nissaya. Her physical strength rivaled that of a great dragon, but it paled in comparison to her demonic sorcery. More undines now raged within her flesh than existed in the entire Realm of the Undead. Her breath was black as ash and wrought blindness upon all it touched, including the Tugars, who were resistant to almost any other form of injury.
If the Simōōn had been in place, even Tathagata could not have passed
through it. But it now was nonexistent. Dvipa had called a halt to its renewal in anticipation of the arrival of Rati and the noble ones. The Asēkha had known nothing about the giant that approached the outer borders of the Tent City. Had he been aware, he might have rebuilt the Simōōn or ordered a retreat. Then again, maybe not. It wasn’t in the Tugars’ nature to flee.
The current version of Anna had been constructed within and around an oasis named Vimānal. During normal times, it was home to twenty-thousand pure-bred Tugars, about half of whom had attained the rank of warrior, and five thousand non-Tugars who freely worked as laborers. But now, most of the warriors were in Nissaya and Jivita, leaving the city uncharacteristically vulnerable.
Anna was called the Tent City for obvious reasons. It was composed almost entirely of tents, some small enough to sleep just a single warrior, others large enough to house fifty score for banquets and gatherings. Regardless of size, all the tents could be broken down by the nomadic Tugars and transported from oasis to oasis.
In her former state, Sister Tathagata had visited Anna several times. The ingenuity of the Tugars had amazed her. In addition to a variety of sizes, the tents came in several shapes: square, rectangular, conical, and pyramidal. Some were half shelters, open to the elements; others windowed wall tents with lightweight furniture. There even were tents that contained food and wine, ovens and forges, spinning wheels and looms. In terms of sheer size, it was no match for Avici; in opulence, it paled before Jivita; in grandeur, it was miniature compared to Nissaya. But in the minds of the Tugars and other inhabitants of the Tent City, simplicity was akin to freedom, and sleeping beneath the stars as joyful as breathing.
At the first light of dawn, the giant stood at the outer border of the oasis. Already, the Tugars were massing to greet her, including Dvipa, more than two score Vasi masters, and five hundred warriors. Fifteen thousand others—non-warriors and non-Tugars—also stood ready. Tathagata waved her arms defiantly and let out a screech. Unafraid of challenge, the Tugars shouted back.
FROM A LEAGUE away, Tāseti heard all of this and scrambled forward, finally abandoning Nimm and the woman to whatever be their fate.
Rage and desperation fueled her. Tāseti ran and ran.Soon after, she heard the screams that froze her heart.
4
THOUGH IT WOULD have been a lot of fun to watch the giant destroy Anna, Vedana had bigger fish to fry, as one of the horrid Vasi masters would have worded it. Preordained by Peta, Vedana had played the role of guide to its fullest, and now she intended to return to the ghost-child and Rathburt to make sure the two weren’t misbehaving. If her ultimate plan were to succeed, she needed the slump-shouldered Death-Knower to perform one final task.
The moth exited Tathagata’s ear and flew into the air, swerving just in time to avoid a metal bead one of the Tugar warriors had hurled into the sky. The bead had not been intended for her, of course. It’s as tall as a tree, she wanted to scream, and you still can’t hit it? I thought you Tugars were good.
Then she flew high into the air, soared westward, and vanished into a tiny black hole in the firmament.
Vedana spent a brief time in the Realm of the Undead. At first undines surrounded her, begging to be released into the Realm of Life so that they could achieve the same glory as their brothers and sisters that swarmed inside Tathagata. Their enthusiasm amused her, but she was in too much of a hurry to deal with their requests.
“Another time,” she told them.
“When? When? When? When? When? When? When? When?”
“Soon.”
“How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon? How soon?”
“When I say, and not before!” she shouted, causing the undines to scatter. Invictus was the most powerful of all, but Vedana still reigned supreme in her realm. And if she had her way, her grandson would be vanquished, and she would rule all places. After all, Peta had foreseen it.
Before she could leave the Realm of the Undead and return to Dhutanga to give Peta a good tongue-lashing, several hundred worm-like demons engulfed her, some of which were powerful enough to cause trouble, if not properly humored. Though she hated to take time out of her busy schedule, she decided this was necessary. If any of them became angry at her and reported her whereabouts to Invictus, it could be dangerous. She already was having enough problems with Uraga, the half boar-half man who had taken up with Mala’s army and was becoming too big for his breeches. The fifty-score demons that rode with Uraga also bore watching. None had the strength—even combined—to match her, but a lady couldn’t be too cautious in these modern times, when betrayal was just around the corner.
“What do you want?” she said to them, curious as to which of them would have the fortitude to speak first.
“Mother,” came a timid voice. Vedana recognized it as Jeguccha, one of her original daughters who had been born before the great dragons entered the world. “We have concerns.”
“Speak!”
“Your . . . behavior . . . is annoying Suriya (the Sun God). As of yet, he has left us alone. But what might he do if he turns his attention our way?”
“Am I to assume that you do not fear what I might do if you make me angry?”
In the deep darkness, she heard murmuring. It was absurdly easy for Vedana to sense their apprehension. Yet she was surprised when Jeguccha did not immediately back down.
“We fear you, Mother. And love you. That is not at issue. Rather, we are concerned about our survival. No one doubts your strength. But neither do we underestimate the might of your creation. Only the Sun God can free us from our dark prison. But only Invictus can destroy the gates of our prison—with us forever trapped inside.”
“What would you have me do?” Vedana said, sincerely curious of their intentions.
Another demon came forward. This one Vedana recognized as Uraga, his consciousness temporarily returned from the battlefield while his physically incarnated body stood motionless on the plains outside Nissaya.
“We would have you lay low,” he said, his relationship with Mala obviously emboldening him. “Stop your flitting about and causing so much trouble. Once the Chain Man wins these silly wars, he and Invictus will be in excellent moods. Perhaps then we can negotiate our freedom.”
“And if I do not stop my ‘flitting about’?”
Silence.
Broken, finally, by Vedana herself.
“I will consider your words, children. In the meantime, consider mine. Indeed, Suriya has the power to destroy the gates of our realm. But I too have power. I created all of you. And I can destroy you. Do not doubt it.”
“Please, Mother, do not be offended . . .”
“Silence!” Vedana said. “You have made me angry enough, as is—and you, Uraga, most of all.”
Outside the walls of Nissaya, as the army of Mala was just then arriving, the half boar-half man collapsed. Few paid heed to his demise, though one of the three-headed giants saw his crumpled form and made a quick meal of the incarnated remains before his twin had time to notice. For some reason, they were less filling than the giant had expected.
5
AT NOON OF the same day that Mala’s army arrived at Nissaya, Bhayatupa lay on the rooftop of Uccheda, eyes rarely blinking, face expressionless. Like most large reptiles, dragons were proficient at staying still and doing nothing, and it worked to Bhayatupa’s advantage that this extreme state of immobility created the impression of stupidity. Besides, as long as he didn’t move, the chain that looped around his neck stayed relatively cool.
Though his body was motionless, his boulder-sized mind was anything but. Bhayatupa spent every available moment reminiscing about the countless occurrences of his ancient lifetime—his spectacular birth on the peak of a Mahaggatan mountain; his long reign as the greatest of all dragons; his current, humiliating predicament. It was ironic that Invictus appeared to believe that Bhayatupa’s memories had been erased, when in fact no living creature could recall so much of its past so viv
idly. As the dragon pored over every minute detail, searching for anything that might give him an edge over the sorcerer, he alternately was filled with joy and sorrow, comfort and anguish.
When he remembered Carūūldassana, his pain was especially intense. After Sankhaya had murdered their son Mūlaka, Bhayatupa’s rage had known no bounds. Finally it had driven the beautiful female into hiding out of fear for her own existence. It wasn’t until now, as prisoner of Invictus, that Bhayatupa recognized the folly of his ways. He had loved his son as much as himself, but he had loved his mate more than either. If this revelation had occurred thirty millennia ago, he might still have known joy. When he looked at it that way, he wondered if eternal life was worth the pursuit.
“Bhayatupa amarattam tanhiiyati (Bhayatupa craves eternal existence),” he remembered saying to the Death-Knower the first time he had seen him near the southern bridge of Avici.
And the wizard’s softly whispered response, heard only by the dragon, had been: “Adhigatam idam sakkoti eva nissaya passannacittam. (Only through purity of spirit can this be achieved.)”
Those words had disturbed Bhayatupa then, and he remained disturbed now. Somehow they held the most crucial of clues, but he could not comprehend what it might be.
When Invictus let out a shout, Bhayatupa was caught unawares, and it took every fiber of his will not to flinch.
Then the sorcerer laughed. “You’re worse off than Mala,” he said contemptuously. “At least he has some personality.”
Rage swelled in Bhayatupa’s heart, but he did not blink.
“Still,” the sorcerer continued, “you may yet prove useful. At least you can carry me around faster than a dracool, and Sampatis are too unpredictable.”
Just then, a female dracool came up beside Invictus and stood next to him, eyeing Bhayatupa warily.