by Melvin, Jim
When Tāseti appeared out of nowhere, Dvipa had never felt so relieved in his life. The second in command was his superior, in all ways. Now the Tugars were in better hands than before.
WHEN SHE FINALLY saw the monster she had been tracking for more than a week, Tāseti was appalled. The fiend that had once been Sister Tathagata was four times as tall as a cave troll and many times its girth, yet it moved with extraordinary speed and grace. Ordinary humans could not have evaded it. Only Tugars were capable—barely.
Even from a distance, traces of the horrific smoke exuded by the fiend repulsed her, hurting her eyes and blurring her vision. Regardless, she raced forward without any plan, other than to do her best, though she feared more than ever that her best would not be good enough.
Dvipa was the first to acknowledge her presence. He raced toward her, his eyes red and swollen. “Tāseti, beyond hope you have come. Tell us what to do. The fiend cannot be injured.”
“What happened to the Simōōn?” Tāseti shouted. “And where are the rest of the Tugars?”
“An army of fiends marched into the desert from Senasana,” Dvipa said. “We were forced to lower the Simōōn in order to quickly send our own army against it. Afterward, I learned from Appam that you and Rati were approaching with the noble ones, so I left the whirlwind down. I knew nothing of this giant . . .” Then Dvipa sighed. “If only our king were here.”
“But he is not,” Tāseti said. “So the lesser must lead. Order all who remain to corral the fiend into the center of Anna. We will set the city aflame.”
“But the giant is impervious to fire.”
“The tents and trees will burn far hotter than brands,” Tāseti said.
Just then, she heard a terrible scream. A Vasi master had come too near and had been blinded. In an attempt to flee, his feet had become entangled in the guy ropes of a tent, slowing him down just enough for the fiend to kneel and grab him. A score of Tugars hacked at the monster’s thick wrist with their uttaras, but she blew a gust of the noxious smoke upon them, forcing them to scatter.
Now she was standing again, holding the master in one hand like a normal-sized woman would hold a wiggly iguana. Even as a swarm of Tugars hacked at the fiend’s ankles, she raised the master to her mouth and bit off his legs above the knees, boots and all. Amazingly, he continued to fight, pounding his fists against the fiend’s thick fingers. It didn’t matter. She shoved the rest of him into her mouth and swallowed. Then she howled in a voice that made Tāseti’s blood run cold. But she could not allow panic to affect her leadership.
“Order the masters to spread a ring of sulfur in a large circle around the densest area of tents and trees,” she said to Dvipa. “If we can get Tathagata inside it, we’ll roast her!”
“Tathagata?” As Dvipa looked up at the fiend, his face crumbled. “For the sake of Anna . . . no.”
WHEN TĀSETI HAD seen the smoke, she’d screamed and run ahead, leaving Nimm and the woman named Ura to fend for themselves. Though Nimm had cried for Tāseti to wait, the Asēkha did not heed her.
“What do we do now?” the girl said, her voice quivering.
“We have no choice but to follow,” the woman said. “We don’t have enough water to turn back. Our only hope is to seek protection among the Tugars.”
“But the monster is there!”
“And so are the Tugars. I would rather die at their side than alone in the desert.”
Nimm started to cry again, but she fought it back. Ura was right. It was time to be brave. She would kill the monster herself, if it meant saving Tāseti.
“She needs our help!” Nimm said.
Ura managed to chuckle. “There’s an old desert saying: ‘One foot in front of the other.’ Follow me, child. And hope for the best.”
THE NEW PREY was wise to the dangers of her breath, which was little more than essence exuded from the Realm of the Undead, where blindness was a natural part of existence. If they chose to scatter and flee, she doubted she could catch many of them, but they seemed determined to confront her. One came too near, apparently growing overconfident in its ability to stay out of range, and she spun and vomited black smoke at its face. The prey became entangled in one of the tents, and she pounced on it. Others attacked, but several more exhalations scattered them. Then she stood and bit off her victim’s squirmy little legs with her ultra-sharp teeth.
Though the taste was exquisite, she considered putting the prey back down and seeing if it would transform. Then she decided she had wounded it too severely for it to be an effective fighter, so she jammed the rest of its body into her cavernous mouth and swallowed.
Instantly, a new surge of strength coursed through her sinews, causing her to howl with pleasure. For a few moments, she didn’t even notice the others hacking and stabbing at her feet, ankles, and calves. Eventually it hurt enough to cause her to want them to stop, so she exhaled more smoke. They scattered again.
With her newfound puissance, she kicked at the tents with her gnarled feet, tearing them out of the ground, stakes and all, and sending them flapping through the air like wounded bats. Some of the larger tents, which were staked in dozens of places, resisted more than the others, but eventually all of them were torn asunder. Most of the prey had moved to her right and were screaming at her, waving their arms, and casting the annoying beads with their slings.
She lunged at them, growling, and they ran, only to regroup a pace or two—by her measure—farther away. Then they screamed and waved their arms again. The fiend found this new behavior highly annoying. She tore a bethoum from the ground, roots and all, and heaved it at them. At least one was injured, and she charged forward and grabbed him before the others could rescue him. This one, however, was not one of the new prey, and it provided relatively little sustenance.
This made her even angrier, and she began to fling trees, tent posts, and furniture in all directions. Most of the prey avoided the barrage, though a few were injured enough to slow them down, and she ate each one. But it seemed as if the only ones she could catch were the weak kind. The new prey were too clever.
Now it was well past noon, and the heat of the desert was massively intense. She found herself in the densest part of the city, surrounded by bethoums, date palms, and much-larger tents, some of which were almost as tall as she. She tore at them too, ripping them to shreds like a dog obsessed with a rag, using her teeth as well as her hands. When the fire began to blaze, Tathagata was too frenzied to even notice. By the time she did, she was trapped.
THOUGH SHE NEVER doubted their courage, Tāseti’s people impressed her—and not just the warriors and Vasi masters. Even the five thousand who were not pureblooded Tugars fought just as hard as the others, though they were at far greater risk. The fiend continued to make kills, but only two more Tugars were taken among the victims, and none of those warriors. Tathagata seemed as intent on destroying Anna as she was on feeding, and of those she managed to kill, none were left in any condition to convert. Still, the desert warriors watched carefully. If any of their kind were wounded and appeared to transform, they would dispatch them without mercy. An army of Tugar fiends would be deadlier than any other. It could not be permitted to exist.
While some distracted the fiend, the rest of the Tugars and ordinary citizens of Anna enacted Tāseti’s plan. Barrels of sulfur, which normally were used to superheat the fires that smelted their exquisite blades, were emptied in a circle around the densest area of tents and trees. Creosote bushes and other brush were added to the pile, but a large opening was left to allow the fiend to enter. When Tathagata entered the circle, all inside evacuated, and the opening was closed.
Tāseti struck the first flint. A ring of fire burst one hundred cubits into the sky, trapping the monster in its sweltering grip. The tents and trees within the circle also blew into flame. The heat became so intense, Tāseti and the others were forced to back away and watch from a distance.
Almost as quickly as it raged, the inferno subsided, its fuel consume
d with stunning rapidity. Many of the tents beyond the circle also were engulfed, but the Tugars made little effort to extinguish them. Smoke was everywhere, obscuring their vision. Surely no monster could have survived such a blaze. Even a great dragon would have been hard-pressed had it not been able to escape to the sky.
When Tathagata emerged from the inferno, she shattered Tāseti’s hopes. The fiend’s flesh was charred black, and what had remained of her hair was incinerated, but her fiery eyes were wildly alive, and her enormous body still moved with fluidity. The fire had failed.
“We must flee!” she heard Dvipa say, and then a gush of smoke, frighteningly black, overwhelmed him, and he fell. Tāseti ran toward her fellow Asēkha, shouting, “No . . . NO!” But the fiend got to him first, lifted him, shook him viciously, and bit off his left arm. Then Tathagata smiled and cast him into a burning tangle of tents. Dvipa lay still.
Tāseti scrambled though the flames and knelt beside Dvipa, pressing her fingers against his neck. To her dismay, she discovered that his broken body contained no life, but soon after his eyes sprang open, and he attempted to stand. Tāseti did not hesitate, taking off his head with five ferocious strokes. In the time it took to perform this mercy, Tathagata loomed above her. Tāseti reacted too late.
She was lifted high into the air, her arms—and uttara—pinned helplessly at her sides.
WHEN NIMM AND Ura reached the outskirts of Anna, the destruction staggered them. Fires blazed everywhere, including an enormous one in the heart of the Tent City that burned so hot they could feel it on their faces a mile away. A swath of ruin led toward the conflagration. Nimm ran through it, with Ura stumbling behind, shouting for her to stop. But the woman was exhausted, and the nimble girl a step too fast.
The tower of flames in the interior of Anna suddenly collapsed upon itself. Ordinary smoke spewed forth, spreading in rolling waves. Nimm was momentarily blinded, but still she ran, as if awake in a nightmare of darkness. Ura’s voice grew progressively dimmer.
When Nimm finally could see again, the monster that had attacked her family stood only a stone’s throw away. But now it was as huge as a sand dune, and it held the warrior who had saved the girl’s life in one of its massive hands. Tāseti’s head lolled as the fiend flung her about.
Nimm could not bear the thought of another loss. She had grown to trust Ura, but Tāseti was her favorite. What would be the use of living, if the Asēkha was no longer?
As other Tugars raced frantically around the monster’s legs, slashing and stabbing in a desperate attempt to free their leader, the little girl stumbled forward, choking on the smoke. Ura screamed from a distance, but she was too far back. No one else tried to stop Nimm, or even seemed to notice her presence.
Except for Tathagata. The fiend, almost twenty times her height, looked down upon the child—and paused. Then grimaced, pressing her free hand against her temple.
FROM DEEP WITHIN the cacophony, the tiny portion of Sister Tathagata’s awareness that remained sane recognized the presence of the child. The High Nun had halted her resistance to the undines, but not because she was too weak. Rather, she had lost her desire to fight. In an astounding irony, the horrid destruction of her flesh had helped her to accomplish what three thousand years of placid meditation had not. Tathagata had achieved Arahantship (high enlightenment). Never again would she be reborn.
But the child, wandering toward the monster through a maelstrom of despair, engaged Tathagata’s compassion. Enlightenment did not forbid all forms of action, only those that were unworthy.
The Perfect One pressed forward one final time—and forced the fiend to speak. “Tāseti, can you hear me?”
The Asēkha gasped. “Sister?”
A smile spread across the monster’s broad face, exposing fangs that no longer seemed menacing. “I can maintain control for a very short time. There is only one way I know to slay this body, which in turn will destroy the undines. But it will cause your death, as well. Are you willing?”
Without hesitation, Tāseti said, “Yes.”
“Very well.” Then Tathagata whispered something that only the Asēkha could hear—and proceeded to place the warrior inside her mouth.
THE MOUTH REEKED of gore and poison. Tāseti knelt on the foul tongue and raised the point of her uttara above her head, locking her elbows against her breasts. She had desired battle more than anything, had spent almost her entire lifetime striving to become the best of the best. When Kusala had ordered her to undertake this mission, she had been furious, believing that all her efforts had been in vain. Instead, she had been cast into an adventure far more gratifying than she could have imagined. She would play no role in the outcomes at Nissaya or Jivita, but in Anna she forever would be remembered as a hero.
Tāseti smiled. If her next lifetime were half this exciting, it would be well worth living.
When Tathagata again retreated to the far corners of the fiend’s ruined mind, the monster regained control of her body and felt the prey inside her mouth, closing upon the Asēkha with jaws as powerful as a great dragon’s. The point of the uttara drove up through the roof of the mouth, punctured the nasal passages, and entered the brain. Even as Tāseti was being crushed, she spun the blade. It was not decapitation, but it was enough.
Tathagata collapsed face-first onto the smoking wreckage of the Tent City. The fiend spit up blood, quivered, and lay still. Tāseti spilled from the open mouth, her body broken in a hundred places.
For a few surprising moments, Tāseti continued to live. The Tugars surrounded her, and a warrior lifted her gently and carried her away from the fiend’s hideous face, which already was beginning to putrefy as the undines, perishing by the millions, released their undead grip on the once-living flesh.
Then Nimm knelt by Tāseti, followed by Ura. From the expressions on their faces, Tāseti realized that her crumpled body must not be a pretty sight. She tried to smile, coughed up blood, and then did smile.
“Do not . . . weep,” Tāseti said to Nimm. “You saved us all . . .” Then she looked at the nearest Tugar. “Sister Tathagata achieved enlightenment before she fell . . . tell the noble ones.” More coughing followed.
“Don’t die,” Nimm said. “Please . . . don’t die. I won’t be able to stand it.”
“I will die . . . and be reborn. Do not weep for me . . . my brave little friend.”
Nimm tried her best to honor Tāseti’s last request, but in the end she could not hold back her tears.
Ura and the Tugars wept alongside her.
Hidden Monsters
1
AT THE APPROACH of midnight, the crescent moon sank beneath the western horizon, leaving the stars in charge of the night. The sky was cloudless, but minus the moon’s presence, a grave darkness gripped the Green Plains. To Laylah it felt like weakness.
The humming dominated all sound. Even the lush turf at their feet seemed to quiver. The lead destriers grew restless, their riders struggling to hold them in position. Laylah felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air, which remained disturbingly warm and humid.
Though she had faced many dangers in her life, she had never before been in a full-scale battle. One hundred thousand druids were about to march down their throats. She realized she was terrified.
Laylah turned to her beloved for support. He had fought in many wars. Could he rebuild her confidence? But when she turned to him, he appeared almost hypnotized, gazing silently at the northern sky.
Suddenly he sat upright on Bhojja’s back and shouted in a booming voice, “Horror approaches! The dragon comes. Hold your positions. Hold!”
Seconds later, Bhayatupa swept out of the sky, trailing crimson fire like a comet. A rush of super-heated air blew down upon them, knocking riders off their mounts and panicking the destriers. The war horses had been bred and trained for battle, but it was one thing to stare down a druid and another to stand true against a great dragon twenty times as long and thirty times as heavy.
Without warnin
g, Bhayatupa came to a near halt in midair, reared back, and emitted a sound that evoked not terror, but pity. A multicolored chain was wrapped around his neck from head to shoulder, and from five hundred cubits away, Laylah could feel the heat it emitted. The dragon’s agony must have been incomprehensible. Of all living beings, only Invictus was capable of such cruelty.
At that moment, she saw her brother sitting on Bhayatupa’s neck, his body a small yellow blob that seared her eyes. Even as the dragon flew away and disappeared, Laylah cried out. Izumo sensed her distress and attempted to rise up on his hind legs in a panic, but his heavy barding was too inflexible, causing the stallion to bolt forward instead. Laylah was thrown, and she landed heavily on her back, the weight of her armor carrying her down like a stone. She heard Torg shout her name, but before he could reach her, another horse trampled her, pounding one of its hooves onto the plate just below her breasts. Though the Jivitan white iron barely crinkled, Laylah felt like a child who had fallen off a swing and had the wind knocked out of her. For a moment, she was dazed and couldn’t seem to breathe.
Then Torg was kneeling beside her and sitting her up, his eyes wide with concern. She nudged him away and managed to stand on her own, saying, “I’m fine . . . don’t worry.” When she regained her bearings, she discovered that she was fine.
By then, Navarese and Queen Rajinii were shouting commands in an attempt to instill order. A Tugar warrior rode toward her, gripping Izumo’s reins. The stallion came to her almost apologetically, head lowered as if his cowardice embarrassed him. Laylah stroked his muzzle and—with Torg’s assistance—remounted. The wizard handed her Obhasa, which had fallen on the grass beside her.