‘Then why this condescension?’
‘You are human, thus born weak,’ Ba’al said. ‘Yet you do not empower yourself with any kind of skill useful for your survival. If it were not for Adri Sen and the alkhatamish, both of you, brother and sister, would not have made it. I condescend because you burden your protectors.’
Maya glared at him. There was truth in Ba’al’s words somewhere.
‘Do not ask questions that demand insults,’ Ba’al said.
‘Oh, I’m good,’ Maya said, grim.
‘Are you?’ Ba’al asked.
‘I’ve heard worse, Demon Commander. Insult me all you like, but tell me what I want to know.’
‘Then ask, human.’
‘Then I repeat my question, the one you keep avoiding,’ Maya said. ‘What exactly does Adri Sen mean to you?’
Ba’al looked at her keenly, his eyes thinking.
‘There is a link between me and Adri Sen,’ he said. ‘A link that is like an invisible chain, one neither of us can break. And there is a reason I am vague about this—I cannot talk about this bond until both of us have given our permissions. You have mine, and when you resurrect the Tantric, ask him for his. If he wants you to know, you will know then. For now, I will repeat what I had said earlier, with greater clarity—I cannot allow Adri Sen to die.’
‘Very well,’ Maya said. ‘Tell me of the Keeper.’
‘I have met him once,’ Ba’al said. ‘A strange being, one tireless and dedicated entirely to his task. He keeps his secrets well. You were right in assuming that he will know how to restore Adri Sen to his body. There is no one else capable of this feat you seek.’
‘But it is possible, right?’ Gray asked.
‘To my knowledge, no. A soul separated from a body is a soul lost; it cannot simply be reconnected. Nor can the same body be built, with or without magic. Ebb blades work in their dark ways. They rip the soul from the body, as one would gut a fish.’ Ba’al paused and looked at Gray’s horror-struck face. ‘But I am not the Keeper,’ he continued. ‘And I do not have access to his secrets. For all I know, and for all I hope, I might be wrong.’
‘Then there is hope,’ Maya spoke.
‘Hope is a tricky thing, human. It gives you strength, yet it blinds you. Nevertheless, the greatest human feats have travelled in the vessel of hope, and I would not take it away from you. Confront the Keeper. He will change subjects, he will digress, and he will try to escape responsibility, which is why I use the word confront. A warning though—if he deems Adri Sen’s life to be over, he will take the soul from you and add it to his library. And if that were to happen, then Adri Sen is forever lost to us. You are no match for the Keeper’s power. It does not work in the same ways as that of Demons and Angels. Do not threaten him or ignite his wrath. Reason with him, trick him if you have to.’
‘Where is the Soul Library?’ Fayne asked quietly.
‘I travelled to the Library once,’ Ba’al said, ‘when I was young. I made my mistakes then, and I almost perished on the way. Since then, I have consulted cartographers and explorers for an easier way there, but there is none. And with that, and age, I have come to realise that the path to the Soul Library is made to be difficult.’
‘Show me,’ Maya said, ‘on the map.’
‘From my tower, you have to go back west,’ Ba’al said, running his finger over the map. ‘Skirt over the top of the Bishakto Jongol, then through the Whispering Pashan. Travel until you reach the Frayed Gate and the Old Guard. Past them, you shall reach the Shadowlands. You must travel through the Shadowlands for a month and a half, keeping east throughout, until you reach the Winter Gate and the White Watchman who guards it. Frozen Bombay lies beyond. Talk to the Sea Lords or travel illegally, but find a boat. There is an island there, off the west coast, called Zaleb Hel. The locals, of course, fear it, and think it cursed.’ Ba’al paused. ‘It is. Zaleb Hel is home to the abandoned city of Zaleb Khadd. In the depths of this city you will find the Forgotten Door. The staircase beyond will lead you to the Keeper.’
Silence. Then Gray whistled, slowly. ‘A long freaking journey,’ he said.
‘Many, many miles to go before you sleep, yes,’ Ba’al said.
‘There is one place we must go to, on our way to the Keeper,’ Maya said ‘Nemen Sui.’
‘And why,’ Ba’al asked, ‘must you go to Nemen Sui?’
‘The Gunsmith is there. Victor Sen gave him to the Flesh Eaters.’
‘And you want to rescue him?’
Maya nodded. ‘Victor Sen cannot get away with everything. The Gunsmith will be an invaluable ally.’
‘Your journey is difficult enough already, human. The Gatekeepers at each of the Gates will not let you pass so easily; all of them have their own rules. The road is fraught with danger. Apart from the spies of the Horseman and the assassins Victor Sen is sure to have hired, the Shadowlands are a dark, dreary place where, as it is said, you cannot trust your own shadow. Let Nemen Sui be.’
‘No,’ Maya said. ‘He will be rescued, and I’m willing to try.’
‘Why,’ Ba’al asked, ‘in all your imagination, human, do you think the Flesh Eaters of Nemen Sui have been named the Flesh Eaters of Nemen Sui? There will not be much left of the Gunsmith for you to rescue. I am patient with you, but do not mistake my patience for weakness.’
‘I’m the one being patient with you, Ba’al,’ Maya said. Gray looked up in surprise at his sister, and he was not the only one—the Demon beside Ba’al looked at Maya with curious eyes; Fayne did not move. ‘I’ve just about had it with you and your cold shoulder. Do not judge my race for what I am, Demon,’ Maya continued, indifferent. ‘Judge my race, if at all, for what I want to become.’
Perfect silence. Maya had not only insulted their host, she had also called him by his name, something Gray was sure Ba’al did not allow freely. Gray grew uncomfortable, he dared not look at Ba’al. Beside him, he could feel Fayne extremely tense, as tense as Gray had seen him be. The assassin was waiting for movement, chalking out his attack plan. Gray had his—at the slightest reaction, he would grab Maya and topple backwards, onto the floor, away from any spell Ba’al might fire.
‘Maya Ghosh,’ Ba’al spoke suddenly.
Gray grabbed Maya with a shout and tumbled out of sight.
‘What the hell!’ Maya exclaimed, freeing herself.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ Gray hissed. ‘I thought he was going to, you know . . .’ They propped up their chairs and sat again, red-faced. Fayne hadn’t moved, and Ba’al was watching them with something akin to the merest trace of amusement. The Demon next to Ba’al was smiling.
‘Err, my apologies,’ Gray said.
‘I already promised that nothing touches you here, tonight,’ Ba’al said. ‘I keep my promises. You should not have worried.’
Gray scratched his head.
‘You surprise me, Maya Ghosh,’ Ba’al continued. ‘Not with your brazen arrogance—that is easily treatable—but with your similarity to Adri Sen.’
Maya said nothing in response, continuing only to look at Ba’al.
‘I have met many humans, and they are all different. They have different tastes, they want different things, they dream differently. Magic, on the other hand, is similar, and yet different. It has its boundaries and formulae, and yet it does not. There are things we speculate upon despite the chaos that is Magic’s true form . . .
‘Why do you remind me of Adri Sen? Is it the drop of blood in the Dreamer’s Brew? Is it the vibes from the soul gem you now carry? Or is it destiny? Has the Web, in all its eternal wisdom, simply chosen you to take over the role Adri Sen was meant to perform? And will he never come back? Or is it Adri Sen who watches over us all?’
Maya reeled with the impact of the words. How did Ba’al know the things he did? Then the Demon next to Ba’al spoke, for the first time. Her voice was surprisingly soft, yet strong. It was something else too, Maya realised. It was respectful.
‘The Dead watch over us
,’ she said, simply.
Maya looked at her. ‘Adri Sen is not dead. Not yet.’
Ba’al spoke. ‘There is a reason for everything, Maya Ghosh. MYTH denied you your ancestry because of a reason. You are meant to be a Sorcerer.’
Maya, barely having recovered from the last blow, and somehow forcing herself to refocus on the conversation, was disarmed once more.
‘How. How do you know that?’ she asked.
‘You are my guest. I know who you are and where you come from.’
‘No, not the MYTH bit. How do you know I am meant to be a Sorcerer?’
‘The Magic, Maya Ghosh,’ Ba’al replied. ‘The Magic. I see it in the air reacting to your presence, bending, curving, assimilating, and waiting for your command. You can interact with chaos directly, and I felt it the moment you walked in through my gates.’
‘Throughout my life,’ Maya spoke slowly, ‘I have never felt anything. I have never sensed any kind of magical vibe in the air like Adri, or ever felt that something was about to happen before it did.’
‘And yet I see Magic react to you. Strange are the ways of this force and the way it operates, the people it chooses. With time, with training, you shall learn to see, to feel. And with time, you shall understand your role,’ Ba’al paused. ‘The robes you wear are not for everyone. Only Demon Mages can wear the uniform you now wear. One requires an understanding, a call to honour the garment.’
‘And yet you sent these for me? When you say I am yet to understand?’
‘Oh, there is already an understanding within you. But you have to realise that understanding, come to terms with it.’
‘I’m confused.’
‘If I were to take an example—the clothing of a Demon Mage is meant to consume anyone who makes the mistake of wearing it. Anyone, but a Mage.’
Maya looked at herself, at the robes she wore, the robes which felt comfortable.
‘And you do not burn in hellfire, Maya Ghosh. Begin,’ Ba’al said, ‘to understand.’
There was a long silence. Ba’al spoke again. ‘To reach Nemen Sui, you have to turn north before the Winter Gate and travel deeper into the Shadowlands until you cross the Black River. There, you will find the Black City. Find the Gunsmith if you can. Retrace your steps to the Winter Gate and continue as instructed.’
‘Thank you,’ Maya said, not knowing what else to say.
‘My reasons coincide with yours. Do not thank me yet. Your journey has not started.’
‘Come with us,’ Maya said suddenly. ‘Make the journey again, to the Soul Library. Help Adri. You know you want to.’
‘If you’re there with us, we don’t really have to worry about any enemy, do we?’ Gray exclaimed, breaking into a sudden, excited grin.
Ba’al looked at them. ‘An option I have considered a hundred times,’ he said. ‘There is nothing I would like better, Maya Ghosh. But if I leave Old Kolkata for even a single day, the Free Demons will fall. I do not have a capable General as of yet, someone who can take care of things while I am gone. This journey will take months, and MYTH brings new tricks to the Territory Wars every day. For the sake of the Old City, I must stay.’
‘You do realise that if the Apocalypse does come, there will be no Old City,’ Maya said.
‘I do,’ Ba’al said. ‘But we all have our roles, and mine is to stay here, protecting the city until Adri Sen comes back and the Game is played. But I do not leave you alone either. I have to know if you live. I have to know if you die.’
‘How?’ Maya asked.
Ba’al gestured to the Demon beside him. She looked up at them and Maya noticed that her irises were green, like her robes.
‘This is Zabrielle,’ Ba’al said. ‘She is one of my finest Mages, and a true master of the Ghost Sword. She has agreed to accompany the three of you on your journey to restore Adri Sen, and, as it would seem, your little detour to find the Gunsmith’s remains.’
Zabrielle smiled at them. Gray returned the smile, while Maya forced one.
‘I have stocked supplies in bags for the three of you,’ Ba’al said. ‘For the Sadhu’s Shotgun, human, I have arranged sixty holy rounds, ready in your bag. There is food, dry food, which will not spoil for months. And for the darkness, there are lanterns, as there will be no Tantric with you to summon spirits of the light.’
‘Thank you,’ Gray said.
‘You will leave at first light. That will be all.’
‘What about our little talk?’ Fayne asked.
‘Meet me in the courtyard in an hour,’ Ba’al replied.
Everyone stood up, ready to leave, except Ba’al and Maya. ‘Carry on,’ Maya told her brother. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘There is a question that has been bothering you,’ Ba’al said when the room was empty. ‘Ask, and I will see if I can answer.’
‘Does Adri want to come back?’ Maya asked slowly.
Ba’al almost smiled. ‘Adri Sen has never known peace. Never. Since the day he was born to the night his body was scattered as ash, every waking moment for him has been a gamble, a run for survival. Something vile. Creatures of all kinds have tried to kill him, and he has been looking over his shoulder his entire life. A cursed life, one of restlessness and agony, of questions, of tragedy. But, earlier today, when I saw him in the soul gem, I saw him at peace for the first time.’
‘How do you know? How do you know it is not utter agony? You haven’t been in a soul gem,’ Maya shot back.
‘I know,’ Ba’al said. ‘Because I know Adri Sen, perhaps, and sadly enough, better than his parents. But either way, it is not up to him. He must come back because the Apocalypse cannot be allowed to come.’
‘But it is not just about the Apocalypse and the Game, is it? Maya asked. ‘You adore him.’
‘Yes I do,’ Ba’al said shortly.
‘You were the first Demon he summoned. Your link is enduring.’
‘He summoned me because he wanted to prove a point to himself, in his defiance of Victor Sen, a defiance which grew stronger over the years. He was a mere boy when he first called me, a feat unimaginable for someone his age. He kept summoning me over the years, and yes, we did develop an understanding. But that is not his greatest act. Adri Sen’s greatest act is not something you will find written in his diaries.’
‘Then what? What linked the two of you?’
Maya’s question hung in the air. A question heavy, one with an air of undeniable finality. She expected someone to interrupt them, or Ba’al to leave without answering, some excuse, some coincidence. Anything except the answer. But Ba’al replied.
‘Adri Sen set me free. He set me free from the bonds of summoning, set me free to form the Free Demons. That is the reason he was banished from MYTH.’
Ba’al looked pensive. ‘Now you know,’ he said. ‘It is not easy to be Adri Sen. Or to remember him.’ He paused. ‘I bid you a good night.’ Ba’al got up and strode off.
Sorrow claimed Maya. It was sad, and nothing short of sad, the events that had transpired. She looked down at the soul gem in her hand, the soul gem she made sure never left her side, the soul gem with Adri within.
In the room below, Gray felt his sister’s sorrow, a great sorrow untouchable by word or expression, a sorrow connecting them through bricks and mortar. While Fayne sat on the floor in a meditative posture, he sat silently on his bed, gazing out of the window.
Gray’s sorrow was without cause, and he struggled to find a reason for it. Perhaps the key lay in Adri’s burning, perhaps it was the responsibility now shifting from the Tantric onto their shoulders, brother and sister, both truly without the skill to defend themselves, both now part of a war they must see through. He sifted through what bothered him. There was something just beyond his reach, something he wanted to trap with a mental pincer and examine in the light.
His sister was special. That was it. It was what Ba’al had said about Maya and her connection with magic, about the Demon Mage robes not harming her. He looked down at his
own simple robes. Nothing special there. But one as old as him should not feel jealousy, Gray mused, troubled, but then he knew it wasn’t just jealousy. They had always been normal, Maya and Gray, and while he did not feel the need to train as such in any art of self-defence, he always knew he had Maya to make him feel normal, someone else who, too, depended on protection.
She had been unconscious through countless dangers, he thought, anger returning. It was he who had been protecting her, he who had cared so much for her return, he who had to take all the difficult decisions alone and face Abriti. Not her. Not her. And yet, she was the one with the destiny, with Sorcery in her blood. It did not ring fair to Gray. Not at all. He wanted to take it out on Maya, but he knew there was no way, no way he could justify it, no way he could ever come clean if she demanded an explanation for his sullen or nasty behaviour. He would still take it out on her, he decided. Let her walk in through that door. Gray would accuse her of something. Anything.
‘Don’t do it, myrkho,’ Fayne spoke all of a sudden.
Gray looked at the assassin. Telepathy had never been one of Fayne’s touted abilities.
‘Do what?’ he asked.
‘Burn yourself in your thoughts of uselessness. It does not help your spirit.’
‘How do you know that?’ Gray asked, surprised.
‘Your emotions can be read well,’ Fayne replied, not breaking posture. ‘If Maya has destiny on her side, you should support her. We cannot afford constant blame games, myrkho, we are all weak in spirit.’
‘Even you?’ Gray asked.
‘No. We is a term used collectively, but with exception.’
Gray sighed. Fayne was right. Instead of self-deprecation, he should try to help. Perhaps even get trained in the ways of war. But who—
‘Fayne—’ Gray began.
‘No,’ Fayne replied.
‘Why not?’
‘It is too late. You are too old to get trained in the way of the alkhatamish. My training at Ahzad started when I was a boy, merciless as it was.’
‘I’m quick to learn, Fayne. And we’ll be travelling together. What better person than you?’
Horsemen of Old Page 4
