Tower of silence, p.14
Tower of Silence, page 14
The Guru did, and it was obviously part reading, and part telling a familiar story. “It says while we are the children of the gods, the demons were the foul offspring of something else, a dark force that lived among the stars, jealous of our gods’ accomplishments.”
That part Ashok found plausible, because it sounded like what Thera described having faced in the graveyard of demons, and she was one of the few people in the world whose word he trusted.
“The gods had created black steel as the ultimate manifestation of their powers, a substance able to alter the world according to their whims. It was created in a forge that required heat great as the sun.” Dondrub traced his fingers over the symbols reverently. “The evil tried to copy this miracle and gave life to demons instead. The demons hated the gods, for the gods rejected them. The demons made war on the gods, and all of mankind watched as the two sides filled the heavens above us with fire and thunder for many days. It was war the likes of which had never been seen before or since. Except as this war in the heavens raged, the gods could not protect their children below…”
“The rain of demons,” Ashok said.
“Yes. Wherever the demons fell, they laid to waste. Our land of prosperity was torn asunder. Knowledge was lost. Rivers ran red with blood as our old world was destroyed. One by one the other castles were torn from the sky, including the forge of the gods, until only Upagraha remained. Many gods perished, yet ultimately the last of them prevailed. Once the evil was defeated, only then could they turn their eyes back to their creation and were horrified to find that our people were being massacred by the demons.”
This part Keta had talked about many times. “So the gods sent one warrior riding down from the sky in a vessel made of black steel, to give that magic to the survivors, so we could drive the demons into the sea.”
“It delights me that some small measure of truth has not been ruined by your blighted Law! Except you are only part right. Ramrowan was not ordered here. He begged the injured gods to let him go to us. For Ramrowan was more than just a mortal warrior. He had been bred to be a soldier of the gods. Improved in every way, with the very blood of the gods running through his veins.” Dondrub’s hand paused at one of the carvings. He tapped it twice. “He was a fusion of flesh and black steel magic, the first Protector.”
Ashok scowled, because that symbol was familiar. It was one of the repetitive designs, usually inlaid in silver, traditionally marked upon Protector armor. “I know that one.”
“I thought you might. Except in those days your kind were created to be Protectors of humanity, not Protectors of Law. That perversion came later. Using a special device that had been given to him by the gods, Ramrowan was able to make more Protectors like unto him, but they were pale imitations, as magic alone could not make them equal to his blood.”
That device had to be the Heart of the Mountain. “What do you know of this process?”
“Very little.”
“You should keep it that way.”
Dondrub didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he continued his tale. “These Protectors were mighty, but they were mere shadows of Ramrowan’s power, for how can any man, even one augmented by black steel, approach the power of someone who is part god? It is said he could call down fire and lightning from the sky. Nothing could kill him, neither blade nor bullet, burning heat or icy cold. Yet even he needed help to defeat the demons, so from his ship Ramrowan created the weapons that would come to be known as ancestor blades and gave one to each surviving tribe in Lok. Once they were united together, they pushed the demons into the sea.”
“The ocean is hell. Let the demons have it. Man will retain the land. Trespassers will be dealt with. Thus it has been. Thus it ever shall be.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dondrub asked. “I should not be surprised. You believe whatever your Law tells you, only your Law is deluded and has forgotten the old ways.”
“You are fortunate I no longer take personal offense for slights against the Law, old man.”
“The Law lies. There is no truce between man and demonkind. They will return. Not one or two at a time as they have in recent centuries, but an army of demons, to finish what they started.”
“I’ve fought more demons than anyone.” It wasn’t bragging, rather a statement of fact. “I do not doubt their capacity for hate. Five at once might as well be an army, but there is no sign of an invasion.”
“Do you have eyes that can see beneath the sea, Ashok Vadal? The gods know all that is and what may be. Mighty Ramrowan’s final words declared that the demons would return in time, and we must be ready to stop them, or all would perish.”
“When?”
“Only the gods know. Which is why we must remain vigilant. More importantly, Ramrowan warned that only someone with his sainted blood would be able to unlock the full might of the gods to repel the invaders when the time came. Without this chosen bloodline, we would be doomed. This was so vital that the sons of Ramrowan made sure that their bloodline could never be eradicated.”
Keta had preached about this next part many times, so Ashok was curious to hear the old man’s version. “What became of these sons?”
“They ruled as kings. They took many wives, to perpetuate their line, as did the generations after them, until their family was so great in number their bloodline could never die out.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Will you not speak of how these kings ruled as tyrants over the castes they had created to serve them, taking whatever they wanted—women, treasure, and land? Until the people they were supposed to save grew to hate them more than the demons they had started to forget. The castes decided this legend was a lie, an excuse for their kings to do evil, and rose up to slay their masters. Those who were spared were declared less than people and condemned to live in filth forever. The Age of Kings ended, and the Age of Law began.”
The Guru nodded slowly. “I am surprised. Your Law has long forbidden speaking about the origins of your casteless. I’m surprised you know how they came to be.”
“My rebellion’s priest loves to tell stories.”
“Then he was taught better than I expected. You encouraged me to speak, curious to see if, in my bias, I would leave out uncomfortable truths about our forebearers. This time you were testing me, and in my weakness I failed. Very clever. Then let us speak of the uncomfortable truths. The kings may have been descended from gods, but they had the appetites of men. Great was their hubris. It was surely worse than your priest knows. Imagine, being the only thing standing between your people and certain oblivion. Wouldn’t that fill you with pride?”
“I have. It did not.”
The Guru cocked his head at that. “Then you are an odd one, Ashok Vadal.”
“And I think you are probably as deluded as my priest Keta. How are casteless supposed to defeat an army of demons?”
“Are you not yourself born of that line? Have you not beaten demons?”
Ashok scoffed, because he was hardly the average casteless. “What is this power of the gods they are supposedly able to claim?”
“That knowledge has been lost. It is said that it will be revealed again when the time is right.”
“How convenient for you.” Ashok grew weary of these religious types and their vague pronouncements. “I’ve seen demons tear through entire paltans of well-trained warriors, like a fox among chickens. Yet you would feed non-people into their hungry jaws in the hopes your god will answer their cries. Enough. You said there was something about the third way of magic. Where is it?”
“Over here.”
Ashok followed the gesture to the bottom portion of the plaque, and tried to decipher the message to himself, but to no avail. “Read it to me.”
“‘In the final days before the demons come again, a messenger will be sent from Upagraha to choose a mortal conduit to be their Voice. Whoever shall receive this gift shall be blessed above all others, for the Voice will have direct access to whatever knowledge the gods see fit to grant them. Neither black steel nor demon is as mighty as the gods’ will. The Voice will perform miraculous works in their name.’”
“How does one get rid of this Voice?”
“What?” Dondrub may have been a wise man, but he clearly had never thought of anyone asking that. “It’s mightier than black steel…why would…I don’t…”
“So it doesn’t say.” Ashok was disappointed, but unsurprised. If there was an easy way to escape that burden, Thera would have found it by now. She was a determined one. “You are almost at the end. Finish it.”
Dondrub was still trying to grasp the idea of willingly giving up the power of the gods, but he just shook his head and went back to the message, disturbed enough he was simply reading now rather than spinning a familiar tale. “‘The gods will choose priests to strengthen the Voice’s people, and a mighty warrior—the spirit of Ramrowan upon him—to protect the Voice’s life, a great king to rule over all the land.’”
Ashok snorted in derision.
“What?”
“This silly passage is why you keep testing me to see if I would be a good ruler?”
“It is. Why does this amuse you? These words were carved by priests who personally served Ramrowan!” Now it was the Guru’s turn to take offense. “This is sacred. Don’t mock these words.”
“I do not mock them. I mock your comprehension of them. I might actually be the Forgotten’s warrior. I’ve seen enough that I do not doubt the reality of the Voice, nor the fact that it is my duty to protect her.”
“Her? The Voice is a woman?”
Ashok held up one hand to silence him. “However, your mistake is taking this to mean the protector and the king are the same man. I know the one who would be king. He’s the reason I ended up in the ocean. His name is Devedas. Perhaps you should check if he is Ramrowan? Though don’t be surprised when he runs you through with his sword for talking about illegal religion.”
“That can’t be…” The Guru turned back to the words that he had surely read hundreds of times before. “Impossible. There have been other wise men who have interpreted it that way, but that can’t be right…And a woman? Are you sure the Voice is female?”
Of that fact, Ashok was extremely certain. “Yes. Her life matters to me more than the rest of you combined.”
“Ah…”
“That’s all?”
“Is this not enough?”
“No.” Ashok pointed at the last section of text. “I may not know these letters, but I can count the words. Finish it.”
Dondrub looked at Ashok, then the final symbols, then Ashok again. “Well, that is of no importance.”
“I spent twenty years hunting criminals. I can tell when someone is hiding something from me. Continue.”
The Guru tried to act as if he had not been caught. “It’ll be sundown soon. I’m old and it’s a climb. Perhaps we should—”
“Read it and I will know if you lie.”
“Very well…” The Guru sighed. “It says despite the efforts of protector or priests, it is foretold the Voice must be sacrificed, as there is no other way to stop the demons forever.”
Ashok’s hands reflexively clenched into fists. Even if the threat against his charge was millennia old, it still remained a threat. “You are wrong.”
“Not this time! That previous section has some archaic wording, but the last line is a straightforward declaration. There is nothing to misinterpret.”
“Then your gods are wrong.”
“Do not blaspheme in this holy—”
“We are done. I am leaving now. Take me to your smugglers.”
“It’s a long walk!” Dondrub protested. “The paths are treacherous in the dark. It will be freezing. We’ll fall down a cliff.”
Ashok grabbed a handful of robes and hauled the Guru toward him, lifting him to his toes so that they were face-to-face. Even recovering from starvation, Ashok was mighty in comparison to the frail elder. “I do not care if you show me the way, send a guide, or draw me a map, but I am going home now.”
Chapter 12
The Guru rode upon a cart pulled by a yak, led by a monk. Ashok walked. Five of the monks had accompanied them, each of whom was carrying a lantern on the end of a pole to keep their group from making a wrong turn in the dark. The path was narrow, with rock walls on one side and a steep drop on the other.
The night was very cold, so the Guru was wrapped in a pile of blankets. The rest of them made do with their too-thin robes. Ashok could survive nearly anything, but this chill was enough to make him pity the monks.
“It is said discomfort leads to enlightenment, Ashok Vadal. Do you believe this?”
Ashok just gave the Guru a noncommittal grunt. He was tired of foolish questions.
“I do not know if I agree, but it is said that deprivation is good for the soul. These monks forgo comforts in an attempt to master themselves. That is why you should be happy for them. They needed to take the cart to town to get supplies anyway. This way they can make the journey in the bitter cold and pitch black, in order to bring themselves closer to understanding the nature of the universe.”
“Why don’t you get up and walk, then?”
“I’m not seeking enlightenment. That’s their path. My purpose is to seek out the avatar of Ramrowan. And since we will be parting ways soon, I was hoping you would indulge an old man’s curiosity a bit longer.”
Ashok’s patience had worn thin. “If you ask me anything else about philosophy, I’ll throw you off this cliff.”
“I will stick to practical matters, then. You said this man who would be king…Devedas? That he is the reason you wound up in the sea. Tell me about him.”
“I would rather not.”
“If the vast but barbaric nation to our north is to have a new governor, it behooves the people of Xhonura to know about his nature. Consider this answer a repayment for the kind generosity of these monks. Surely a place to lay your head, several days of nutritious gruel, and some moth-eaten robes to wear are worth some conversation in return.”
What could Ashok say to this stranger about his once brother? “Devedas is the Lord Protector, but a secret criminal, plotting to overthrow the judges. We were close, and he was the best man I’ve ever known. When last we met, we dueled to the death. It was the hardest fight of my life, but I prevailed.”
“You killed him, then?”
“No. I was about to, but I was stopped.”
“How?”
Ashok paused, because repaying hospitality only went so far, but part of him wanted to talk about what had happened, because he didn’t really understand it himself.
“I was poised to crush his head, but Angruvadal told me to spare his life, because Devedas was still necessary.”
“How could this be? You told me Angruvadal shattered long before you went into the ocean.”
“It did.” Ashok placed one hand on his chest to feel the ragged scar tissue there. “When it was destroyed, a molten shard of it was launched into my heart. It eventually cooled, yet I can still feel it there. I believe some measure of Angruvadal’s magic remains, as it sometimes warns me of danger and possibilities in battle, like it did when it was whole.”
When the Guru didn’t respond, Ashok looked back over his shoulder. By the light of the lantern hanging over the cart, he could see that Dondrub was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“Impossible! There’s black steel…inside your body? Black steel destroys mortal flesh. It is toxic. How are you still alive?”
“Angruvadal was my oldest friend. It did not wish to kill me.” Ashok returned his attention to the path. Even his reflexes could not stave off gravity, should he step blindly off a cliff.
“No man could withstand having the element of the gods embedded beneath his skin. The magic found in demon flesh is weaker, which is why it can bond with a human, yet even then it will eventually cause the host to turn into a horrific hybrid creature.”
“I have fought those,” Ashok stated. “They are foul things, more dangerous than either of the beings they’re made from.”
“Demon is nothing compared to the magic of the ancients. Wizards say a fragment of black steel the size of my fingernail contains more magical energy than the whole body of a sea demon. Black steel is pure magic, designed by the gods themselves. No man could withstand such perfection.”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“I’m not saying you’re lying. I’m just struggling to understand.” A moment later, the Guru asked, “Then this ghost of Angruvadal commanded you to stay your hand, and you did?”
“No. I still tried to kill Devedas, only when I did not listen, Angruvadal stopped my heart.”
“Like a heart attack?”
“I would assume.” Ashok had not enjoyed being chastised by his former sword, but its purposes were inscrutable. “I was rendered helpless. Devedas survived, his allies arrived, and I ended up unconscious in the river.” He believed that had also been Angruvadal’s doing, to keep him from being pierced by a volley of Garo arrows. It might also have been how he had made it across the icy sea, placed into a state similar to the southern frogs or lizards that survived each winter encased in blocks of ice, only to return to life in the spring.
Despite his obstinance, apparently Angruvadal still had need of him.
The Guru whistled. “And you say Angruvadal is your friend. I would hate to see what it does to its enemies!”
Over a thousand times, Ashok had seen what Angruvadal did to its foes, severing limbs and exploding bones. By its mysterious and unforgiving standards, it had treated Ashok with great compassion in comparison. “It is unpleasant.”
“If what you say is true, Ashok Vadal, then you would be a unique specimen among mankind. No one has attempted to claim such power for themselves and lived to tell the tale, since the days of Ramrowan himself at least, and he was molded by the gods to be their perfect soldier. What would it even mean to be a hybrid of flesh and black steel? How could such a thing exist without the guidance of divine architects? The implications of this are…troubling.”
That part Ashok found plausible, because it sounded like what Thera described having faced in the graveyard of demons, and she was one of the few people in the world whose word he trusted.
“The gods had created black steel as the ultimate manifestation of their powers, a substance able to alter the world according to their whims. It was created in a forge that required heat great as the sun.” Dondrub traced his fingers over the symbols reverently. “The evil tried to copy this miracle and gave life to demons instead. The demons hated the gods, for the gods rejected them. The demons made war on the gods, and all of mankind watched as the two sides filled the heavens above us with fire and thunder for many days. It was war the likes of which had never been seen before or since. Except as this war in the heavens raged, the gods could not protect their children below…”
“The rain of demons,” Ashok said.
“Yes. Wherever the demons fell, they laid to waste. Our land of prosperity was torn asunder. Knowledge was lost. Rivers ran red with blood as our old world was destroyed. One by one the other castles were torn from the sky, including the forge of the gods, until only Upagraha remained. Many gods perished, yet ultimately the last of them prevailed. Once the evil was defeated, only then could they turn their eyes back to their creation and were horrified to find that our people were being massacred by the demons.”
This part Keta had talked about many times. “So the gods sent one warrior riding down from the sky in a vessel made of black steel, to give that magic to the survivors, so we could drive the demons into the sea.”
“It delights me that some small measure of truth has not been ruined by your blighted Law! Except you are only part right. Ramrowan was not ordered here. He begged the injured gods to let him go to us. For Ramrowan was more than just a mortal warrior. He had been bred to be a soldier of the gods. Improved in every way, with the very blood of the gods running through his veins.” Dondrub’s hand paused at one of the carvings. He tapped it twice. “He was a fusion of flesh and black steel magic, the first Protector.”
Ashok scowled, because that symbol was familiar. It was one of the repetitive designs, usually inlaid in silver, traditionally marked upon Protector armor. “I know that one.”
“I thought you might. Except in those days your kind were created to be Protectors of humanity, not Protectors of Law. That perversion came later. Using a special device that had been given to him by the gods, Ramrowan was able to make more Protectors like unto him, but they were pale imitations, as magic alone could not make them equal to his blood.”
That device had to be the Heart of the Mountain. “What do you know of this process?”
“Very little.”
“You should keep it that way.”
Dondrub didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he continued his tale. “These Protectors were mighty, but they were mere shadows of Ramrowan’s power, for how can any man, even one augmented by black steel, approach the power of someone who is part god? It is said he could call down fire and lightning from the sky. Nothing could kill him, neither blade nor bullet, burning heat or icy cold. Yet even he needed help to defeat the demons, so from his ship Ramrowan created the weapons that would come to be known as ancestor blades and gave one to each surviving tribe in Lok. Once they were united together, they pushed the demons into the sea.”
“The ocean is hell. Let the demons have it. Man will retain the land. Trespassers will be dealt with. Thus it has been. Thus it ever shall be.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dondrub asked. “I should not be surprised. You believe whatever your Law tells you, only your Law is deluded and has forgotten the old ways.”
“You are fortunate I no longer take personal offense for slights against the Law, old man.”
“The Law lies. There is no truce between man and demonkind. They will return. Not one or two at a time as they have in recent centuries, but an army of demons, to finish what they started.”
“I’ve fought more demons than anyone.” It wasn’t bragging, rather a statement of fact. “I do not doubt their capacity for hate. Five at once might as well be an army, but there is no sign of an invasion.”
“Do you have eyes that can see beneath the sea, Ashok Vadal? The gods know all that is and what may be. Mighty Ramrowan’s final words declared that the demons would return in time, and we must be ready to stop them, or all would perish.”
“When?”
“Only the gods know. Which is why we must remain vigilant. More importantly, Ramrowan warned that only someone with his sainted blood would be able to unlock the full might of the gods to repel the invaders when the time came. Without this chosen bloodline, we would be doomed. This was so vital that the sons of Ramrowan made sure that their bloodline could never be eradicated.”
Keta had preached about this next part many times, so Ashok was curious to hear the old man’s version. “What became of these sons?”
“They ruled as kings. They took many wives, to perpetuate their line, as did the generations after them, until their family was so great in number their bloodline could never die out.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Will you not speak of how these kings ruled as tyrants over the castes they had created to serve them, taking whatever they wanted—women, treasure, and land? Until the people they were supposed to save grew to hate them more than the demons they had started to forget. The castes decided this legend was a lie, an excuse for their kings to do evil, and rose up to slay their masters. Those who were spared were declared less than people and condemned to live in filth forever. The Age of Kings ended, and the Age of Law began.”
The Guru nodded slowly. “I am surprised. Your Law has long forbidden speaking about the origins of your casteless. I’m surprised you know how they came to be.”
“My rebellion’s priest loves to tell stories.”
“Then he was taught better than I expected. You encouraged me to speak, curious to see if, in my bias, I would leave out uncomfortable truths about our forebearers. This time you were testing me, and in my weakness I failed. Very clever. Then let us speak of the uncomfortable truths. The kings may have been descended from gods, but they had the appetites of men. Great was their hubris. It was surely worse than your priest knows. Imagine, being the only thing standing between your people and certain oblivion. Wouldn’t that fill you with pride?”
“I have. It did not.”
The Guru cocked his head at that. “Then you are an odd one, Ashok Vadal.”
“And I think you are probably as deluded as my priest Keta. How are casteless supposed to defeat an army of demons?”
“Are you not yourself born of that line? Have you not beaten demons?”
Ashok scoffed, because he was hardly the average casteless. “What is this power of the gods they are supposedly able to claim?”
“That knowledge has been lost. It is said that it will be revealed again when the time is right.”
“How convenient for you.” Ashok grew weary of these religious types and their vague pronouncements. “I’ve seen demons tear through entire paltans of well-trained warriors, like a fox among chickens. Yet you would feed non-people into their hungry jaws in the hopes your god will answer their cries. Enough. You said there was something about the third way of magic. Where is it?”
“Over here.”
Ashok followed the gesture to the bottom portion of the plaque, and tried to decipher the message to himself, but to no avail. “Read it to me.”
“‘In the final days before the demons come again, a messenger will be sent from Upagraha to choose a mortal conduit to be their Voice. Whoever shall receive this gift shall be blessed above all others, for the Voice will have direct access to whatever knowledge the gods see fit to grant them. Neither black steel nor demon is as mighty as the gods’ will. The Voice will perform miraculous works in their name.’”
“How does one get rid of this Voice?”
“What?” Dondrub may have been a wise man, but he clearly had never thought of anyone asking that. “It’s mightier than black steel…why would…I don’t…”
“So it doesn’t say.” Ashok was disappointed, but unsurprised. If there was an easy way to escape that burden, Thera would have found it by now. She was a determined one. “You are almost at the end. Finish it.”
Dondrub was still trying to grasp the idea of willingly giving up the power of the gods, but he just shook his head and went back to the message, disturbed enough he was simply reading now rather than spinning a familiar tale. “‘The gods will choose priests to strengthen the Voice’s people, and a mighty warrior—the spirit of Ramrowan upon him—to protect the Voice’s life, a great king to rule over all the land.’”
Ashok snorted in derision.
“What?”
“This silly passage is why you keep testing me to see if I would be a good ruler?”
“It is. Why does this amuse you? These words were carved by priests who personally served Ramrowan!” Now it was the Guru’s turn to take offense. “This is sacred. Don’t mock these words.”
“I do not mock them. I mock your comprehension of them. I might actually be the Forgotten’s warrior. I’ve seen enough that I do not doubt the reality of the Voice, nor the fact that it is my duty to protect her.”
“Her? The Voice is a woman?”
Ashok held up one hand to silence him. “However, your mistake is taking this to mean the protector and the king are the same man. I know the one who would be king. He’s the reason I ended up in the ocean. His name is Devedas. Perhaps you should check if he is Ramrowan? Though don’t be surprised when he runs you through with his sword for talking about illegal religion.”
“That can’t be…” The Guru turned back to the words that he had surely read hundreds of times before. “Impossible. There have been other wise men who have interpreted it that way, but that can’t be right…And a woman? Are you sure the Voice is female?”
Of that fact, Ashok was extremely certain. “Yes. Her life matters to me more than the rest of you combined.”
“Ah…”
“That’s all?”
“Is this not enough?”
“No.” Ashok pointed at the last section of text. “I may not know these letters, but I can count the words. Finish it.”
Dondrub looked at Ashok, then the final symbols, then Ashok again. “Well, that is of no importance.”
“I spent twenty years hunting criminals. I can tell when someone is hiding something from me. Continue.”
The Guru tried to act as if he had not been caught. “It’ll be sundown soon. I’m old and it’s a climb. Perhaps we should—”
“Read it and I will know if you lie.”
“Very well…” The Guru sighed. “It says despite the efforts of protector or priests, it is foretold the Voice must be sacrificed, as there is no other way to stop the demons forever.”
Ashok’s hands reflexively clenched into fists. Even if the threat against his charge was millennia old, it still remained a threat. “You are wrong.”
“Not this time! That previous section has some archaic wording, but the last line is a straightforward declaration. There is nothing to misinterpret.”
“Then your gods are wrong.”
“Do not blaspheme in this holy—”
“We are done. I am leaving now. Take me to your smugglers.”
“It’s a long walk!” Dondrub protested. “The paths are treacherous in the dark. It will be freezing. We’ll fall down a cliff.”
Ashok grabbed a handful of robes and hauled the Guru toward him, lifting him to his toes so that they were face-to-face. Even recovering from starvation, Ashok was mighty in comparison to the frail elder. “I do not care if you show me the way, send a guide, or draw me a map, but I am going home now.”
Chapter 12
The Guru rode upon a cart pulled by a yak, led by a monk. Ashok walked. Five of the monks had accompanied them, each of whom was carrying a lantern on the end of a pole to keep their group from making a wrong turn in the dark. The path was narrow, with rock walls on one side and a steep drop on the other.
The night was very cold, so the Guru was wrapped in a pile of blankets. The rest of them made do with their too-thin robes. Ashok could survive nearly anything, but this chill was enough to make him pity the monks.
“It is said discomfort leads to enlightenment, Ashok Vadal. Do you believe this?”
Ashok just gave the Guru a noncommittal grunt. He was tired of foolish questions.
“I do not know if I agree, but it is said that deprivation is good for the soul. These monks forgo comforts in an attempt to master themselves. That is why you should be happy for them. They needed to take the cart to town to get supplies anyway. This way they can make the journey in the bitter cold and pitch black, in order to bring themselves closer to understanding the nature of the universe.”
“Why don’t you get up and walk, then?”
“I’m not seeking enlightenment. That’s their path. My purpose is to seek out the avatar of Ramrowan. And since we will be parting ways soon, I was hoping you would indulge an old man’s curiosity a bit longer.”
Ashok’s patience had worn thin. “If you ask me anything else about philosophy, I’ll throw you off this cliff.”
“I will stick to practical matters, then. You said this man who would be king…Devedas? That he is the reason you wound up in the sea. Tell me about him.”
“I would rather not.”
“If the vast but barbaric nation to our north is to have a new governor, it behooves the people of Xhonura to know about his nature. Consider this answer a repayment for the kind generosity of these monks. Surely a place to lay your head, several days of nutritious gruel, and some moth-eaten robes to wear are worth some conversation in return.”
What could Ashok say to this stranger about his once brother? “Devedas is the Lord Protector, but a secret criminal, plotting to overthrow the judges. We were close, and he was the best man I’ve ever known. When last we met, we dueled to the death. It was the hardest fight of my life, but I prevailed.”
“You killed him, then?”
“No. I was about to, but I was stopped.”
“How?”
Ashok paused, because repaying hospitality only went so far, but part of him wanted to talk about what had happened, because he didn’t really understand it himself.
“I was poised to crush his head, but Angruvadal told me to spare his life, because Devedas was still necessary.”
“How could this be? You told me Angruvadal shattered long before you went into the ocean.”
“It did.” Ashok placed one hand on his chest to feel the ragged scar tissue there. “When it was destroyed, a molten shard of it was launched into my heart. It eventually cooled, yet I can still feel it there. I believe some measure of Angruvadal’s magic remains, as it sometimes warns me of danger and possibilities in battle, like it did when it was whole.”
When the Guru didn’t respond, Ashok looked back over his shoulder. By the light of the lantern hanging over the cart, he could see that Dondrub was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“Impossible! There’s black steel…inside your body? Black steel destroys mortal flesh. It is toxic. How are you still alive?”
“Angruvadal was my oldest friend. It did not wish to kill me.” Ashok returned his attention to the path. Even his reflexes could not stave off gravity, should he step blindly off a cliff.
“No man could withstand having the element of the gods embedded beneath his skin. The magic found in demon flesh is weaker, which is why it can bond with a human, yet even then it will eventually cause the host to turn into a horrific hybrid creature.”
“I have fought those,” Ashok stated. “They are foul things, more dangerous than either of the beings they’re made from.”
“Demon is nothing compared to the magic of the ancients. Wizards say a fragment of black steel the size of my fingernail contains more magical energy than the whole body of a sea demon. Black steel is pure magic, designed by the gods themselves. No man could withstand such perfection.”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“I’m not saying you’re lying. I’m just struggling to understand.” A moment later, the Guru asked, “Then this ghost of Angruvadal commanded you to stay your hand, and you did?”
“No. I still tried to kill Devedas, only when I did not listen, Angruvadal stopped my heart.”
“Like a heart attack?”
“I would assume.” Ashok had not enjoyed being chastised by his former sword, but its purposes were inscrutable. “I was rendered helpless. Devedas survived, his allies arrived, and I ended up unconscious in the river.” He believed that had also been Angruvadal’s doing, to keep him from being pierced by a volley of Garo arrows. It might also have been how he had made it across the icy sea, placed into a state similar to the southern frogs or lizards that survived each winter encased in blocks of ice, only to return to life in the spring.
Despite his obstinance, apparently Angruvadal still had need of him.
The Guru whistled. “And you say Angruvadal is your friend. I would hate to see what it does to its enemies!”
Over a thousand times, Ashok had seen what Angruvadal did to its foes, severing limbs and exploding bones. By its mysterious and unforgiving standards, it had treated Ashok with great compassion in comparison. “It is unpleasant.”
“If what you say is true, Ashok Vadal, then you would be a unique specimen among mankind. No one has attempted to claim such power for themselves and lived to tell the tale, since the days of Ramrowan himself at least, and he was molded by the gods to be their perfect soldier. What would it even mean to be a hybrid of flesh and black steel? How could such a thing exist without the guidance of divine architects? The implications of this are…troubling.”
