Forest of Demons

by Debbie Cassidy

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how or why, but I think you’re singing is what brought them here.”

  She stared at him in horror. “You’re saying I did this?”

  “I don’t know! I could be wrong. We’ll know soon enough once we step out those doors.”

  “Sing? I sing and they what? Stop attacking, is that it?” He was crazy. The whole thing was insane!

  Ravi shrugged. “Or we stay here and wait till dawn.”

  While Ma and Papa could possibly be ripped to shreds, the rakshasas battering down their flimsy door to get to their flesh. Ravi’s idea was insane, but it was all they had. She had to believe it would work.

  “We go.”

  She stood behind Ravi, a length of metal clutched in her right hand, just in case, as Ravi had put it. He brandished his shaping hammer, one hand on the door handle.

  “What should I sing?” Her voice trembled.

  “I don’t think it matters.”

  Priya nodded. He opened the door and they stepped out.

  The noise that had been muted by the thick smithy walls hit them in a sickening wave.

  Three sleek shadows lifted their heads from their meal, swivelling to pin them with their glistening pale blue eyes. They surged toward them.

  “Sing!”

  Priya began to sing.

  The notes hit the air and the rakshasas paused.

  Ravi clasped her hand. “Whatever you do, don’t stop singing.”

  They began to walk through the market.

  One by one, the rakshasas raised their heads from their meals. One by one, they paused in their attack.

  Shutting out the bloody horror of the carnage before her, Priya concentrated on the song, the melody.

  They walked, and the rakshasas followed as if entranced.

  Priya’s legs trembled, and her heart pounded so loud she struggled to hear her own voice. But Ravi’s reassuring grip on her hand kept her from stumbling.

  They moved passed the lanterns still burning in the village square and the rakshasha followed. Through the narrow village streets where the moon was the only illumination, down the dirt tracks that led to the edge of the village, they walked at a sedate pace, always aware of the danger that tread in their footsteps.

  They finally reached her home, and it was only then that their predicament struck her. She had unwittingly lured every rakshasa to her own doorstep.

  Her eyes relayed panic at her revelation, Ravi’s jaw flexed in indecision. The hut door opened and Papa raised his lantern, smiling when he saw Priya and Ravi, then gasping in shock when he saw what they had brought with them. Ravi leaned in speaking urgently to Papa while Priya focused on her song. Her throat ached, and she was afraid she would lose her voice at any moment. It was the longest she’d ever sung.

  Ravi looked up at the moonlit sky. Dawn was hours away.

  Tears pricked at her eyes as she battled to keep the terror trapped in her chest.

  Papa stepped out of the hut and gently extricated the bar from her hand. Ravi’s fingers slipped through hers, and Papa took her other hand. Together they channelled their strength into her.

  Flanked by the two men she sang until the sun’s rays tinged the sky with pinks and reds. She sang while the rakshasas turned and began to retreat. She sang until Ravi cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers whispering to her to stop, that she could stop now, that it was over, and then the notes turned to sobs and she allowed him to hold her while the terror finally overwhelmed her.

  CHAPTER 9

  “No one saw, no one knows.” Ma wrung her hands. “It’ll be all right.”

  “We should leave today, now!” Papa argued.

  “What? And give them reason to suspect?”

  “Why should they suspect anything? No one saw her leading them. Ravi assured me,” Papa said.

  “And what if someone realizes it was her voice that brought them here?”

  “It’s too much of a stretch; they won’t.”

  “Ravi did.”

  Papa was silent.

  Priya pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders. They were acting as if she weren’t even in the room. From Papa’s chair by the stove, she watched them both pace in a strange, almost synchronized dance.

  “You’re right, we can’t just leave.” Papa sighed. “There are too many dead to bury.”

  “A few families are already packing to leave. They’re afraid that the rakshasas will attack again; no one will blink an eye if we leave too.” Ma had certainly changed her tune.

  “The capital is expensive, but we could stay for a week or two, then return,” Papa said.

  “I’ll pack.” Ma headed into their bedroom.

  Priya stared at the floor. This was her fault. All those dead people, they were her fault. She would never forgive herself. If only she’d turned the munsiff down, if only she hadn’t let pride sway her decision.

  She couldn’t walk across all the innocent dead to realize her capital dream. She had to stay, now more than ever. She had to put things right.

  “We’re not leaving,” she said.

  “Priya?” Papa took the seat opposite her.

  “We can’t leave now. I have to stay. They might come back, and if they do I have to be here to lead them away.”

  She waited for the objections, but heard only silence. She looked up, surprised by his easy acceptance.

  “I always knew there was something special about you, beti, but the villagers, they won’t understand. You may save them, but they won’t thank you. They’ll persecute you and call you a witch. They’ll shun you.”

  “I know. But if I don’t stay, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

  Papa dropped his chin. “Let us make a deal. We’ll wait until after the frost. Once the winter has passed, we’ll leave no matter what.”

  “What’s this?” Ma asked entering the room with an armful of clothing.

  Papa looked up at her. “We’re staying, Kunti, for now.”

  Defiance sparked in Ma’s eyes but died in the face of whatever she saw in Papa’s. “I’ll make some chai.”

  In the wake of the tragedy, the village seemed to have shrunk into itself. The loss of loved ones hung heavy in the air. Some homes nearest the market square had to be rebuilt, and guards had been posted around the forest trail during the day. The panchayat had met and agreed on a curfew. It cut market hours short but ensured that everyone was safely tucked up in their homes before the sun went down. No one would dare go against the village councils ruling.

  Two weeks after the event, no sign of further attack had reassured some of the villagers, but for the families of the dead, there was no comfort.

  Papa was no longer permitted into the forest. The villagers were afraid that any interaction with the forest would lure the rakshasas back into the village. The merchant carts were forced to take a longer route to the capital, adding days to their journey and the risk that they might not make it back before the frost.

  Priya managed the stall, kept her head down, and waited for the winter. She caught sight of Ravi from time to time, the soot back on his face where it belonged, and recalled the sensation of his calloused hand in hers.

  She yearned, but was unsure what it was she yearned for, and wished for numbness to take its place.

  It was late and the doors had been bolted. The stove had been stoked until the flame was high, and the room was unbearably warm.

  “It will come with the dawn,” Papa said. “The house must remain warm or we’ll suffer damp.”

  Priya didn’t question his conviction. Papa was always right when it came to these things. The frost was a sly thing and would descend on them suddenly and completely, in the wake of the hottest day of the year.

  Ma sat in her shift with just a thin shawl to preserve her modesty. “Well, I look forward to dawn.” She fanned herself.

  Priya watched the moon from her window seat.

  There was a knock at the door.

&nbs
p; Papa sat up straight, exchanging shocked glances with Priya and Ma. Who would have been so stupid as to break curfew?

  Priya made to get up, but Papa beat her to it, moving cautiously toward the door.

  “Goodness Hariji, be quick about it, I hardly think a rakshasa would be so polite as to knock,” Ma said.

  Priya’s lips twitched.

  Papa reached the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Ravi.”

  Priya leaned forward in anticipation as Papa opened the door.

  Ravi glanced behind him before entering quickly. A large sack covered in soot was slung over his shoulder.

  Papa stared at him enquiringly.

  “Fuel, for the fire. Where can I put it?”

  Papa indicated the stove and Ravi carefully lowered the sack to the ground.

  “Thank you.” Papa said.

  Ravi inclined his head and then turned and strode back out the door.

  Priya watched him leave. He hadn’t even looked at her. Something dark and ugly rose in her chest. She was on her feet and out the door in an instant, her mother’s warning cry muffled by the slamming of the door.

  “Ravi, wait!”

  He stopped, and she ran to catch up with him, but once she was there she didn’t know what to say. He looked down on her patiently, and she exhaled in frustration.

  “What do you want, Priya?”

  She shook her head, her eyes stinging.

  He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to the moonlight. The hot tears escaped and slipped down the sides of her face.

  “Oh, Priya.” His voice cracked with emotion. He closed his eyes, inhaling. When he opened them again, his expression was closed. “Go home. Be safe.” He released her, stepping back to put distance between them. “Go now.”

  There were too many words, too many feelings twisted and tangled inside her. There was no time. She turned and ran back down the street to her home. At the door she paused to look over her shoulder.

  He stood silhouetted in silver, head bowed.

  Throat uncomfortably tight she slipped through the door.

  As Priya made her way toward her room, Papa tripped her with his words.

  “I was wrong about that boy.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Priya stomped the snow off her boots before entering the cozy warmth of the hut. Closing the door firmly behind her, she retrieved the thick, stuffed snake Ma had made and shoved it against the bottom of the door to keep out the draft.

  “How was market?” Papa asked from his perch by the stove. His leg was propped on a small footstool; swollen and discoloured, it looked painful.

  Priya removed her winter coat and unwound her thick scarf. “Not good. I think we should reduce stock. Maybe only sell eggs and milk and whatever clay creations we have. We have enough grain to last the winter. I can take on more mending work, and maybe washing. No one wants to go to the river to wash clothes in these temperatures.”

  “Or maybe we should forget the market altogether. Many stall owners close business for the winter,” Ma said.

  Papa nodded. “Yes, we have enough to see us through.”

  Priya tried to hide her disappointment with a smile. Her fingers and toes ached with cold and stung terribly now that they were thawing, but the market was the only place she could go to catch a glimpse of Ravi.

  “Come sit. I have made some delicious dhal, it will warm you.” Ma ushered her toward her window seat before bringing her a bowl of the lentil soup.

  Priya sipped from the bowl, sighing with pleasure as the fragrant liquid slipped down her throat, leaving a trail of delicious heat in its wake.

  The ache in her stomach dissipated as she filled it with food. As soon as she was finished she donned her coat once more and slipped on her boots, still damp from the morning.

  “Be quick, beti, the temperature will drop sharply soon,” Ma warned.

  Papa frowned at his leg in annoyance. His face was tight with pain. Priya felt a pang of anger. The Vithyan had been extremely unhelpful when she had approached him for a pain sachet. Unable to retaliate against the panchayat for banning forest interaction, he chose instead to vent his frustration on Papa, because now he would have to procure his herbs and roots from the neighboring village at a much higher cost.

  She knew he had the pain remedy, could tell by the shift of his eyes, yet he claimed he had none.

  Priya held on to her irritation, using its heat to sustain her while she checked on the cows and hens. Locked up tight in their specially constructed barn and coup, with enough hay to keep them warm, they would survive the winter. She scattered some chicken feed and filled the cow’s troughs, then after bolting the doors of the coup and the barn, she turned to make her way back inside.

  “Help me, please.”

  Priya spun around, surprised by the appearance of two strangers. Priya’s hut was at the southern edge of the village with nothing but open land and woods beyond the borders. Where could they have come from?

  She took a step back, assessing their appearance.

  One man was young, maybe a few years older than her, and the other was older—younger than Papa but not by much. They both had light skin, caramel eyes, and brown hair. The younger man was supporting the older one. She noted their threadbare clothes were hardly fit for the frost.

  “Please. Can you give us sanctuary?”

  “Who are you?” Priya asked.

  The younger man licked his cracked lips. “I’m Mittel, and this is my uncle, Vinay. We come from across the mountain, from Machli.”

  “The ocean town? That’s impossible.”

  “Anything is possible with the devil on your tail. Please, you have to help us. My uncle needs medical attention, and I must speak to your village council immediately.”

  Vinay’s eyes rolled back in his head. He sagged, almost taking Mittel with him. Priya rushed forward to help, slipping her arm around the older man. Together they managed to get him to the hut door.

  “What is this? Who are these people? Oh, my God!” Ma rushed forward to help. Together they managed to get Vinay into Priya’s room and onto her bed. His body was hot with fever, and he was babbling.

  Papa hobbled over, leaning against the wall for balance.

  Ma wrung her hands in agitation. “Priya, who are these people? What’s wrong with him? Does he have a sickness? Please tell me you didn’t bring sickness into our home?”

  Priya turned to Mittel. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Mittel swallowed and reached down to gingerly peel back Vinay’s coat.

  Priya covered her mouth in horror. The tunic underneath was torn, exposing a six-inch-long, festering wound. The color of the skin and the puffiness told her that infection was present but that it was not what had caused the wound.

  “Who did this?”

  Mittel shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “I’m not sure. They came from the sea on the backs of huge beasts. They took our shores, cutting a swath of slaughter through the town. They slaughtered the men; they slaughtered the children. They slaughtered the women too, but they raped them first. The elderly were burned. I managed to get most of my family out, but the mountain . . . it is a force to be reckoned with, only the two of us survived.”

  “You must alert the council!” Papa said.

  “We need the Vithyan,” Ma added.

  Priya nodded, moving quickly toward the door.

  “Wait, I’ll come with you,” Mittel said.

  “No. Stay here, you’ll only slow me down.” Priya didn’t wait for his response, but ducked her head and stepped into the dangerous chill of the red sun.

  She ran as fast as she could, her boots cracking through the fresh layer of ice that had formed over the snow. She stumbled more than once but managed to right herself and continue.

  By the time she reached the market her movements were uncoordinated, she couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. The vythian’s home was just a few more minutes away. She had to keep moving.

&nb
sp; She fell to her knees.

  Ice water seeped into the fabric at her kneecaps, up her thighs and down her legs.

  Red sun was bad. People stayed indoors during red sun. Her clothes weren’t equipped to keep out the chill.

  She had to get up.

  “Priya!”

  Ravi?

  “Priya, what are you doing?” He cursed colorfully.

  She felt his hands under her armpits. She was on her feet for a brief moment before he swung her into his arms.

  She curled into him, greedy for the heat he was throwing, but it was nothing compared to the bone-melting warmth of the smithy.

  He placed her by the forge and pulled off her boots, then began to briskly rub her feet. She stared at the top of his head while he worked. It felt nice—comfortable, like home.

  “What are you doing out at this time?” Ravi asked, taking her hand and rubbing it between his.

  Priya frowned, her thoughts sluggish. She had to do something important, something . . . oh, God’s! She pulled her hands from his. “I have to go! I have to get the vythian and alert the council!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Two men, one injured. They came from the ocean town. They say that something’s coming, something bad from the ocean.”

  “But what were you thinking, setting out during red sun?”

  “I-I wasn’t . . . thinking.”

  Ravi stood. “You stay here. I’ll go.”

  “No! You said yourself, it’s deadly out there.”

  “I’ll be fine. My body runs warmer than most, and I have better winter clothes than you.”

  Priya nodded. “Thank you.”

  Ravi retreated into the room at the back of the smithy. He returned, clad in his winter clothes. He looked like a huge bear, and Priya stifled a giggle.

  He wagged his glove-clad finger in her direction before stomping out of the smithy.

  There was nothing to do but wait and hope that the vythian and the council took Ravi’s message seriously.

  CHAPTER 11

  The village hall was packed full of villagers eager to have their say on the strangers’ shocking message. Children old enough to entertain themselves had been left outside to play in the snow, oblivious to the looming threat. Red sun was a couple hours away, which gave them plenty of time to discuss action.